#being a fly on the wall of a writer's room is to hear nothing but constant cackling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellecdc · 2 months ago

Note

okay but what about when a puck goes flying wild and hits medic!reader square in the face (talking concussion, wound, blood, bruise, whatever u feel like) and her whole team goes crazy both in terms of protectiveness of her but also confusion bc what do we do without our favourite medic??? (can be in the remus hockey player or pt universe, anything u feel like luv)

is there a bug in my wall? how do you know this is EXACTLY what I've been daydreaming about????? I demand answers! (thank youuuuu for the request)

hockey player!Remus Lupin x team medic!reader who's a real member of the team [2k words]

part 1 | part two | part 3

CW: injury, angry Swedes, writers distaste for her home team (of which she cheers for), Scandinavian's beefing with each other but it's in good fun

Remus was certain the game clock was moving in slow motion, or that whoever was in charge of it forgot to hit play a few times when the play would continue. He needed this game to be over.

He needed to get you you.

The entire game had been frustratingly slow; both teams scored one goal in the first period, and then nothing happened in the entire second period. A fight broke out at the beginning of the third, but then it seemed like they were back to nothing happening.

That is, until the worst thing happened.

The Leafs were lining up for a goal in the Lion’s zone with a one man advantage due to Fenwick’s tripping penalty. Grönvall, Dearborn, Nadeau, and Potter were on the ice for the penalty kill, blocking shots for Krum with various parts of their bodies that Remus was sure was going to result in wicked bruises.

Matthews had the puck behind the net, sending it up the boards towards Nylander, Nylander passed it to Rielly who quickly tipped it to Marner, Marner passed it back to Matthews who was now in front of the net, back to Marner who went to pass it to Ekman-Larson, but Nylander reached forward with his stick at the last minute; the puck had been travelling too fast and simply tipped off of Nylander’s stick, ricocheting towards the Lion’s bench.

The Lions - who had been watching the puck - ducked.

You - who had been watching Nadeau who was now limping after blocking a particularly nasty shot with his knee - didn’t see it coming.

The puck hit you right in the face.

Your head whipped to the side in surprise before you all but fell from where you were standing on the bench.

The play stopped, but that was on account of the puck being out of play and not on account that a member of the team - the most important member of the team, if you asked Remus - was down.

“I’m fine.” You hissed at everybody - the players on the bench, the players on the ice, the coaching staff - who had called your name. But you had your face in your hands, were kneeling on the wet rubber floor, and your voice came out pinched.

“Y/N.” Remus barked, suddenly feeling breathless even though he’d not been on the ice, unable to push through the other players on the bench to get to you.

Lars - the team's PT - placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and bent down beside you, and Remus was struck with how much this looked like how you cared for the players when you met them on the ice. Head low, soft murmurs so that no one else could hear, and a comforting hand.

“Stay out here for the team, in case they need you.” Your response came muffled from behind your hands, and you quickly stood and took off down the tunnel towards the locker room alone.

Remus only registered the sound of whistles being blown then, James having clearly chirped at one of the Toronto players, earning him a shove from Rielly before Grönvall, Nylander, Dearborn, and Marner paired off, too.

“That should be a fucking delay of game!” James barked at the ref who was shoving him towards the Lion’s bench (and away from Rielly’s jugular).

“I heard ya the first time, Potter.” The referee grumbled as James got off the ice.

“Fan har du glömt hur fan man siktar på det jävla nätet, Nylander?” (translation: did you fucking forget how to aim for the damn net) Remus spat as he watched number 88 skate towards the Toronto bench.

“Kukhuvud.” (translation: dickhead) Nylander muttered back as he stepped off the ice.

“That’s enough, number 10.” The ref barked warningly at Remus.

Remus did not think that was enough, however, and looked over at the Toronto bench only to find the team medic giving some instruction to their PT before disappearing down their own tunnel, and Remus felt his heart unclench slightly.

He sincerely hoped he was going to check on you.

Remus wondered if he should do the same.

“Lupin, Black, Trenholm; you’re on.” Coach barked, and Remus tried to breath around his panic as he pushed himself over the boards and lined up for the face off.

“Loops, the more times the whistle needs to be blown, the longer it’s going to take to get back to the locker room.” James whispered to Remus as they repositioned for another face off.

“Unless you’re trying to get kicked out of the game for a misconduct.” Sirius added breezily from his other side. “Then you’re on the right track.”

“Do not get any penalties or injuries.” James continued severely. “She cannot help you right now and you’ll be of no help to her.”

Remus let out a groan and playfully shoved his two line mates away from him. “Okay, Cap. Don’t have to be so damn reasonable all the time.”

“Isn’t he the worst?” Sirius chuckled, though Remus knew he was likely glad James talked Remus down.

And it was only once Remus stopped going for blood and focused more on ending the fucking game - which required one more goal so as not to go into overtime - did the clock finally start running down.

Fenwick ended up tipping in a shot from Sirius with only 30 seconds left of the third, and since Remus was getting off and knew he wouldn’t be needed in the last 29 seconds of the game, he stepped off the ice and completely bypassed the bench as he made for the locker room.

“Y/N?” Remus called as he made it to the empty locker room. “Doc?”

He checked the exam room which was empty before checking the dark room next.

After knocking gently and without waiting for a response, Remus pushed the door open to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, eyes closed and face pointed to the ceiling as you held an ice pack to your cheek.

“Baby.”

“Is the game over?” You asked then, turning to look at him and basically ripping his heart right out of his chest when he noticed the drying tear tracks on your face.

Before Remus could respond, the sound of the arena horn blared signalling the end of the game.

“Yes, the game is over.”

“Did we win?”

Remus forced a laugh out as he took off all the equipment he could manage; his gloves, helmet, his jersey, followed by his elbow pads and finally his shoulder pads, leaving him in only his underarmour on his top half. “Of course we won, lovie. Think we were gonna let them get away with that?”

You tried to smile at him, but the deep sigh that left your lungs told him it was just for show.

“My poor girl.” He cooed as he reached for the ice you were holding to your face. “What happened, hm? Let me see.”

You released your hold on the ice pack that Remus gently pulled away to expose your cheek; already mottled and blooming with deep, bruising colours. It had even broken the skin, though it seemed that it was shallow enough to only require a piece of medical tape slapped over it.

“Den jävlan.” (translation: that fucker) Remus muttered under his breath. “I can’t believe he did this to you.”

Your brows furrowed at Remus’ words but you didn’t get a chance to respond when the sounds from the locker room permeated the dark room.

“Loops, is doc-” ‘in here?’ was left unsaid when Remus turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway with Isak and Benjy behind him, exposing your form huddled on the ground.

“Doc.” Benjy whined, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Isak and a reproachful shushing from Sirius.

“Concussion protocol, Fenny.” Sirius hissed at him, earning him a quiet laugh from you which Remus was eternally grateful for.

“Does anyone need me?” You asked quietly, causing all four boys to shout (albeit quietly) various protests.

“I think these fuckers can manage to tape up their own jammed fingers for one game, yeah?” Benjy offered.

“Lars can help, too.” Isak agreed.

“There ya have it doc, your job has been made obsolete!” Sirius cheered. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, alright. Get out of here.” Remus grumbled with no real ire, letting out a breath of relief when the sounds from the locker room faded away when the door was shut behind them.

“Were you looked at?” He asked you then, repositioning the ice to your cheek as he cupped the opposite side of your face with his free hand.

“Yeah. The Toronto medic checked me out.”

“Concussion?”

“Probably.”

Remus made a sympathetic tsking sound as he pulled the ice back from your face as if expecting the bruising to have gone down in the last 15 seconds. “I hate this.”

“What? My face?” You tried to tease.

“No.” Remus denied, shooting you an exasperated look. “What he’s done to your face.”

“It was a puck, Rem.” You chided. “It happens.”

“But not to you.”

“This is how I feel when you get hurt, you know.” You pointed out to him, even lifting one of your eyebrows expectantly at him.

Remus groaned. “But it’s supposed to happen to me.”

“It’s hockey. Now I’m just a real member of the team.”

Remus tilted his head as he smiled at you. “You’ve always been a member of the team, doc.” He assured you. “The prettiest member, at that.”

You hummed in appreciation as he moved his hand down the column of your neck; touch gentle and reverent as you tilted your head back against the wall.

“Don’t let Black hear you say that.”

Remus tried to control his laughter, he really did, but he couldn’t help the surprised bark that bubbled up at your words. “You know, I think he may feel bad enough to bestow the title to you.”

“You think?” You asked then, tilting your head into his hand that was holding the ice pack.

“Positive.” He promised, smiling at you in semi-content silence before tsking pathetically at you again. “My poor sweet girl; what do you need, hm? What can I do?”

You looked at him for a long moment; eyes darting across his face and pupils perhaps a bit too wide considering what just happened that threatened to make Remus’ protective ire return to its former boil from its current simmer when you came to some decision.

“Can you go shower?”

“Shower?” He asked disbelievingly, noticing you turn somewhat bashful.

“Please?”

“Yeah, you smell and you’re getting sweat all over our gorgeous medic.” James offered quietly as he slowly closed the door behind him; donned in his team hoodie and a pair of sweats, hair still dripping from the shower he just got out of and his contacts traded for his usual glasses as he moved across the room to sit beside you against the wall. “I’ve got it from here, Loops, but you’ll want to be quick; Grönvall knows doc has a thing for Swedes now, I may not be able to fight him off for long.”

James looked so earnest as he said it that the way his face melted at the sound of your laughter made Remus’ love for his teammate and captain increase tenfold; heart threatening to burst from his chest.

“Okay?” He asked you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then to your uninjured cheek, and then to the tip of your nose before placing one on your lips. “You’ll be okay with Cap? Think you can manage?”

“I’ll do my best.” You responded, your soft smile growing cheeky at the sound of James’ scoff, though your one eye twitched as you winced. “Fuck my face hurts.”

“Get out of here, Loops. You’re making her smile and hurting her face.” James scolded.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t leave me for Grönvall.” Remus insisted as he pressed one more kiss to your head before he stood and began walking towards the door. “I mean it; the only thing worse than a Norwegian or a Dane is another Swede.”

744 notes · View notes

queen-tashie · 1 year ago

Text

Seven Snips, Seven people

I was tagged by @mrbexwrites and you can see her post here.

How-to: Post seven Snippets, from different stories or the same, it's up to you. Tag seven people to play next.

Gently tagging: @sleepyowlwrites, @roselinbooks-official, @merriweather-the-un-merri-writer, @whicheverwarrior, @isabellebissonrouthier, @sky-jump, and @sarahlizziewrites, and an open tag for anyone that wants to join in.

Snips are below the cut. I put a special excerpt for the 7th one :)

Enjoy! :D

Part of the opening scene from The Quiet Forest (cw mild violence):

Runnicka hated this game he played. He always waited for her to strike first. So that’s exactly what she was going to do. She swung her sword wide, baiting him to block it. Before their blades connected, she pulled hers back, letting Zharan overshoot. Thump. Another point for her. Her heart raced as she tied the score again. She exhaled. Now was not the time to lose focus. But something changed as they stepped back from each other. Zharan smirked and his stance deepened, like he was about to launch himself toward her. That smug smile was unnerving, but she had to keep the pressure on. She started forward with the tip of her blade then retreated, hoping to trick him into the offensive again. It worked, but he attacked faster than she anticipated. Runnicka swung her sword, aiming for his chest, but he ducked under the clumsy attack. He stood inches away from Runnicka as her sword passed over him. Her jaw slammed shut and her head snapped back as Zharan hit her with an uppercut on the chin. She hit the ground, clutching her jaw and gasping for air. A leather-guarded sword tip touched her neck.

2. Later scene from The Quiet Forest (cw mild violence):

“Are we safe?” She asked between heaving breaths, slowing her run. “I think we did it, for now.” Xaerena was just as winded. They got low in the grass to conceal themselves, watching behind them as they caught their breath and massaged their calves. They had no weapons, no supplies, and no map. Soon they were moving again, staying low in what little cover they had. Xaerena crept behind her, her footsteps soft but audible. “Wait, did you hear that?” asked Runnicka. She paused and so did Xaerena. The footsteps continued from behind them. Her eyes widened. “Xaerena, run!” Runnicka started forward but was jerked backward when a strong hand grabbed her collar. The fabric of her shirt ripped a little from the force. Two hunters tackled Xaerena to the ground. She went limp on the impact. “Xaerena!” A jolt of fear went through Runnicka. It was the last thing she remembered before being hit over the head.

3. Part of the opening scene from Copper Frames (no cw):

She pulled on the bronze handle of the front door. The satisfying pops and whooshes of letter pods in the pneumatic tubes sounded off around the room as they went to and from their destinations. The glass tubes lined the walls and ceiling of the large open room. In one tube a pod was caught, and a trained rat scurried through the tube to dislodge it while the handler waited at the maintenance hatch. People lined up in the centre of the room following the painted lines on the floor, called over one by one to each open clerk. Amelia shuffled forward after the person in front of her, watching the lightning fast letters fly past.

4. Later scene from Copper Frames (cw kink/bdsm mention):

“I’ve only had this rash for a few weeks,” said Oleksandra, stilling herself. “I knew I shoulda asked that guy if he was clean.” “Clean? As in if he had any STIs?” “Yeah, exactly,” she said. "Said the bruises were from some BDSM party he went to. Bastard."

5. Scene from a portal fantasy flash fiction I wrote three years ago (and have yet to edit). These characters are goblins btw. Kings of Nothing (no cw):

He rolled up his sleeve, uncovering his bracer. The iron ball bearing he touched was warm, ready to release a portal into his world. He moved the gears within the bracer in a specific way. His muscle memory could still recall the movements he’d made when he opened the portal that released the demon. Each portal was a unique sequence of movements. Most of them he’d forgotten, but that was one he would never forget. He tried something similar to what he’d done the night before, but a little different. An orange portal opened before him in the dark of the cave. The light was bright and hurt his eyes when it appeared. He squinted and stepped through. Behind him the sound of feet running on stone approached him. Dega was about to close the portal when his neighbour, Tul, lunged through the portal, reaching for the bracer.

6. Scene from my short story The Diver (on AO3!) (cw blood, thalassophobia, shark attack)

The two divers behind her shrieked, rushing past her on their way out. As Andi turned to see what had made them flee, something cut her arm. She clutched the wound and faced her attacker. She could hardly process what she was looking at. It was a creature the size of one of her chickens. It had human like arms clutching a tiny polearm, the length of a kitchen knife. Its bottom half was dolphin-like, but it was covered in scales. Seaweed-like tendrils floated around its horrible face. It bared its teeth and threatened to cut Andi a second time before she fled the wreck after them. In front of her, the other two divers were leaving thin trails of blood as they made for their diving bells. One of the sharks turned rapidly, aiming towards a bleeding diver. It bit into his side and he thrashed until he went limp. Andi’s eyes went wide.

7. Finally, I've decided to include a very, very rough (outlined, not even really drafted) excerpt from a non-fiction I'm writing, which is an ADHD cookbook! Technically a story if you read between the lines XD (no cw):

Kitchen Cleaning/Organizing Tips Do some dishes in the time between steps Put thing where you’re going to use them (hot plates by the counter, knives by the cutting board, spices by the stove, vegetables in the door of the fridge so they go bad less often) Meal prep doesn’t have to be entire meals. Pick a day you have the energy to make a large batch of something – boiled eggs, grated cheese, cooked chicken, etc. DO NOT substitute wax paper for parchment paper ever. Wax paper is not meant to be heated.

#my writing #excerpts #writing #writeblr #the quiet forest #copper frames #kings of nothing #the diver #adhd cookbook

9 notes · View notes

cetaitlaverite · 2 years ago

Text

a last minute blind dates submission!!! i loved doing this back in 2021 (can’t believe it was that long ago) and was sad to miss it last year, so i was keen to get this done however last minute. thank you for hosting @mercurygray - you’re amazing for encouraging writers to challenge ourselves with things like this!!!

since i’ve not been writing as much as i’d like to recently i tried to challenge myself more than i normally might: i wrote an oc who’s different to the type of character i tend to gravitate towards, and paired her with a canon character i tend to cower from. this has definitely been an exercise in pushing myself out of my comfort zone which is always a good thing!! anyway, without further adieu:

One Day, Maybe Soon

Her mother always says that the war made her mean. That flying military planes and playing at being a fighter pilot hardened something in her, made her ruthless, made her forget her place. She says that the moment she went from Phillipa to Pip was the moment it was all over, as if someone deciding she was worth making a nickname for was what allowed for everything which followed: the first time she forgot to force a laugh when the joke wasn’t funny, the first time she didn’t feel inclined to say yes when a man offered to buy her a drink, the first time she walked into a room and didn’t try to make herself smaller so that she wouldn’t take up too much space.

Letting silly young women take up men’s jobs was the beginning of the end of good social order, her mother always says. And she is nothing short of furious that she can no longer say as much to her friends during their weekly book club meetings without sly eyebrows being cocked when the other women think she won’t notice, because her own daughter is one of the women who now refuses to remember herself and her decorum.

Pip decided a while ago that she doesn’t care what her mother thinks of what the war has done to her, because what room can an opinion like that force into the limited space in her head which isn’t dominated by bloodstained memories? But that doesn’t mean she gets a free pass from listening to her constant lectures about manners and being ladylike and what men want in a woman.

She’s at the dance tonight at her mother’s request. These dances take place quite a lot, she knows, and are often where nice young local men who have just returned from the war find nice young local women and marry them. It’s clear to Pip from the moment she sets foot inside the room that that is all anyone is here for: couples dance in the space allotted for a dance floor but talk constantly, trying to discern whether their partner is marriage material in the duration of a song; small groups stand along the walls, seeking out their next target for a dance; and lone men and women filter in and out, wondering whether they might have better luck outside on the lawn as opposed to in here and vice versa.

The hall is bright with warm light, the music loud where the band plays joyously in the far corner. Constant chatter and the sounds of shoes scuffing the wooden floor fight to be heard above the man singing into the microphone. The door, propped open to account for the constant flow of people in and out, allows in a gentle summer breeze, cooling the sweat-dampened skin of those lucky enough to find themselves close to it. For everyone else, the air is thick and heavy, the kind of wet heat which only comes from a summer evening spent packed tightly into a room with far too many people.

Pip stands in a corner, leaning against the wall, watching. That’s another thing her mother hates that she has brought back from the war: the constant need to observe. Pip argues that this should be an expected trait of a pilot, especially one who was often flying freshly manufactured planes without a manual, especially one who was stationed close enough to Pearl Harbor to feel it when it got hit. But her mother will hear nothing of it. “It isn’t polite to stare.”

Regardless, Pip stares to her heart’s content. In fact, she more than stares. She watches. She finds people who seem at least somewhat interesting and tracks them, plays a game with herself where she attempts to predict whether they’ll take a liking to their current dance partner or bow out as soon as possible and try to find someone else.

She wouldn’t say she’s enjoying herself, as such. There has been little she finds enjoyment in after returning from near-constant flight hours and barracks filled with women she loved more than her own family. But she’s content. The whole thing is less excruciating than she expected it to be now that she finds she can stand in her own little world and watch.

Which is why it makes complete sense when someone ruins her little game.

“He’s gonna go for the blonde the second the song is over.”

Pip’s head snaps sideways. Already, there is a glare on her face, a hostile twist to her mouth. “No,” she grinds out, turning back to watch the dark-haired man dancing with a brunette girl closest to where she’s standing. “He’s going to ask the brunette to dance again, and she’s going to say no.”

“Nah,” the stranger beside her corrects. She hates that she can hear him grinning. “He’s been eyeing up the blonde from the second he walked in. Only danced with her friend to get her attention.”

Pip scoffs, searching hurriedly for something to say to that; she hasn’t been watching this particular couple long enough to determine whether the stranger is right.

“That blond guy over there’ll swoop in and take the brunette for a spin right after,” he goes on. When Pip spares him an irritated glance she finds him pointing at the man he means, and she follows the gesture toward a blond man who is, in fact, staring brazenly at the brunette girl, like a hawk who has just set eyes on its dinner.

Pip swallows hard, scoffs again, and looks away. “Maybe,” she allows. She turns her eyes on a different couple, closer to the door.

“Now, them,” the redheaded man beside her persists, having followed her line of sight, “they’ll go home together, I bet. They been in here and out there and at the punch table and on the dance floor. Stuck to each other like glue the whole damn night. If I didn’t know any better I’d say they was already together, but no one comes to these things when they already got someone on their arm.”

“Is that so?” Pip asks with discernible contempt, a scowl curling down her lips. She’s not sure why she’s so furious with this man for interrupting her peace - at least he’s playing her game along with her instead of trying to force her to dance with him - but there’s something about men feeling they have a right to her time which rubs her the wrong way. He didn’t even feel he had to ask to stand so close to her, and he instantly presumed to know what she was thinking. Is it such a crime that she should have a right to keep her thoughts to herself?

“Yep,” the man replies to her clipped answer. “‘Cept I don’t see you gettin’ in on the action.”

And here is the inevitable opening he is making for himself so he can drop a line.

Pip rolls her eyes. “I’m not interested.”

It’s maddening, the way he laughs. He seems to take everything on the chin. When she hazards a glance at him again he’s grinning and shaking his head, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his uniform - some army regiment or other, judging by the khaki - and he doesn’t look at all offended.

“You already got a lucky fella?” he asks politely enough.

“I don’t need one,” Pip replies coldly.

He turns to look at her properly, now, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing one ankle over the other. “Which one of ‘em stepped on your toes?” He indicates the men on the dance floor with his head.

She wants to slap the grin right off of his face.

Perhaps he realises, because he laughs.

Pip turns back to the room and sets her eyes on a couple dancing next to the far wall.

The man beside her is still grinning when he asks, “What’s your name?”

“Don’t have one,” Pip replies shortly.

“You don’t got a name?” the man asks with mock horror, humouring her. “Not even a last name?”

“Why would you ever need to know my last name?”

“So I know how to address your dad when I ask for his blessing.”

In her shock at such a brazen answer, Pip chokes on the saliva she’d been just about to swallow.

She turns to him slowly, eyes narrowed as she prepares to bite, but she finds she has no words to spit at him. Her mouth opens and closes in her desperate search.

Eventually, her scowl falters. “Pip,” she relents. “That’s my first name.”

His wide grin gets even wider. It’s only a little bit endearing. “Great to meet ya, Pip. I’m Babe.”

Her face hardens right back up again.

“I swear that ain’t a line,” he rushes to reassure her, extending both hands towards her like he’s calming a wild animal. “That’s what all my buddies call me. Childhood nickname.”

“Your childhood nickname is Babe?” Her tone makes it clear that she doesn’t believe him.

The stranger shrugs. “Got it when I was a baby and it stuck.” He smiles at her again. “You can call me Edward if you really wanna, but it’s a little formal if you ask me.”

Pip sighs and shakes her head. “Fine. Babe it is.”

“So, Pip,” Babe goes on, “you dance at all?”

“No.”

He brushes this away with his hand and an easygoing smile. “Aw, come on. Not even one dance?”

“No.”

“Well -”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

Pip clicks her tongue. “I’ve got a good few guesses.”

He tips his head back, groaning but still smiling wide. “You’re killing me.”

In spite of herself, and only because he can’t see her, she lets the tiniest of smiles tug at her lips. The instant she notices him begin to tip his chin back down again, however, the smile is gone, replaced by the cool look of indifference she wears whenever she’s not sure what else to do with her face.

She feels bad, for a moment, when he looks back at her with that same smile but a little bit of the brightness dying in his eyes. He doesn’t deserve her coldness, she understands - really, she’s not sure why she’s working so hard to maintain it - so she works to release all of the tension in her body, which is an awful lot. Finally, she turns to face Babe with what she hopes comes across as only a little encouragement. “I’m going outside,” she tells him. “I want to look at the stars.”

There’s a flicker of that brightness back in his eyes. Only for an instant and then it’s gone again, but it’s enough. She feels it in the soft tug in her chest, in the flip of her stomach.

“The stars it is,” Babe replies.

As they leave the hall, Babe informs her that there’s a small garden around the back of the building with a bench for them to sit on, somewhere they won’t be disturbed. Instantly, her hackles are up, and she’s casting wary glances at him out of the corner of her eye as she silently questions his intentions. But when they get to the garden he simply throws himself onto the grass and leans his head back on the bench to gaze up at the stars.

Hiding a smile in her shoulder, Pip sits in the grass at the opposite end of the bench and copies his pose.

“I miss being up there, sometimes,” Babe says quietly a while into their comfortable silence.

“What do you mean?”

He laughs a little self-consciously as he realises he’s spoken without giving context. “In planes,” he explains. “I used to jump out of ‘em.”

“During the war?” Pip asks.

He hums his affirmative.

She smiles softly, just now noticing the patch on his arm, with an open-mouthed eagle and the word ‘airborne’ embroidered above it. “You were a paratrooper.”

“Yeah.” He nods, his eyes still on the stars. Then he scoffs. “Long time ago now, though. Ain’t jumped out of a plane since Holland.”

It’s the sadness she can see in his eyes when he shoots a glance over at her that makes her speak next. “I miss being up there, too.”

He smiles slightly, crookedly, less cocksure now but more sincere. “You were a paratrooper too?”

She rolls her eyes at the joke, but she smiles, too. “A pilot,” she corrects. “But not anymore. I haven’t flown a plane since I came back home.”

“How come?”

She opens her mouth to reply and then promptly closes it. Not yet. Not that. It’s still too much, too soon, too haunting.

So she shrugs and tears her eyes away from Babe, looks back up into the sky she misses so much but can’t seem to stomach returning to.

“Maybe you can take me up there one day,” Babe says a little later. When Pip glances over at him she gets the feeling he’s been watching her for a while, waiting patiently for her to regain her composure. “Since we both miss it so much,” he adds when he can’t seem to puzzle out the expression on her face.

She can’t really puzzle out what she’s feeling herself. It’s a scary thing, the thought of flying again, but the idea of it makes her blood hum in her veins, makes her heart thud a little bit harder and faster. She finds she likes the idea of it, taking Babe up in a plane, wants to mull it over a little longer whether it ever actually happens or not. Really, she realises, she likes the idea of herself being the kind of person who could do that more than she likes the idea itself. She wants to think of herself as the kind of girl who might be able to take a boy up in a plane and fly around for a while, because she loves flying and likes him and what better way is there to spend her time than that?

“Alright,” she agrees eventually. She can see she’s surprised him by the crookedness of his grin, less forced and more sincere now that he’s softened her a little. “One day, maybe soon, I’ll take you up in my plane. But you have to promise not to go jumping out of it if you decide you don’t like me all that much after all.”

Babe grins, and now Pip finds she likes that grin of his, too. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#blind dates 2023 #my writing #mine

8 notes · View notes

issybettyx · 2 years ago

Text

Au inspired by the dream smp finale

My writer brain is ticking, so have this

Cw: techno death mention, final dsmp stream spoilers

—

The player wasn’t sure where they were.

The cold was biting at their fingertips, but they pressed their hands deep into their coat pockets, studying the spruce trees around them with a careful eye. They hadn’t seen any form of life in weeks, only knowing the sound of their feet falling onto the ground. In a way, it was relieving to be in nature’s silence, but their anxiety was nagging at them that if anything went wrong, no one would know.

Someone had once asked them ‘If a tree falls in a forest, but no one is around, did it make a sound?’

That question repeated in their head, over and over as they watched their feet, making sure not to trip over any stray roots.

If they screamed, would it truly happen if no one was around to hear it?

The sun was starting to dip over the horizon, and after a whole other day of finding nothing, the player almost lay down to rest for the night.

But something caught their eye.

A structure.

Their feet had never moved faster, reaching a fence and jumping over it without an issue, practically stumbling as they reached the spruce stairs, before their knuckles rapped on the door.

There was no answer.

After a few too many seconds of silence passed, they knocked again.

There was still no reply.

The player attempted to push the door open, but found that it easily opened with a squeak.

There were rows of chests in front of them, and a ladder to their left that led up and down.

First, they went down, crawling down into another chest room. There was a painting pinned to the wall of a man who looked more like a strong warrior.

His hair was long and pink, his cape a deep red as it flapped behind him. The painting used warm colours, depicting this strong warrior in a calm environment.

Words were painted gracefully at the top, reading ‘When the war has been won’.

A sadness filled the player, but they moved on.

They decided to go up the ladder, finding themselves in the attic. In a barrel were several different belongings, the next more expensive than the last. The player didn’t take any of it. Instead, they turned to a bell that was on top of an emerald block, ringing it and listening to the sound as it echoed throughout the house.

An unnerving chill ran down their spine, and they decided to leave it as it was, sending a glance at the emerald block the bell sat on before climbing down the stairs, pressing open the door. Opposite this hut was another, and the player walked up to it, the door opening in front of them as they stepped on the pressure plate.

The house didn’t have a ladder, and was mostly filled with barrels.

There was an image of a brunette on the other side, but it seemed like it had a story behind it the player wasn’t privy to, so they left that house behind as well.

As much as they wanted to take a few things for the journey, something stopped them from it. Despite the house being obviously abandoned by both past occupants, it was as if a barrier stopped their mind from taking anything.

So they continued on, jumping over the fence and hopping over the hill.

There was a portal.

The player entered.

The nether was hot, the player knew this. What the player also knew was that the nether didn’t naturally spawn such pathways, following the obsidian that led the way as they looked over the edge, bubbling lava below.

According to ancient scrolls, many dangerous species used to roam these lands. Ghasts, flying creatures that threw balls of fire at players. Piglins, creatures who attacked anyone who didn’t adorn an expensive piece of gold. Magma cubes, blocky creatures that caused damage on impact.

But, after centuries of hunting and heat, they all went extinct.

The nether was a desolate desert.

The path led to another, larger, portal, and the player entered.

What they expected was nothing like what they saw.

It was a civilisation.

Houses were spread across the land, a long path leading up mountains. There was a house in front of them, and when they headed towards it, the player found themself stood on a floor of crafting tables.

They turned left, walking along the oak path that led the way.

As they walked, they looked at the buildings around them, each as silent as the next. The player was alone, but they had a feeling that a while ago this place would’ve been full of life, of loud shouting and arguments, and yet so much happiness and friendship. They saw a museum on their right, breaking off the path to walk towards the tall pillars.

At first glance, the player was confused. But then they realised that it was a museum of the country’s past.

First they walked towards the van in the centre of the room, opening the door and peeking inside.

It was a drug van.

They hastily left.

They turned to the next thing that caught their eye; a blackstone box. Upon entering, they realised there were chests along the walls, each with names scrawled on chests.

Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, Eret.

There was a button in the middle of the room.

They moved on.

The next room had stone walls, oak signs along them. After reading the first few, the player realised it was a song, and not a happy one.

There was another button, attached to the opposite wall to the doorway. A chair was in the centre.

They turned back to the song, running their fingers along the words etched into the wood.

I heard there was a special place

Where men could go an emancipate

The brutality and tyranny of their rulers

Well this place is real

You needn’t fret

With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret.

It’s a really big and not blown up L’Manberg

My L’Manberg

My L’Manberg.

It was the same names as before, the player realised.

They moved on.

In one of the far corners of the room, there was a bright red egg, and the player immediately felt drawn away from it, moving across the room and onto a platform where several lecterns sat. It seemed to all be from a prison, and that made them jump back down, finding themselves stood in front of an obsidian room.

It had the same feeling as the big red egg.

The player moved on.

They decided to go to the back of the museum, swiftly walking past the egg to see a massive map.

A map of the entire civilisation that was built.

It was so much bigger than the player had first imagined.

They moved on, going to walk out of the museum before realising there were steps into a basement.

After a moment of hesitation, and consideration of the silence that sat heavily around them, the player skipped down the stairs, walking straight forward and ignoring everything around them.

There was a white shrine, a pig head in the centre with a crown that read ‘Technoblade’. There were also several items placed beside it, like a totem of undying. One of the rarest, most expensive items the world had ever come to find.

But it was a shrine, and it would be disrespectful to take from it right?

So, they left the items there, taking in the pig face that looked back at them.

The shade was similar to the man’s hair in the painting, his crown fit for a king. His crown similar to the painting.

That house in the snow, the homely cabin filled with resources that the player couldn’t take. An inhabitant had passed before the others, before the civilisation went silent.

Overwhelming sadness overcame them, something unplaceable that made them freeze in place, looking up at the face staring right back at them. Their heart was full, and yet so empty at the same time.

Eventually, the player moved on.

Their feet carried out of the museum and continued down the oak path, eventually approaching a hill that they walked up with ease, the wooden staircase making the job a little easier. Gates greeted them, which they pushed open.

The first warning sign was the yellow and black walls built up, obsidian and concrete blocks shielding this area from the surroundings.

The player continued down the path, noticing a wooden bench to the left under a tree, looking out over the landscape before them. Judging by how the moon was moving towards it as it moved across the sky, it seemed to be facing west.

A perfect place to watch the sunset.

The player looked to their right, noticing a wooden house that seemed to be inside the mountain, or at least once was.

A sign was placed beside it over an oak log, reading ‘TOMMYINNIT ENTERPRISE’.

Tommy.

His name was everywhere.

His name was on the chests in the museum, as well as the signs along the stone walls in that song, a deadly anthem, an unfinished symphony.

But he seemed to have lived through it all, having had a place unharmed by the unwavering silence.

The player didn’t even push open the door.

Upon noticing an explosion ahead, the player decided to go right first, walking through a short tunnel before finding themself high above what stood in front.

As they continued down the path, they realised all to see was an overgrown pit. A pit was a bit of an understatement, because the thing was massive.

A flag sat at the bottom among the still water, red white and blue with a black semi circle and three yellow crosses.

The pit was once a nation. And the flag screamed power.

The player turned back.

The player moved on.

They walked past the wooden hill house, noticing the tall black tower and small red and white house also within the vicinity, but didn’t waste time looking inside, and instead heading straight to the explosion. It had cut off the path, but placed dirt made it possible to walk across, although a little tight and a little worrying, the player got across easily.

In the distance, they saw a massive blackstone structure, and a daunting feeling crawled inside of their chest, itching that pushed them both towards it and away from it.

They knew that was the prison presented in the museum, and that knowledge was what made them turn back, walking back down the oak path without second glancing at anything.

They needed to leave and they needed to leave now.

“Hello Tommy.”

The player paused, hands twitching at the kind voice that spoke to them. It was a feminine voice, filled with honey and promise of a sweet forever.

The player turned, coming face to face with a dark haired woman, a long black dress flowing to the ground with large black wings from her back. They reminded them of someone, someone forgotten with time.

“It’s time to go home.”

The player looked around at the silent civilisation around them, taking a deep breath. The player looked at the bench, and a melody played in their head, a melody that only reminded them of joy and good things.

All good things must come to an end eventually.

The player remembered sitting beside a grinning brunette, hiding his anxieties behind a facade of confidence.

The player remembered tending to wolves in the snow with a pink haired man, a man who was strong beyond belief in many more ways than one should be.

The player remembered the pride from a brother’s face, holding their nation’s flag high on grounds that would one day become nothing but a deep hole.

Tommy remembered it all, and the woman knew it.

“Your family is waiting, you’ve been here long enough.” She told him quietly, keeping patient as Tommy looked back at her, a desperation in his no longer blue eyes.

“But I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to forget.” He tried, looking at the bench as his chest squeezed too tight to be comfortable.

“You won’t forget.” She assured, taking a few steps closer and offering her hand.

Tommy stared at it for a moment, taking a deep breath before meeting her dark-eyed gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Tommy accepted the hand.

Tommy moved on.

#dream smp #mcytblr #dream smp au #dream smp finale #tommyinnit

3 notes · View notes

bakuhoes-dumbass · 4 years ago

Text

Aberration - Chapter 3

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Third chap, here we go! It’ll start picking up soon. I know there isn’t much ‘horror’ rn, but it will get there, I promise. Also, I’m sorry Tamaki’s part is a bit longer than Hawks. I just adore Tamaki so much and he deserves the world and lots of hugs and kithes.

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing. More to come.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist

~~~

"Good afternoon Mr. Keigo, my name is Y/N and I'll-" You look up from your notes to see a half naked man with blonde hair and bright red bird wings lounging on his bed. Your jaw drops and you hold your clipboard up in front of your suddenly heated face.

Keigo looks over to you with his brows raised. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves a new baby bird. How…" The handsome man's lips turn up into a cocky smirk.

"...interesting."

You peek over your clipboard to see his cocky smirk and hide your eyes again. "Keigo, would you please put on a shirt?"

He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows. "What, too embarrassed to look at me, baby bird? I'll tell you what. You tell me who you are, and if you're single, and I'll cover myself."

"My name is Y/N. I'm the newest scientist in this facility, here to observe you, hoping it helps to find a cure. And there is no need for you to know my relationship status."

"Ah, ah, ah. If you don't tell me, you'll have to do this interview while gazing at my gorgeous body." You hear the cockiness in his voice.

"I swear to fu- fine, yes I'm currently happily single. Now, please put your shirt on." You mumble under your breath, "this is so inappropriate."

After a minute of rustling, Keigo leans back onto his bed. "Okay, my single baby bird. I'm all covered up for you."

You lower your clipboard just below your eyes to make sure, seeing the smirking bird man lounging on his bed with a shirt on. You finally lower your clipboard all the way before giving a curt nod. Making your way to the desk chair, you smile at the man.

"Thank you, Keigo. As I said before, my name is Y/N and I'm here to get to know you."

He snickers, "well, I'm here to answer any questions you have for me, baby bird. Fire away."

You sigh and open your notebook. "Must you call me such a name?"

"Awe, do you not like when I call you that?"

Sighing once more, you decide to just move on. You know you'll end up going in circles. "Please state your full name, age and date of birth for me."

"My name is Keigo Takami. I'm 28 years old. My birthday is December 28th." He paused to let you write that down before opening his mouth again. "Did you need my star sign and my relationship status? Well, I'm a Capricorn and I am definitely sin-"

"Nope, that's enough." You cut him off before he could ramble on even more. "Now, can you tell me what your quirk is exactly?"

Keigo blinks before turning around, the chains on his ankles clanking against the bed frame. Your eyes light up being able to actually see the giant, beautiful red bird wings coming from his back. You frowned slightly noticing they were pinned down, preventing him from being able to use them.

"Does that hurt? Having them pinned like that?" You tilt your head eyes following the edges of each feather.

Keigo lets out a quiet chuckle, eyeing you from over his shoulder. "A little. But nothing I can't handle. Why, is my baby bird worried about little ole me?"

Your frown turns into a glare and you clear your throat. "So, what exactly can you do with these wings of yours?"

Keigo's mouth twitches into a smirk as he turns back around to face you. "Well, I can fly. And I can also disconnect each feather from my wings and use them individually."

You nod, not wanting to show how impressed you were, knowing he'd make a crack at it. You finish writing down that information before asking your next question. "Now, can you tell me why you are here?"

"Getting down to the nitty-gritty, I see. Well, I was arrested and charged with Drug Trafficking, Forgery and Assault." You look at him, motioning him to continue. He shrugs. "There isn't much else to it. I'm a mafia leader. This shit happens on a daily basis, for years. Just so happened that I eventually got caught, on account of a leak in my group. Fortunately, for me, I use other people to do the killing for me. So that means they couldn't get me with murder." He cocks his head. "Unfortunately, though, trafficking and forgery are also felonies, so. That's why I'm here."

"So you spent your life moving copious amounts of drugs, forging money and assaulting clients who did you wrong?"

Keigo thinks about your words for a moment and nods. "Essentially, yes."

"Alright then." You stand up and bow your head to the mafia leader who was watching you carefully. "I will take my leave, as I have one more inmate to see before the end of my shift." You head towards the door, but pause for a moment. "Oh, and Keigo?" You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. "Your wings are beautiful."

Keigo's eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly, watching you walk out that door. His face turns bright red after processing your words. He mutters under his breath, "oh, baby bird…"

After shutting the door behind you, you breathe out. Aizawa looks up from his phone. "How'd it go?"

You raise a brow, "what, you weren't watching me through the security cameras like before?"

"Oh, I was," he deadpanned. "But, visually, it didn't look as compromising as the last two visits. The cameras don't pick up audio."

"Well, besides the lack of clothing in the beginning and the incessant flirting, I was pleasantly surprised."

Aizawa looked at his watch. "Now, I think we have time for one more before we have to turn in paperwork and unchain the more dangerous inmates from their beds to give them some room to stretch out." Aizawa flips through the profiles before stopping on one. "How about Amajiki?"

You turn to his profile and scan the words in front of you. "A cannibal, huh. Well that's not something you see every day."

"I think he'd be good to end the day with. Despite him being, well, a cannibal, he's actually extremely reserved and quite timid. I don't think he'd try to hurt you or get close to you. He suffers from borderline personality disorder, as you see." Aizawa looks up from his notes and eyes you. "However, he is a level 10. He may come across as innocent and somewhat angelic, but remember, he is one of the most dangerous criminals in this facility. He has multiple murders under his belt. So just keep that in mind."

You nod your head, slightly bouncing with excitement. This one sounds quite interesting to you. You've never met a cannibal before and this one has a quirk that sounds intriguing. Aizawa sighs before turning away from Hawk's door and heading further down the long hallway. He stops in front of a heavy door and scans you in.

Once you step inside the white room, you furrow your brows, not really noticing anyone. That's when you hear a small whimper and a few muffled, stuttered words coming from the floor next to the bed.

"W-Who are you?"

You lean to the side to see an indigo-haired figure huddled against the wall between the desk and the bed. You notice his body is trembling, only his eyes visible through his bangs, his arms covering the rest of his face. Head tilted, you squat down from a distance and smile.

"Hi there, Amajiki. My name is Y/N. I'm the newest scientist at this facility. I'm here to talk to you and get to know you to help further our findings for a cure. I'd like to be friends, if that's possible." You reply gently. You can tell he's scared out of his mind.

He raises his head up, giving you a full view of his…

Muzzle?

"F-friends?"

Your eyes widen slightly. The bottom half of Amajiki's face, from his nose to under his chin, is completely covered by a silver muzzle. It's strapped around his head and locked in place by a padlock. Your eyes travel down to see his wrists chained together with quirk cancelling cuffs and, as you expected, both of his ankles are chained to the heavy duty bed frame.

"They have you muzzled like that?" You stare in disbelief, slightly angered at the treatment. You understand that he's a known cannibal, but to strap that heavy muzzle around his head on top of chains already weighing him down.

Amajiki nods shyly, "y-yeah. I guess it's because of the whole e-eating people… thing."

You sit yourself down on the floor across from him, your notes in your lap. "Is it uncomfortable?" He nods slowly, his eyes avoiding yours. You give him a small smile. "I'm sorry."

His eyes shoot to yours, confusion flashing through them. "Why are you sorry?"

"It...seems like a lot of you are possibly being mistreated here. I've noticed a few things here and there."

Amajiki's brows furrow. "And why should you care? W-We're criminals."

"True. However, this facility isn't supposed to be judge, jury and executioner. You're entitled to a fair trial, just like everyone else. That includes not being mistreated." Your smile never leaves your face as you look the man in the eyes. "I am not only here to research a cure, but make sure in doing so, it won't harm any of you. It'll be humane, I promise." Amajiki just stares at you with an unreadable expression. You sigh and click your pen. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Amajiki?" He shakes his head but stays quiet.

"Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"U-um. Tamaki Amajiki, 25, March 4th."

"Thank you. And what is your quirk?"

Amajiki hugs his knees tighter. "I-It's called Manifestation. Essentially, whatever I eat and digest, I can manifest as a body part."

Your leg bounces in excitement. "So, if you were to eat, let's say, Takoyaki, you can turn your hand into tentacles?" He nods his head. Your eyes light up. "That is incredible, Amajiki. That's such a powerful quirk!"

Amajiki's eyes widened, a blush spreading across his cheeks that were partially hidden under his muzzle. This is the first time he's ever been thankful to have this thing attached to his face. "U-um, t-thanks."

You let out a soft giggle and continue writing in your notes. "Here's a little bit more of a difficult question, Amajiki. Can you please tell me why you are incarcerated in this facility?"

Amajiki stays quiet, not looking at you. You notice his hesitation. You think for a moment before looking around the room. Amajiki sneaks a glance at you, watching you look around the room. His brows furrow. "W-What are you…"

You finally spot the locations of the camera and move your body so your back was facing it. Ignoring his question, you place your pen down directly in front of you so only Amajiki can see. You furrow your brows in concentration and stick your tongue out as you hover your hand over your pen. To Amajiki's utter shock, the pen starts floating in the air.

"Y-You have a quirk?!"

You nod your head and release the pen from your power. "Yeah, I do. It's nothing fancy like yours, but it is a mutation, nonetheless. Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone who understands more of your situation than you might think. So that's why I wanted to show you." You smile at the man, who is looking at you with pure adoration. "Please, keep this to yourself. I don't know what Aizawa would do if he found out about it."

"I-I won't tell anyone, I promise."

You giggle and sit back down in your original spot. "Thank you. Now, can you please tell me why you're in this facility?"

He nods his head, still slightly dazed about this new-found information. "I was charged with multiple counts of 1st degree murder a-and…" his voice drops to a whisper, "s-serial cannibalism."

You couldn't help your interest in the subject and started rambling. "Would you be so kind as to explain how this came about? Did you grow up into a family of cannibals or-"

"NO!" He lashes out, causing you to flinch slightly. He winces as your reaction, not intending to scare you. "N-no. Nothing like that. It happened… against my will, so to say?" Amajiki sighs and rests his chin on his arms, not meeting your eyes. "I was one of the only kids in my small town to have been born with a mutation. My parents tried to hide it, tried to hide me. I don't know if it was from fear of people hurting me or fear of everyone judging them for having me."

He blinks a few times before continuing. "The town I lived in was small, a bad side to say the least. Lots of low-lifes and gangs running around. Well, long story short, someone found out about me and what my quirk was. They kidnapped me and…" He trails off. Suddenly, his eyes snapped to yours, an uncomfortable and intense feeling overwhelming you. "They forced me to eat another person, someone with a quirk. They wanted to see if I could turn their power into my own."

He cocks his head and lets out a cackle, still making eye contact with you. "Can you believe that?! It actually worked! So what did they do? They forced me to eat ANOTHER quirk user. They wanted to turn me into an ultimate weapon." Amajiki lets out a strange noise, sounding like a mixture between a guttural sob and a laugh. "Well, the joke was on them in the end. I ended up killing and eating them in the end and escaping. But after that point, something mutated further in my quirk. I couldn't stop craving human flesh." He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "A-And that's why I'm here now."

Your eyes are wide and your breath is heavy. Something inside you feels a sense of panic, looking at the clearly broken man in front of you. It's so much information to take in, you stay quiet for awhile, your body on high alert. Amajiki notices how quiet you are and he opens his eyes. He notices a terrified look on your face and internally panics.

"W-Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I-I'm not going to hurt you." He finally moves out from his huddled form and kneels instead, the sound of chains clinking together snapping you out of it. "I-I would n-never hurt you." He whispers the last part, hoping you wouldn't hear it.

You clear your throat after taking a few deep breaths. "T-Thank you for telling me this, Amajiki. It was really brave of you to relive those experiences." You look at him and notice the fear and concern in his face. Giving him a small smile, you close your notebook. "I'm fine, I promise." You stand up on shaky legs and bow your head. "I need to get going."

Amajiki quickly stands up, making you slightly flinch again, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Y-You're leaving already? Will I get to see you again?"

"You will. I'm an employee here now, so I'll be the one to check up on all the inmates and work on everyone's individual sessions." You turn your back and walk to the door. "I'll see you later, Amajiki."

The indigo-haired man watches you walk through his door, longing written across his face. The only thing running through his mind are thoughts of the pretty telekinesis that made his heart race.

Once out the door, Aizawa meets you in the hallway. "How'd it go with the man-eater?"

You scowl at the doctor. "Why do you say things like that? He has a name."

"He's a criminal, Y/N. They're all criminals. Shouldn't matter what we call them." He rolls his eyes. "Just come with me. We have to finish our paperwork before the end of the day."

You grumble under your breath but follow the tired-looking doctor to his office. "You also need to prepare yourself for tomorrow. You will be meeting Kaminari, Midoriya, Shinso, Bakugo, Todoroki, Dabi and Kai. And 5 out of the 7 are level 8 and above."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @megumitodoroki @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused @themotherofmoons @ihaveakoreanseoul @1-800-multifandomness @dabis-s-whore @tragically-here @andyronii @sunnnyshark @henhouse-horrors @maggiecc @tspice283 @orenjineki @aaannabbanana @letskidaddle @yzviea @jjk-is-my-shit @iwachanslove

[If your name is bolded, I wasn’t able to tag you]

2K notes · View notes

ya-so-im-here · 3 years ago

Text

Deathday [Larry x Ahkmenrah]

Writer: Me, I have it published under my Wattpad account TheNinjaOfCake22

Fandom: Night at the Museum

Ship: Larry Daley x Ahkmenrah

Link: https://www.wattpad.com/1122938301-deathday-larry-x-ahkmenrah-one-shot-deathday/page/6

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

The sun had set and on queue Larry Daley felt the life return to the exhibits around him, changing from still wax figures to living people he called family.

Jed and Octavius spent little to know time rushing down from their separate exhibits towards the main area along with more of their friends and used the computer, it was something they had loved since Larry showed them how it worked.

Teddy rode off as usual to pick up Sacajawea from her room with Louis and Clark who since the glass had broke had an open exhibit allowing Teddy and Sacajawea to spend every night together.

Attila was seen with Dexter the two were with the rest of the Huns by Rexie. All had seemed right and normal like every night till Larry realized the one person he was always excited to see was missing from the usual night commotion.

Ahkmenrah wasn't there.

As predictable as it may seem, everyone always gathered in the main area and would spread out throughout the night, everyone would get together. Especially Ahkmenrah he was never late.

Fear and a dreading feeling began to form in Larry's stomach as he doubled and tripled check for the pharaoh, but he wasn't there.

A nagging feeling whispered in his head saying something was wrong as he began to make his way up the stairs. 'He's probably talking to someone or taking his time. There is no need to worry' he told himself but he continued on his way to Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus.

"Ahkmenrah?!" Larry called out as he made his way down the hall and towards the doorway to the pharaoh's chamber.

But there was no reply, so he called out again... no reply. He told the panicking feeling to go away he had just seen him last night and all was alright. Perhaps he's somewhere in the museum talking with the others.

'There is no need to worry'

Nonetheless he called out once more as he turned the corner and entered the Egyptian's room. "Ahkmenrah?!"

Larry walked straight to the display where his sarcophagus lay in the center of the back of the room right before the Tablet of Ahkmenrah.

Upon approach Larry looked within and saw the still body of Ahkmenrah, and instantly his heart stopped out of fear.

He reached out his hand and placed it on the pharaoh's shoulder and instantly he opened his eyes meeting Larry's worried gaze.

Larry exhaled softly seeing his friend all right and smiled lightly, but as he examined him closer he realized how still he was. He wasn't moving, didn't even smile when Larry came up and Ahkmenrah always smiled when Larry approached.

"Hey are you alright?" He asked nervously as he kept his hand on Ahk's shoulder.

Ahkmenrah's jaw clenched and squinted lightly before he attempted a smile that failed to form. Now he definitely had something to worry about, Ahk went to open his mouth ad gasped sharply for air. "Larry" he whispered softly but before he could finish his sentence Larry had padded his shoulder and stood up straight.

"I'll be right back, okay? One moment" and he started out of the room as he heard another attempted whisper "Larry" but he was already in search for Teddy, Teddy would have answers.

Larry went turning corners quickly but not trying to cause any worry, even though he never seemed so scared before. 'Was the tablet failing?' the thought made his stomach drop, how could he live without them? they're his family and to live without Ahk, it just wasn't possible.

Bounding around a corner he noticed the swish of Texas' tail as Teddy rounded another corner, Larry just barely missing him. With a quick sprint the nightguard turned the corner and there was Teddy and Sacajawea riding Texas as they tended to do each night.

"Teddy!" Larry shouted out catching the past president's attention as well as Sacajawea's. "Something's wrong with Ahkmenrah, he's not moving and won't say anything" granted he said his name, but nothing to explain the situation. Teddy's cheerful smile fell as Sacajawea looked down both of them full of knowing.

"It's June 21st" mumbled Teddy in sorrow Wea nodded confirming his statement.

"What does that have to do with anything? What does that mean?" Larry asked looking between the two for answers. Texas turned around so that Teddy and Wea faced the night guard as they explained.

"Well Laurence, while most people marked their calender's of the day of their birth, we here mark our calender's of the day of our death." He paused a moment allowing Larry to comprehend what was being said "Today my boy, is June 21st the day our dear pharaoh died all those years ago, by the hands of none other then his own brother Kahmunrah." Teddy exhaled softly before he continued "On each of our own Deathday's we experience our deaths all over again as though it's the first time. But unlike before when death swept us away from the pain, we experience it all night, until morning when we turn back." finished explaining Teddy, who's mind had traveled to the reminder of his own death day.

Larry stood there in silence comprehending all he had heard, how had he not known about Deathday's surely someone had to have had their deathday while he was there, was he just oblivious to it? "Is there anything that can be done to help?' he asked hoping the answer was yes.

"The pain of death lasts all night nothing can stop it till the day is done, what we usually do is keep each other company on those days, no matter how one died no one should go through it again alone." Sacajawea placed her hand into Teddy's clasping is gently remembering nights she helped him on his Deathday and how he was there for her on her deathday.

Larry nodded "Alright then I'll do that..." he began to walk off before he stopped and turned back to the couple on the horse. "Teddy can you..." but before he could finish the 26th president interrupted him

"Don't worry my boy, all will be taken care of. I'll be seeing you tomorrow night" Teddy tipped his hat as they departed on their way once more and Larry began back to Ahk already feeling awful for being gone this long.

Lying in his sarcophagus Ahkmenrah was going through the pain and experience of being slashed into pieces just as he had 4,000 years ago. It was the worst feeling he had ever felt in his live and death, for a fleeting moment he tried to ignore the pain when he saw Larry's concerned and worried face he attempted to smile but the pain was too much. Then he was gone leaving him alone, just as he had been for fifty-four years.

The memories haunted him every day, the fear that when night falls he would go to rise and leave his tomb but be locked in just like before and no one would let him out, that he would once again be forever trapped, and utterly alone.

He could hear them all, the old night guards talking as they passed the hall never daring to enter his room and free him no matter how hard and long he screamed. He would shake and scream hoping just hoping someone would let him out anyone at all.

Then there was something different the old voices of the night guards were replaced with one young voice, and soon the entire museum was truly alive. He could hear them walking around, doing their own thing, talking to one another.

He was angry with himself when he dared let his hopes rise that perhaps the new night guard would let him out. Nights past and nothing no one freed him, he even heard another say he would never get out.

Like before his hopes were crushed, but he screamed nonetheless he wouldn't give up. Just the slightest chance someone might take pity on him and let him go, was all he held onto.

Then it happened he heard the night guard and he was coming towards him, Ahkmenrah screamed. Screamed as loud as he could he wanted out, please he begged let this be the moment he'd be free.

When he heard the sound of the locks being removed he never felt so excited in all his life. As soon as the last lock was gone he pushed with all his strength forcing the lid of his sarcophagus to fly through the air and hit the wall.

He was free.

And there standing before him, the one who let him out of his afterlife... the new night guard, Larry Daley set him free.

He couldn't well aware explain it, but as soon as he looked upon Larry, something was different. The feeling only grew the longer they were together, on mini adventures or just hanging about in the museum.

Larry Daley was different and Ahkmenrah couldn't help but smile whenever he was near. Now he had wished more then ever he was with him now, just the split second he was and Ahkmenrah wanted to smile even though the pain hurt too much to do so.

His jaw clenched as he felt another sharp pain which over the years he distinguished as a stab wound.

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes out of pain, holding back a cry. As the night went went, it would feel worse it always did. It got to the point he would be choking on his own blood from all the wounds.

"Ahkmenrah?" The pharaoh opened his eyes once more and by his side once again was Larry. His face of concern was still there but so was a face of comfort. As though on queue upon seeing him Ahk had the instinct to smile at him like he always did, even if it hurt too much to actually do so.

Larry placed one had on Ahk's shoulder and the other on his hand, he could feel the cold sweats that covered the pharaoh's body. "It's okay, I'm here for you" the night guard stated.

Ahkmenrah attempted to open his mouth to protest, as night guard Larry had a job to do; but before he could get any words out he was interrupted.

"Don't worry, Teddy told me all about deathday just know that I'm here for you all night " whispered Larry affectionately. His eyes were gentle and while concern was still there, comfort and kindness was the expression he wore on his face so evidently. Ahk closed his eyes for a second gathering his strength before attempting to speak again.

"Larry..." he mumbled meekly "I'm fine. You have...a job..." he gasped sharply feeling the pain of another stab wound pierce through him. He still remembered the day his brother betrayed him, the pain of death seemed less then the pain of betrayal and heart break.

"Teddy has it all under control, tonight I'm here with you. You shouldn't have too experience this alone, I won't allow it" Ahkmenrah gently shook his head to the best of his ability.

"I've done this alone... for fifty-four years." he paused a moment exhaling "I'm used to it... at this point..." he finished gently. He didn't mean it as a martyr, but it was true he'd experienced his deathday alone in his sarcophagus for years.

Larry shook his shoulder gently catching the pharaoh's attention once more "Well, I'm here to end that streak" he responded kindly. Even though it hurt Ahkmenrah smiled, it was much weaker then his usually bright and vibrant smile that Larry loved so much, but he still smiled and Larry loved it nonetheless.

Ahk was at most times unable to speak other then a few words here and there, making conversation light with little responses from Ahkemenrah mostly leaving it up to Larry. The conversations were small topics, but it helped keep Ahk distracted...mostly. The feeling of being stabbed over and over again, the feeling gets worse with each stab, at this point he knew when and where each stab would appear; it was ingrained into his memory.

But this night was different and more special then Larry probably knew, Ahk would find himself forgetting the next wound which left him unexpected of the jolt of pain, but there's something worse and more painful when one is expecting the pain then when it's unexpected.

"I keep telling Erica that I have moved on and that I'm not still clinging to our marriage, but she doesn't believe me" said Larry mildly annoyed "Just this weekend when I went to pick up Nicky, she brought it up all over again, I honestly thought she was done." he shook his head.

Ahk eyed him closely before attempting a mumble "What was the...issue?" he breathed out lightly

"She said 'How do I know you moved on when you haven't dated anyone since the marriage' she just kept saying 'when was last you have an actual relationship with someone other then me' I... I don't know. I'm probably overreacting, so what if I haven't had a relationship since her. She was the once who decided to leave first no wonder she got remarried first." Larry exhaled sharply attempting to release all the negative energy. Then he turned down and looked at Ahkmenrah who was watching him intently and Larry couldn't help but notice his cheeks flush.

"I'm sorry..." he stumbled out "I'm rambling, you don't want to hear this" he went to stand up to calm his nerves, but his face seemed to be determined to remain flushed as the pharaoh made direct eye contact with the night guard, neither daring to break it.

Larry felt the heat from Ahk's hand grab his, it was comforting but it also felt different from the way Larry had been holding his. Though Larry was nervous to admit it, it felt the way that Erica would hold his hand back when they were in "love". But it also didn't feel the same, it felt more personal. Oh what was he doing, Ahkmenrah was a pharaoh, royalty he didn't feel the same way as Larry.

Hell. Larry wasn't sure what it was he was feeling, though he had to admit it would explain a lot about their relationship. Could he... could Larry Daley be in love with Ahkmenrah?

He looked at the pharaoh's gaze that held so tightly and Larry knew... He loved him.

Though weak Ahk held tight the best he could to Larry Daley's hand, listening to his conversation about Erica, well... it kept him attentive. Larry never did mention anyone romantically in all the time they knew each other and Ahkmenrah had to admit he always hoped he was the reason Larry never was with anyone else.

All the moments and time they spent together, hell back to when they first met. Larry was the first person to release him from his sarcophagus, he trusted him and they went on the journey to save his tablet. Maybe he was just overthinking everything, but Ahkmenrah knew he loved Larry Daley, he was worried that it wasn't both ways.

"Sometimes...love is hard to understand" rasped out Ahk still holding to Larry's gaze as well as his hand "Maybe, not all love..." he paused, maybe he shouldn't continue if he did the night guard was bound to understand his intentions. He could pretend to be in pain and escape the atmosphere he created, but as he looked at Larry he didn't think "Maybe, not all love...is conventional" he saw a flicker in Larry's eyes, he didn't know what it meant but it made Ahk's heart bound.

Larry was not sure what he was about to do, but he was going to do something. Not only did he fully realize he in fact did love Ahkmenrah, but that he felt the same about him! Larry's heart felt as though he was pounding out of his chest, he had to do something as a response, he was going to do something...

The pharaoh broke eye contact as he shut his eyes tight in pure pain, the night had been getting on and it was nearing it's end which meant the true, awful, agonizing pain was beginning. The final round of stab wounds impeded its way into his body "Slashed to pieces" just like on that night all those years ago. Ahkmenrah gasped out in pure agony breaking the ere about them, as the young Pharaoh coughed out and like every Deathday, he choked on his own blood.

It was the worse sound Larry had ever heard in his life, one second the two were exploring their hearts and the next the man he loved was gasping out and choking on his own blood. The sound of the blood stuck in his throat echoed throughout the chamber, both statues of Anubis looked over at their Pharaoh but they knew there was nothing to do but wait till morning.

Larry knelt down closer to Ahkmenrah and held his hand tightly "It's okay, we're almost to morning then this will all be over." comforted the night guard, he held tight to the pharaoh's hand holding it in both of his, he brought the hand to his face and kissed his knuckles gently "I'm here with you, okay? You're not in this alone, I'm right here" soothed Larry as he watched the scene before him.

Ahkmenrah was entirely loss to the pain, he heard Larry's words but there was no way he would respond, he couldn't smile back. His eyes would open and close with each other gasp for air as his lungs filled with blood. His hand squeezed tight to Larry's as it was the only thing he could do as memories of the night returned.

Kamunrah stood before him, knife in hand as he stabbed, slashed, and cut into his body. There was no mercy, no regret, nor sorrow as he stabbed him seventy-three times. Tears filled Ahkmenrah's eyes from the pain of death and from the pain of brotherly betrayal, his tears formed then now as Larry held his hand. He gasped out as tears fell down his cheeks. How desperately he tried to grasp air but every gasp and attempt he made lead only to the drowning in his lungs. The Anubis statues moved retaking their proper form as Ahk gasped out once more then all was still.

The sun had risen and all went back to sleep, Ahkmenrah's eyes had closed slowly as he turned back into a mummy right before Larry's own eyes just reminding him what happens every night as the sun rises. Larry closed up the sarcophagus, leaving the pharaoh to rest till night. The image of Ahkmenrah in such pain etched into his brain, the gasp for air lingered in his ears as he made his way towards the exit of the chamber. Larry looked back behind him at the now resting sarcophagus then left the chamber.

The museum was asleep as though the night before it wasn't full of vibrant and energetic life, soon people would be coming in starting their jobs and opening the museum to the public. The night guard walked throughout the museum making sure everything went well that night, that all were in place and ready in the morning.

Like Teddy said all was taken care of. Larry went to the locker and hung up his coat and flashlight he would be back again tonight, but he felt he couldn't wait. All he could think of was Ahkmenrah, the pharaoh had completely taken over his brain, but he needed to head home try to catch a couple of hours of sleep before his next shift.

The day went by what seemed much slower then the night did, even though he slept for several hours he still found himself waiting and it felt too long of a wait. He couldn't help himself Larry wanted to see Ahk, so he arrived a bit early for his shift.

Since there was still roughly an hour before he would come in Larry found himself wandering the halls and rooms of the museum, he knew them like the back of his hand at this point. He knew who was supposed to be where, just how many steps it took to get to the room over. These exhibits were his friends and seeing them in the morning hours when they were still and asleep he couldn't help but feel lonely.

Too anyone else they were just exhibits of the past, but to Larry they were his family and friends and how he wished he could see them not only at night, but that he could leave the museum and hang out with them, but he knew that wasn't possible.

"Aren't we early tonight" stated Dr. McPhee rolling on the balls of his feet, catching Larry's attention.

"Ya I bit, nothing else to do, thought I'd just look around" responded Larry gesturing towards Sacajawea's exhibit as she stood next to Louis and Clark.

"Don't you just 'look around' all night?" asked McPhee

"Yep" Larry nodded "Yes I do"

McPhee nodded slowly, looked about him at the exhibits then back to Larry. "Well, we're beginning to close up so feel free to get your shift started" he finished before leaving the room, as he himself was ready to go home for the night, the same way Larry felt he was going home for the night.

Larry went back to his locker grabbing his coat and flashlight, but instead of going to the front entrance of the museum he made his way straight to the tomb of Ahkmenrah, walked past the Anubis statues and stood near sarcophagus and there he waited.

It didn't feel like a particularly long wait, for it wasn't long before he heard creaking too his right. He turned his head to look at the owner of the noise and he watched as the Anubis statues woke from their sleep, one even yawning like that of a jackal before both turned their large heads and faced Larry; eyeing him closely. They knew he had been there even in sleep they guarding the pharaoh, they didn't attack the night guard anymore like how they used too, but they still kept an eye on him whenever he was near.

Larry had to admit he was glad that the Anubis were too large to leave the chamber otherwise he knew they would follow Ahk around the entire museum and Larry wouldn't dare getting as close as he tended to with the Pharaoh with the two watching him at all times.

His thoughts were soon interrupted as he heard another creak, one of gold sliding against gold. Larry quickly turned his attention away from the statues and towards the sarcophagus instead, he went to go and help open it up, but within seconds sitting straight up from the resting place was Ahkmenrah in all his glory and beauty. Larry had to admit, Ahkmenrah was possibly the most beautiful man in the world and the world didn't even know that.

Ahk looked over at Larry already knowing or expecting the night guard to be there, Larry didn't know which. Rising from his sarcophagus Ahkmenrah approached Larry just as he did every night not a sign showing what he had been through the previous night.

"If I hadn't seen it myself last night I wouldn't have known just what it was you had gone through" Larry laughed lightly as Ahk approached him with his signature smile Larry was so fond of.

"Thank you" stated Ahk locking eyes with Larry just as they had done last night "I've always had those nights alone, I'm very thankful that you were there. You have no idea what it meant to me" neither broke eye contact, both reading each other. They both shared the fear that perhaps all they imaged last night was false and they didn't truly see each other the way they hoped.

"You should have told me sooner, I would have been by your side in seconds" both hearts were pounding within their chests, hands clammed from nerves as they waited on who would be the first to make a move towards what they both wanted.

"I didn't know if you wanted to be by my side" confessed Ahk

Larry laughed lightly as a broad smile crossed his face "Your side is the only one I want to be by" he confessed.

Ahkmenrah stepped forward much closer now, closer then they had ever been before they were nearly touching. Touching chests, noses, lips...

"And I by yours" stated Ahk as the two gently crossed the distance and kissed lightly, it was sweet and mildly hesitant as both were nervous, but when they pulled back they were both smiling fools. "I've waited for this moment for quite awhile" chuckled Ahk as he cupped a hand on Larry's cheek.

Larry leaned into his hand as their foreheads touched and pressed together, both nearing to kiss once again.

"Gigantor!" Larry closed his eyes lightly then looked down at the origin of the voice, Jed was down below on the ground next to Octavius. "That was the most peck of a kiss I've ever seen!" Larry's cheeks grew flushed, as Ahkmenrah laughed lightly.

"You can do better Larry" encouraged Octavius

"Ya, you can! The Pharaoh deserves better!" shouted out Jed giving Ahk a thumbs up "Here Gigantor like this!" Jed grabbed hold of Octavius giving him a deep and passionate kiss before pulling away and looked back up at Larry "See!?" he shouted up.

"Yes Larry, like that" teased Ahkmenrah with a smile that spread across his whole face.

"Okay I think I get it, I'll do better." responded Larry sarcastically as Ahk grabbed his cheek once more and kissed him, deeper and more passionately then they did the first time and when they pulled apart both were grinning, mildly short of breath.

"Much better" breathed out Ahkmenrah smiling fondly at Larry still cupping his face in his hand.

As I’ve said recently I’ve found myself back into this ship and they will not leave my mind so I had to write this fic, especially after I found the headcanon about everyone reliving their deaths every year. it just came together so well.

#Larry x Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x larry #larry daley #natm ahkmenrah #natm 3 #natm #oneshot #one shot #one-shot #wattpad #fluff #tablet guardians #fanfic #fanfiction #ahkmenrah #bxb

238 notes · View notes

dragon2d · 2 years ago

Text

Nighttime Support

Pairing: Victor Zsasz x Roman Sionis (can be read as romantic or platonic)

This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @ronaldrx since it was his stories that motivated me to write. Please check him out, he is an incredible writer and artist.

Summary: Roman has a stressful day and does not know how to ask for help but he tries anyway and Victor does his best to comfort him

TW for swearing and description of a panic attack (Idk if i should tw this so just in case)

Victor released a deep breath as he stepped into his dingy, rat-infested, cheap apartment. What a day this had been.

He has been working for Roman for roughly two years and the man still drove him insane. He and Roman are not partners by any meaning of the word. Sure they fooled around a couple of times and shared a few pillow talk conversations, but Roman always acted as if nothing happened so Victor did the same. But even so, Zsasz could not stand it when Roman would not allow Victor to help him.

As he went to his bedroom window to decompress and have a few smokes, Victor recounted the events of his day.

—Flashback—

The morning started the way it always did: Victor woke Roman up and collected Roman’s plans and appointments for the day from other employees while he waited for Roman to emerge from his room. During breakfast, they planned how the day would go, making small talk between topics. Then they were off to meetings for the Black Mask Club, collecting money and killing whatever person pissed off Roman most recently. Throughout all of this, Roman seemed to be growing more and more agitated but he did not say or do anything that would prompt Zsasz to worry about the other man.

Roughly around 6 PM, the men finally had a break so they returned to Roman's apartment to decompress. Roman curled up on a sofa in the room that they considered their “living room” and began staring off into outer space instead of following his usual habit of scrolling through trending news articles.

After a solid 15 minutes of Roman sitting in silence passed, Victor grew antsy, began playing with his switchblade, and decided to check in with him.

“Hey Boss, is there anything you need me to take care of?”

That seemed to bring Roman back into reality.

“Fuck, what?”, He did not hear what Victor asked, he just knew that he was being spoken to. He also knew that if Victor did not stop playing with his knife, he would lose it– the noise was driving him up a wall.

Victor repeated his question but this time his words seemed to blend together and Roman still could not decipher what he was being asked.

“For fuck’s sake, speak up!”

Victor sighed, “Do you need me to take care of anything?”, he asked for the third time, making sure to speak loudly and clearly enough for his boss to understand.

Okay, screw the noise the switchblade was making. Because now Victor’s voice was stabbing into Roman’s skull.

“I don’t KNOW, okay?!”, Roman snapped, tucking his head into his knees. Everything was too loud, too bright, too overwhelming. His head was pounding, thousands of thoughts ricocheting off of each other and flying around his brain. He couldn't focus on anything and he could feel his heart about to jump out of his chest from how intensely it was beating.

Fortunately, Victor got the hint and shut up. He decided to give Roman some space so he went to the kitchen to get a drink and to try to figure out what was going on with Roman.

But unfortunately, one of Roman’s idiotic employees decided to talk to Roman at this very moment.

“Hey Boss, I was just supposed to let you know that the booze shipment-” but he was cut off as Roman determined that he could not hear anymore, pulled out his pistol, and shot the guy in his face.

“CAN EVERYTHING JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yelled, his whole body shaking as his vision began to blur, tears falling before Roman even noticed he was crying.

Victor rushed into the living room but Roman shoved past him, briskly walking into his bedroom. Victor followed him, but the door slammed into his face before he could get into the room.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to Roman’s muffled ranting and destruction of his things, there was finally silence. Victor then heard footsteps approaching the door and watched as it opened to a clearly distressed Roman. The men stared at each other in silence for some time before Victor decided to speak.

“What can I do to help Boss?” He kept his voice soft and gentle to not scare away the other man.

“There’s nothing you can do. Just go home, it’s getting late.”

—Present—

Finishing his third cigarette, Victor decided that it was time to go to bed. He should be well-rested to deal with whatever may happen with Roman tomorrow.

As he was drifting off into sleep, he heard his door open. Now, Victor never locked his door because anyone who walked into a lion's den was practically asking to be killed. But tonight Zsasz was not in the mood so he just continued to try to sleep, reaching for the knife under his pillow just in case. He wasn't that worried about getting robbed, his most valuable things in the apartment were all kept on his person, and the intruder could take anything else.

Sadly, this intruder was stupider than Victor imagined because they went straight for his bedroom door.

“Zsasz?”

Now that was a shocker, this was no idiotic intruder.

“Boss? What are you doing here?”

“I- I just needed to be with someone” Roman admitted. He felt that he would regret what he said next, “I feel as though I can trust you and you can understand me.”

Victor sat up in his bed and tried to stay calm, so he would not scare off his already sensitive boss. He wanted to ask Roman so many things but the one he chose to verbalize was, “If you trust me and think I get you, then why don't you let me get close to you or help you?”

Roman sighed, he was not planning on getting into a deep conversation about his feelings but even so, he did not want to hurt Zsasz in any way.

“It’s just hard for me to do, kay? I have not had a person who I could confide in for so long now that I am just used to keeping to myself. Trusting people is very difficult for me and I have been scared of opening up to someone because what if they leave me or don't want to be near me afterward? And I'm sorry that I didn't talk to you but the truth is, I don't know what is happening with me sometimes so how can I ask for help when I don't even understand the situation?!”

Victor could see that Roman was beginning to hyperventilate again so he simply got up from his bed, and wrapped his arms tightly around his Boss.

“I'm sorry it's just-”

“Shhh, it's okay,” Victor reassured him, “I’m here for you and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, you are safe. You do not have to tell me anything tonight, just let me take care of you and we will talk in the morning, okay”

Roman nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths before pulling away from Victor and staring at him.

“How did I get so lucky with you, you treat me so well. I don't deserve you”

Zsasz simply looked down at the ground as his face heated up, he wasn't the best when dealing with compliments.

Roman yawned, oblivious to the fact that he made Victor blush at his praise. “Well, I'm tired. Let's go to bed”

“You want to sleep here? Even I can admit it's gross”

“It's for one night, I'll survive. You know, Zsasz, you should move in with me. There's plenty of room and I think each other's company would be good for us.”

“Okay Boss, but let's talk about it more in the morning. You need your beauty rest.”

And so the two climbed into the twin-sized bed. Roman curled himself into a ball, pressing his face into Victor's chest and the other man embraced him and molded his body around Roman’s.

“Goodnight, Roman”

“Goodnight, Victor”

“I hope you are updated on your rabies shots”

With the small joke and the quiet chuckles that followed, the pair drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

35 notes · View notes

earthh2jadee · 4 years ago

Text

if you kissed me - Rodrick Heffley | 1.9k

Yeah yeah i know i haven't written since a million years ago. and yeah yeah i know this is my first real fanfiction i posted on tumblr. fair warning, i'm not the best writer, i honestly just do this for fun and i'm totally up to criticism because i do want to make my writing better. if this is literally inaccurate, im sorry its been like 5 years since i've read the books. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest that I created in the span of a few hours.

paring: rodrick x reader genre: fluff. lots of fluff

Credits to the maker of the picture! 15 Days till the Contest | 9:42 PM, Saturday

Plick, plick, plick

My speakers were blasting so loud I almost didn’t hear the sound of pebbles hitting my window.

Plick, plick, plick

I rubbed my eyes and slammed my laptop shut, walking toward my bedroom window. Peering down, I saw a figure a few yards down from my second-story bedroom, looking back up at me. Dark brown, messy hair that stuck up around his face. A red and black flannel, black ripped jeans, and, (of course) a tee-shirt with “Loded Diper” clumsily written on it. A grin spread on his face as he saw my face come into his view, causing me to blush. Rodrick Heffley, Crossland High bad boy, and my boyfriend.

I unlocked the latch to my window and stuck my head out, taking in the cool air and letting the neighbors enjoy the music I was playing (they never did). I looked down.

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled

“Evening, Heffley.”

“I need to tell you something!”

“What’s so important that you have to scratch my window instead of using the power of modern technology to call me?”

His mouth opened to give me a response, but nothing came out. I smirked, “Come on up.”

I opened the window wider as he climbed the trellis that lined the back of my house. I backed up to my door and locked it. Precautions, my parents liked Rodrick but they definitely wouldn’t approve of him in my room at night. I looked back and I saw him, every feature of him illuminated by the light of my room. His cheeky smile and chocolate brown eyes. He slowly closed the window and walked toward me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I still got butterflies whenever he touched me.

“Hey, Spiderman. What did ya climb in here to tell me?” I asked

“I got Loded Diper into a contest.”

My eyes widened, Loded Diper, my boyfriend’s rock band, wasn’t exactly known for being the best. It was mostly known for his mom’s insane dance moves during the Plainview Talent Show. But of course, i'll never say that in front of his face.

“You did?! That’s awesome Rodrick!”

“Yeah! It's a battle of the bands contest, we’re going against two other bands. I really think this is gonna be our big break!” His eyes sparkled in excitement.

His happiness was contagious, he was like a goddamn puppy. I pulled him into my arms. “I’m proud of you Rod.” I muttered and smiled into his collarbone. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair and twirl my locks around his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the hug. “I’m having practice tomorrow with the band, you wanna come?”

“Sure. I go to every practice anyway, why miss out on this one?” I shrugged.

He chuckled and looked at me. Really looked at me. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for him. It never seemed like it, but he paid attention. We’ve only been dating for 4 months, but he knew me like no one else did, and I knew that in the way he looked at me. I felt his hand cup my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek in small circles. I looked up at him, noticing how tall he was, how close he was. Was I the one who leaned in? Was he the one who leaned in? Did we just do it subconsciously? Did he want this? Was he ready? Was I ready?

The ringing of Rodrick’s phone filled the room. The daze we were trapped in was gone and we separated, our faces red. Rodrick picked up the phone, it was his mom.

“Yeah, mom? Mom...I’m in the middle of something. I’ll do laundry later, ok? Now? C’mon… Alright, fine. Bye.” He hung up. “Sorry, I gotta blast.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked him as he started toward my window.

He looked back at me and planted a kiss on my forehead, the farthest we’ve ever gone with physical touch as a couple.

“Tomorrow”

~~✰✰✰~~

14 Days till the Contest | 1:22 PM, Saturday afternoon

“Should we take it from the top?”

Practice wasn’t going so well. I could feel the nervousness, the tension. Drums were slightly off beat, the guitarist’s fingers would fly to the wrong places on the fretboard, lyrics would go all over the place. The contest was two weeks away, and Loded Diper was already feeling the anxiousness. I sat on the floor of the garage, on top of a picnic blanket I found. To Rodrick’s dismay, his mom forced him to let Greg watch band practice, as a form of “brother-to-brother bonding time.” Greg sat next to me, mockingly covering his ears.

“Oh thank god, it's done.” Greg said with an immense amount of sarcasm and uncovering his ears.

Rodrick threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head, “Shut up.”

“Both of you, be nice.” I laughed. “I think you guys should take a break for a while, maybe shake off the nerves.”

“Good idea Y/N, 20 minute break everyone!” The lead singer said. Everyone spread out, grabbing a piece of pizza ordered earlier and laying down. Greg ran out of the garage, yelling, “I’m free!”

Rodrick stood up and began gulping down a bottle of water. He wore a black tanktop and black ripped jeans, sweat dripping down his forehead. I ran up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He turned and faced me, running his hands through my hair, lost in thought.

“You ok, Rod?” I asked him.

He sighed, “nerves”

I leaned my head on his chest, “You’re gonna do great, you’ve done so many gigs in the past. Think of this as one of those!”

He smiled at me, “You know what would make me feel a lot less nervous?”

“Oh god. What?”

A really common thing Rodrick did was try to bargain a kiss on the lips from me. It's been an ongoing joke, a meaningless bit he did all the time. I’ll do my homework if you kissed me on the lips. I’ll smile in the picture if you kissed me on the lips. It still hasn’t worked.

“I might be less nervous if you kissed me on the lips.” He whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, “If that’s what it takes then I think you’ll lose the competition.”

He let go of me and laughed, my favorite laugh. “Worth a try.” He shrugged, going off to join his bandmates and the pizza. But as I watched him smile and laugh with his friends, I lost myself. I thought about the previous night. The way we fit into each other, the closeness, the fact that was so close that I could see my reflection in his eyes.

Maybe I should just say yes.

~~✰✰✰~~

The Day of the Contest

For the past 2 weeks, Rodrick has given me the “kiss-bargain” joke 9 times. Every time, I deflected it with sarcastic remarks, and every time I regretted not agreeing.

I sat on the front steps of my porch, waiting for Rodrick to pick me up. I regretted the jean shorts and plain black tee-shirt I had on, as a cold breeze brushed my skin. I pulled my black leather jacket on, which I painted “Loded Diper” on the back in white paint. Then, I heard it. The echo of heavy metal turned to full blast, and… the faint sound of something big getting knocked over. Oh god, they’re here. The white van with “Loded Diper” written in huge words screeched to a halt in front of my house.

The window rolled down, revealing my boyfriend and his excited grin. “Get in.”

~~✰✰✰~~

30 minutes till Loded Diper preforms

It felt surreal to be backstage, and really exciting. Energy was flowing through the room, as all the other bands talked and played. The rest of the band members seemed excited, full of adrenaline. Except for Rodrick, he’s been nervous ever since soundcheck. His leg was bouncing,he twirled his drumsticks around, drumming them on random objects, and his eyes stared into nothing.

“Rodrick, you want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the ground, his voice seemed far away.

I lifted a liquid eyeliner pen I had in my pocket, “Eyeliner. I just did mine, we can match!”

He lifted his head and noticed me. I had my eyeliner smudged, just like he always does during a gig. He grinned, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”

I’ve done his eyeliner many times in the past, and I loved doing it because I had to be as close to him as possible. So I hopped onto his lap, pressing myself close to him, trying to comfort him with my warmth.

“Close your eyes.” I ordered.

As I applied his eyeliner, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was heavy, and fast. I’m pretty sure I would still hear it if I wasn’t as close to him as I was, even though the loud music blasting through the theatre.

“Done”

He opened his eyes, and butterflies flooded my stomach. We were close. Very close. Should I do it? Should I lean in?

Rodrick probably sensed my flustered-ness. He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

I rolled my eyes, blushing hard. “Shut up.” I said, playfully punching him.

~~✰✰✰~~

“5 Minutes until Loded Diper performs!” A man exclaimed to us.

Rodrick was as nervous as ever. We’ve been standing on the left wing of the stage, watching the other bands play. It felt like a bunch of Loded Diper copy-pastes. A bunch of high schoolers, weird names, very aggressive playing. But they were still pretty good. Rodrick was biting the nails of one of his hands and tapping his other hand on the wall behind him. I looked up at him and held his hand, stopping it from fidgeting. He smiled nervously.

Now or never Y/N…

“Hey, you said that if I kiss you, you won’t be as nervous. Right?”

He looked at me, wide eyed. He seemed to be trying to compute what I said.

I stood on tiptoe and put his face in my hands. It was that night all over again. Every detail of his face, of him was in full view. His eyes, his eyeliner, his scent, his lips. I leaned in.

His lips were soft against mine, but they were tense, flustered. I was terrified, It was the wrong place, the wrong time. Until I felt one hand in my hair, another on my waist, pulling me closer.

How long was the kiss? A few seconds? It felt like minutes, hours. Sparked ignited. Butterflies flew in my stomach. His scent was the only thing I smelled, his warmth was the only thing I felt. The music faded away. Everything faded away. It was just him and I. Until we broke apart, taking in deep breaths of each other. We wanted more, but Loded Diper was playing in a few seconds.

“Hey, Rodrick.”

“Yeah?”

“If you win I’ll kiss you again”

We both knew I would kiss him regardless.

I didn't edit this because editing is for wimps (just kidding be responsible and edit your work)

please like and reblog because it gives me serotonin and i need that

#rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #fanfiction #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk #devon bostick

801 notes · View notes

xxsmokeyy · 4 years ago

Text

Levi x Reader (F) It’s The Tea

genre: fluff, canon divergence — coffee shop setting

summary: a misplaced table and a pair of hands that had a knack for good tea; you wonder what brought Humanity’s Strongest to your shop.

wc: 6,262

part II

“I’ll have one flat white,” a customer says as she picks money from her coin purse. You give her a smile after receiving her payment, the exact amount saving you the task of calculating change.

“Coming right up.” And you make your way to the coffee beans to make the blend she ordered. She watches in patience as you skillfully maneuver around the counter, getting everything done along the process. You incline the porcelain a little to make for the finishing art, steamed milk piercing through the coffee and creating a signature shape. In no time, you hand her the drink on top of a saucer.

She silently nods as brief thanks, and as soon as she turns her back to you, you dart your eyes on a table of one by the far right windowpane. You carefully spectate her and what direction she’s going. She’s going to the table!

The make-do suspense keeps you on your toes as you look at her intently, breath slightly hitching, waiting for her to sit on the lone chair. The woman navigates across the room, heading straight for your wishful desires. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, witnessing the life-changing moment unravel before your eyes. No way. She really is.

The cup of coffee on her left hand, she uses her right to move the chair to take a seat. But just when she’s about to pull it back, someone calls her from another table, waving at her excitedly.

You stand upright and alert while your scrutinizing gaze follow her movements. She looks at where the voice is coming from, and almost immediately, her face brightens upon seeing who. Her right hand lets go of the wooden furniture and proceeds to where the caller sits. You look at her destination and find three people on a table of four. It doesn’t take long before she takes the free seat and starts chatting with them.

Your body slumps back with a disappointed sigh. Looks like no one’s sitting there yet again.

It’s the closest call you’ve ever had after years of this shop’s existence. Why no one chooses to sit there is beyond you. Either your customers are not alone, or they are, but only to take out their orders. Actually, even if they’re alone, they’d take the table for two instead. Do they not want to look lonely that bad? You groan in annoyance.

The table consists of a small, circular table and a single chair by the window. In your mightiest opinion, it’s the perfect place to just sit down, enjoy a cup of hot coffee, and read a book. But nobody’s ever done that through the passing years, and you can only witness the table being neglected by people.

It irks you a little. Could there have been another way to maximize the space that stemmed from unproportional construction? Maybe it really is time to remove those. Maybe it’s not really a big deal.

You’ve been contemplating too many times replacing it with a plant vase or a decorative ornament to take up the space since it’s of no use anyway. But something just tells you you shouldn’t. Besides, just thinking thinking about feels costly.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’ve opened the store again, serving customers after customers. This time, you never gave the table another glance. Surprisingly enough, you spent the whole night debating with yourself on what decoration you should fill the space with. A nice bookshelf would’ve been good, but you decided to go with a monstera plant to make use of the window right by it. Not until your day off, though, which is still on Sunday.

Having consecutively served around six customers and cleaned used tables, you sit and take a breather, resting your eyes by reading a book to let a couple minutes go by.

You slowly get sucked into the story, the marvelous art of prose bringing you into the plot’s little universe. The way the writer used the most fitting descriptive words possible astounds you, making a smile of enjoyment involuntarily creep up your lips. Somehow, you think writing is similar to making coffee, mixing different elements to create the perfect blend, the sole goal of making an exquisite taste that will leave people aching for more? Oh, and they both smell good, books and coffee. A chuckle leaves your lips.

Just when you’re deep in thought, things starting to stir up in the narration, someone speaks in front of you.

“One black tea,” a stern voice curtly orders, interrupting your peace. Harshly brought back to reality, you rise to your feet to resume to work. First tea of the day, huh?

Sure, your shop is known for its good coffee, but your tea can put up for a competition, too. It’s just that these days, coffee is more on the popular side, since tea can be made in almost any household now.

You close your book to attend to the customer, but not without leaving a bookmark on the current page. When you look at him, you almost freeze in your tracks. Well if it isn’t Humanity’s Strongest himself!

A pair of dazing stale eyes bore into your own with an unreadable expression and you compose yourself. Crap, you must have been caught giggling to yourself. You feel heat speedily cover your cheeks, turning you to a blushing mess. How shameful.

“Pardon me,” you excuse, clearing your throat before telling him the price. He wordlessly fishes for his wallet and pays. He does find you a bit weird, laughing at nothing, but pays it no more mind. He’s supposed to be on leisure, not meddling with some brat’s uncanny actions.

As you turn your back to make his beverage, you squint your eyes in loss of face. It really is the Captain Levi, and you probably looked like a creep in his eyes. Now what will become of your shop’s repute?

You shove the thought to the back of your head and start working. The ravenhead watches back as you work your hands into making a, hopefully, good blend. Your heart is beating wildly inside your chest like it’s about to jump off your rib cage, but you try to ignore it. The thought of a widely known persona such as him inside your very shop is crazy. To what do you even owe this pleasure?

Oh well, you’ll just pour your heart into making his tea, that way you might erase his ridiculous impression of you in his head. Hey! What’s so bad about giggling while reading? your subconscious tries to defend while you strain the boiled tea leaves into a clean china. The earthly smell hits your nose, making you want one, too.

You smile as you hand over the teacup. “Thank you for your service,” you add, even going as far as bowing. The moment the phrase escapes your lips, you regret it right away. Chills shoot up your spine. It sounds so awkward and unnecessary, but should you just treat the Captain like any other people knowing he’s done so much for your country?

Your cheeks flush into a faint, pink color. Thankfully, you’re slightly angled downwards, he might not see. Levi only eyes you for a second before nodding and taking the cup of tea in his hands, his calloused fingers grazing your hands fleetingly.

When you hear his footsteps fade, you rise and rub a palm against your face. You hesitantly take a glance toward the Captain, and shock takes over your whole system. To be totally honest, you never thought you’d see the day someone would sit on that table.

He looks perfectly placed on the table, like it’s reserved a long time just for him. He’s in civillian clothes, probably to not attract a lot of people. The sunlight gives his face a pretty sheen, the air from the window blowing lightly on his dark fringes. Your heart continues to skip several beats for no clear reason. Maybe that is the reason why your instincts keep telling you to not replace it.

Meanwhile, Levi sips on the freshly brewed tea, the strong flavor staining on his tongue just right. As he occupies his mind somehwere else, the taste hits better. Everything feels evenly distributed, the base smooth and pleasant, the amount of water not brimming. The temperature isn’t so bad as well.

Then and there, he guesses you source fine leaves from the innermost walls, which is a luxury at this point, not to mention your non-overpriced charge.

Not bad, he thinks.

You’re dumbstruck as you sit back in awe. You weren’t able to decipher what he’s thinking, but you know for sure he doesn’t hate it from seeing that he emptied the whole thing and left a generous tip.

You grab your tray and proceed to cleaning up the table he previously seated on, the whole decision of shopping for a plant on Sunday going down the drain.

—

It’s been a whole month since the Captain’s visit, and you think of the once in a lifetime moment often, and at times randomly. You sure as heck won’t be removing the table now that something has happened.

“Thank you,” you say as you hand the cup of coffee, serving the last one for the queue. It’s a late, cloudy afternoon, looking like it’s about to shower, and the shop is pretty dull. Well, that only means you can read more.

“Is this the shop they say sells well?” you hear someone from the ordering area. “Yeah, you go ahead,” they converse. You’re making coffee for yourself at the moment and you can’t peer to look at whose voice it is.

“What? You do it!”

“Just go! We don’t have time!”

“What the fuck? You’re the one holding the knife, aren’t you?!” a man shouts in a whisper. You can’t hear crystal clear due to being far into the counter, although you know they must be disturbing the atmosphere.

Vexed by their rowdiness, you turn around and stop making the blend. You walk to the front of the counter, “Excuse me, please lower your—”

“Give me all your money, lady. Let’s transact in peace so nobody gets hurt,” the man grabs your collar, knife pointed straight into your neck. Another man of his companion moves to the side to cover their actions. You don’t feel the sharp edge prick your skin due to intense panic.

You look around frantically, worried if there are other people harmed. To your relief, they seem to not notice anything, if you can even call that relieving. Now there must be no saving you.

“It’s alright, we won’t bring someone else into this, just do what we ask,” the other guy says, wide, haunting eyes looking straight into you. You feel cold sweat drip from your forehead.

“Now hand us what you got.”

On the other hand, Levi finishes with his errands around the capital and stumbles within your shop’s vicinity. Walking mindlessly, he checks the skies to tell the time, but sees the dark clouds instead. It seems it’s about to pour.

He’s already in front of your shop, but the threatening rain will be bigger trouble, he might get stranded if he stops by. Plus, he probably didn’t bring enough money, so he’s got no choice but head back now.

Just when he’s about to leave, his peripheral vision miraculously catches sight of your horrified expression through the window, putting him to an abrupt halt. He turns to see better, and finds two men roughing you up while trying to hide the commotion.

He clicks his tongue and spins to turn away. It’s not his business anymore, it’s for the Military Police to deal with. They might be loan sharks for all he knows, and you’d be held entirely accountable for that.

Unable to take the view of the knife pointed to your neck out of his head, he sighs defeatedly and eventually discovers himself inside the store, else it’d slowly eat at his conscience.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” he questions with a firm voice, turning heads his way.

“It’s Captain Levi from the Survey Corps!”

“What a lucky day!”

People stir up upon seeing the Captain to which he only ignores, full attention on you and the two criminals.

The robber without a weapon quickly turns around to check, shaking in fear. As he makes terrifying eye contact with the Captain, he makes haste for the door in desperate hopes of escaping, but to no avail. Levi grabs the back of the poor guy’s head and slams it against an empty table, putting him to deep sleep. Then turning to your armed assaulter, Levi closes in with big steps and takes the knife down before swinging the side of his hand, striking a nerve on the man’s neck to knock him out.

Levi perceives they’re complete amateurs and wonders why they even steal. Atleast one of them tried to run, he thinks as he looks down on the passed out crooks.

You’re not exactly sure if your heart calmed down or speeded up even more—maybe both, but you feel safe and more at ease.

Tying the last knot, he stands from his kneeled form and dusts his hands off to rid himself of the filth.

You only watch silently, mind clouded in confusion of what to do. Captain Levi came just in time and saved you and your shop of possible bankruptcy. Say, it could have been the worst timing considering you haven’t cleared your cash box for weeks now. You’re reminded of how much you owe the Captain.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be out cold for a while, just call the MP’s on them,” Levi assures before taking a glance at you and fails to understand your expression, your face looks like it’s leaking shit in his opinion.

You look at the two robbers dozing off tied together by the help of Levi and your spare rope before giving your savior another bow. “Thank you so much!” you exclaim and raise your head to meet his fierce gaze.

“And sorry for the trouble, people around here can get belligerent, especially to us business owners,” you add.

He observes you from head to toe, eyes particularly lingering on your neck, and you blush in embarrassment, feeling his hot stare.

“Is there—?”

He takes something from his pocket and offers you a handkerchief which you cluelessly accept. You later on realize what it’s for, finally feeling a sting on your neck. You wipe the bleeding area and see trails of crimson on your apron as well.

With no reason to stay any longer, Levi steers to leave, but is just in time to witness the rain pour down heavily, big droplets washing against the windows. He sighs, it’s just as he guessed.

You, on contrast, get an idea to show your gratitude, feeling a physical candle light up in your brain. “Captain Levi, please stay and let the rain pass while I brew you some coffee,” you negotiate with strong willed eyes, fixed on returning him a favor. It’s the least you could do from within your limited skills, and you’d like it if he’d accept. Actually, you won’t accept if he rejects, fully wanting to pay him back atleast a tad.

He looks back at you, slightly surprised. You seem like a more persistent person now rather than an easily flustered mess. Could he be so insensitive as to decline your generous offer after seeing your firm resolve? But more importantly, coffee? Could he be so thick-skinned as to ask for something else other than that?

When he stays quiet, you decide to go ahead and make him a drink from one of your premium coffee beans, but you’re put to a stop as he speaks.

“I’d prefer tea.”

Oh, right. He did ask for black tea a month back, didn’t he? You give him a smile and a thumbs up of approval before turning your back to make his tea.

Levi massages his temples and takes a seat, eyeing the immobilized crooks and the outside, thinking what he got himself into. It won’t be so bad to stay for a while and let the rain ease down, right?

You wait for the water to boil before dropping a bunch of mint leaves, then waiting for it to simmer. You prepare a porcelain cup and saucer and pour in the hot liquid, adding honey for a natural sweetener. You mix in a couple droplets of lemon to balance the flavor and you’re good to go.

You set the tea on his chosen table of two, giving the free seat a momentary glimpse. You wonder how it would feel like to have a proper conversation with Captain Levi, only to quickly dismiss the thought of joining him as you hear someone call you from the counter. Thankfully, people are back to minding their business and don’t bother the Captain anymore. You excuse yourself and return to work, still a couple hours away from closing time.

Levi sits back and enjoys the tea you made, soon learning it’s a fresh peppermint tea. Though it’s only the second time he’s having your brew, he doesn’t know why he already has high expectations. The choice of blend is perfect for a rainy day, and it’s exactly what he would have made when he returned back to the headquarters. You don’t really look like someone who prefers tea, but he’s impressed nevertheless.

He sips on the cup, letting the weather pass and the taste line his tongue. A variety of things occupy his mind involuntarily and before he knows it, the rain has calmed down into a shower.

He stands to leave but suddenly notices an umbrella left on his table. When did that get there? He takes a glimpse at you and finds you looking back at him with curious, alert eyes like that of a cat, immediately averting your gaze and resuming to pick up the dirtied tableware onto your tray.

Levi confirms it’s from you, and it’s another one of your acts of gratitude. He’s left with no choice and grabs it, wraps his slender fingers around the handle, and takes his leave.

Satisfied, you sigh in relief as you watch his back drift into the darkness. You look at the handkerchief in the pocket of your apron, smiling. Despite rumors of him being an unrelenting leader and a ruthless thug that stretched way back, the Captain is a kind man, isn’t he? If there really is such thing as coincidence, you’d like to consider yourself lucky for having experienced it.

—

About two more weeks pass when Levi finds himself hooked into the sweet aroma of the tea you make, the ambience of your shop’s environment, and something else he can’t put a name on. In actuality, he may or may not be using your umbrella as an excuse to go to your store right now.

He takes a glance at his hand holding the same umbrella. He briefly questions himself what he’s doing but pushes the thought aside with the use of his well thought of excuse. True enough, he can’t just go around using other people’s possession, can he?

He begins to sense the growing familiarity of your shop as he closes in. The choice of location being just at the mouth of the city, the distinct line between rural and urban is visibly emphasized.

As Levi enters through the saloon door, his eyes almost immediately find your form, leisurely reading while leaning on the counter, back turned against the entrance, your hair up in a braided bun which he finds neat. He clicks his tongue as he approaches to order.

“It’s easier to mug you that way,” he says and you jolt in surprise. Recognizing the stone cold voice, you spin to see the Captain in front of you, inside your very shop once again. This is no coincidence anymore!

“Captain Levi!” you greet with a beam, utterly delighted to see him. “Pleasant afternoon, what can I get you?” you ask and look him straight in the face. He’s in casual clothes, so you guess it’s another one of his day off’s. His sombre eyes of a unique bluish grey color take on your gaze fiercely. It’s true that the eyes convey one’s entire personality, as you feel his menace even though he doesn’t intend to display it.

“Black tea,” he says without a hitch, giving you the exact amount of money, and you proceed to your working space. Boiling of water, straining of tea leaves, pouring it into clean china; as you hand it to him, they start to resemble a routine.

He goes ahead and takes the corner table, and you couldn’t be any happier, thinking he seems to like the spot, choosing it among every other free seats. Levi takes a sip, and enjoys it with no wonder. You didn’t fail to make an exquisite blend.

A couple moments later, he’s still there. While everyone else chitchats with their company, he sits in silence with his beverage, ocassionally looking at the sky freely laid out by the window. He’s never really one to catch up with the bulletin and read daily papers, he’d prefer books for that matter.

As you wipe with a rag the empty tabletop just beside him, you see him looking at the window, cup of tea in hand. He, however, feels your stare, and wordlessly slides an umbrella on the table without batting you an eye. You recognize it as yours and take a step towards him.

“You better not have arrived home drenched that night,” he says. It’s only until he returned to the headquarters that he had realized you must have given him your only umbrella.

A chuckle leaves your mouth, aren’t you concerned. “I might have.” He clicks his tongue.

You grab it in your hands and follow his gaze, soon looking vacantly at the view as well. “You can see the skies from there, right?” you ask, earning a low hum in response.

“I wonder how far they stretch from outside on… Some say they’re boundless,” the words unconsciously slip from your mouth as you watch the clouds move. Something about relatively slow afternoons just hypnotize you to no end.

Levi shifts his gaze to your figure upon hearing a frame of your mind, finding a glimmer of ambition in the mesmerizing pools of your eyes. He can hear your train of thoughts out loud, while you wonder if you could ever get to experience the outside world. He remembers a couple friends thinking the same thing way back, and he realizes, it’s people like you that he hates to see drift away, one of those whom he feels he has to protect, though it’s not like you know each other to great extent.

He brings his cup to his lips and frankly speaks, “It’s not pretty out there.”

His words interrupt you from your daze, making you look at him. You notice he grips the teacup oddly, holding it around the mouth instead of its handle. You heave out a shallow sigh. “Figured you’d say that,” you say with a sad smile. It’s undeniable, coming from him.

You fish something from the pocket of your apron and leave it on his table, then making your way back to the counter. A seemingly little exchange of borrowed objects. He eyes his cleaned dry handkerchief and leaves a comment before you can stray farther, “It does seem endless.”

The corners of your lips upturn into a grateful smile. He really is soft. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re thanking him for.

—

Time and time passed, and he always comes every week without fail. Sometimes, when days are light, he even visits twice a week. You could say you have developed quite a relationship with the Captain, though not something that can be considered close to sentimental. The distance is still present, but you’d have small talks here and there, sometimes you’d lend him your books just so he doesn’t bore himself to death, or maybe so he’d stay a little longer.

You gradually learn to read his moods through the language of his orders. You find that he’s more of a tea lover based solely from the fact that he never once asked for coffee. Black tea is his regular, Oolong tea is when something probably turns out good or successful, since the price a little higher and you guess it’s his little way of celebrating, Chamomile tea when something is roughly off, you figure as he never speaks excessively when he orders it.

You never end up joining him, though. Of course, he always takes the table of one, there isn’t room for another.

“The usual,” Levi briefly says and hands you the exact charge. Never faltering, you smile and continue to make black tea for the man. “You still haven’t hired a helper,” he points out and you hum in agreement.

“I can manage by myself,” you inform as you stir his tea. You’ve managed years by your own, what use is there for an extra hand? Besides, it’s not like your shop gets hoarded by huge amounts of people. Coffee shops attract a moderate number, and you’re fine with that.

You slide the finished drink to Levi and he accepts, heading to his own little corner. Ever since he first came, you labeled the corner seat as his own, and you never thought of removing it again. He doesn’t seem like a very social person, like he’s a man of few words if talking is unnecessary. You always wonder how it must feel to have a conversation with such a persona; must be novel and inspiriting. Problem is, you don’t have the guts to initiate it. You don’t want to be overlooked as a fangirl of the sort. If possible, you want to converse casually.

It’s the looming distance between a coffee shop owner and a country’s renowned soldier that obstructs you from feeling on level as him.

Still, you don’t know why you’re currently grabbing a book from one of your drawers and why you’re currently making your way toward him, tray still in hand to clean afterwards as an excuse.

“Fancy a book?” you offer as you set one of your favorite titles on his table. He darts his eye on it and studies the cover for a brief moment, seeing if it’s up to his standards. It doesn’t really pique his interest, but you made an effort, and it’d be of great companion with the tea.

Levi accepts the book in his hands and starts reading, later learning about the main character’s introduction. “You have a lot of books,” he comments out of observation. This isn’t the first time you offered him one, nor is it just the second. He’s come to a conclusion that you have a liking for it.

You hum in agreement. “I like collecting them, but they’re still not enough to fill a shelf, though. I’m thinking about putting one here,” you say, already envisioning where to place it.

He almost immediately thought of the Headquarters’ library. A lot of books there just get covered in dust, unmoved. Cadets these days don’t take reading as hobby. He considers the idea of bringing some for your shop to make use of it. “I can hand you some,” he says, flipping the page.

Your eyes widen in an equal mix of delight and surprise. He’d go that far? For what? Is the Captain really like this? “Really? From where?” you try to hide the excitement in your voice, but it doesn’t escape his ears. Well isn’t that great? An upgrade for your shop and a chance to see him again. Not that he’s not showing himself enough.

“Scouts’ library,” he says, flipping another page, and you’re deep in thought. Is that allowed? Do I have to pay?

Just a couple of pages in, he seems partially engrossed. The protagonist is a traveller who encounters metaphorical life obstacles and is most likely to find self-discovery through it, that’s as much as he knows.

He notices you still haven’t left and bats you an eye. You look troubled and euphoric at the same time, he couldn’t understand entirely what you’re thinking but he has a clue. “It’s free. Some of it are old anyway,” he informs, which seems to bring your face relief. So his hunch turns out to be right, you were thinking of the burden.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that!” you deny right away, waving your hand dismissively, cheeks blushing. You definitely were.

He stays quiet, and you feel ashamed. Does he think you’re a cheapskate? Or thick-faced? Hey, he’s also reading, you must be a distraction. Oh god, how can you make acquaintances with him now?

You aim to leave and give him his space, afraid that you might be bugging him for too long now, but Levi suddenly speaks just in time.

“You have an allurement for things about the outside,” he asserts in heed. When you don’t answer, he continues, “It’s not all rainbows out there, you know.” His perception of you still stands as he’s continuously reminded by you of people who go through great measures to reach their dreams, and those he lost due to wanting to seek for more.

You don’t know if it’s a positive connotation or a negative but he doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. Your grip on the tray tightens. The way he puts it… is he trying to make you drop your interest?

“I do know that. I just,” you pause, contemplating what to say. You’re stuck with I just want to dream, is it so bad? or I just want to experience the forbidden, I’m sick of being stuck in this birdcage, or an impulsive one: I just want to see, would you bring me outside?

Instead, you settle with “I wouldn’t know, I’m a mere shop owner. I don’t have the chance to sit and talk with someone who’s gone beyond the walls.” Like you, sir.

He studies you as you look back at him with firm eyes. Brat, you already live a life with fair peace. The resolve in your eyes didn’t waver, not one bit. He thinks, will you be content with knowing about the outside? Levi heaves out a sigh and closes the book before leisurely taking a sip on his tea.

“Maybe if you’d put another chair, we’ve been talking for months now,” he then says, an even amount of sarcasm in his tone, enough to not come off as rude.

Dumbfounded, you gawk at the Captain for a good five seconds, eyes slightly enlarged in surprise before laughing your head off, turning a couple heads your way for a fleeting second.

“What’s funny?” he quizzes, thin brows furrowed together, and you wave him off, wiping your euphoric tears away.

“Well, I didn’t know it’d be that simple, Captain!” you giggle, eyes genuinely happy and hearty. Just put a chair in? In all seriousness, he doesn’t exactly look approachable with those half lidded dark eyes and a permanent scowl now, does he? That’s one of the primary reasons you have trouble making advances to him.

Levi looks at you, taking in the undeniably beautiful sight before clicking his tongue and averting his gaze.

He’s absolutely certain he paid no attention to the way you tucked your hair behind your ear in a timid manner, the way your silky locks sway gracefully by the wind’s cool breeze, the way your delicate fingers held to the tray tightly as you try to compose yourself, and the way your glowing eyes looked back at him with a gentle gaze once you’ve finally calmed down. Yes, he likes to think he paid no extra mind to those details.

“Tch, did you think I’d bite you or something?” he deadpans, taking another sip on his cup.

“No, absolutely not!” You absolutely did. “I’ll put another chair some other day,” you say and wave him goodbye upon seeing a customer enter, returning to your working place.

He shakes his head lightly and finishes his cup, bringing the book with him as he takes his exit. The smile in your face never disappeared throughout the day, chest booming in an unrelenting speed.

Sunday comes, and you decide to do a general cleaning. You also buy a small shelf from the nearest furniture shop and have it delivered, filling it with some of your books. You squeeze in a chair to the corner by adjusting the other tables’ distances, and you can only laugh at yourself for not thinking of this long ago. You think, why not just sit on a table of two? but figure maybe the Captain’s already grown fond to the spot.

You feel like a schoolgirl as you mindlessly prepare things to talk about and questions to ask. How much does he know? Are titans really that big? Is the ocean real? What brought him to your shop?

But after that, you never saw him again. You think maybe he’ll arrive later or the next day, but more weeks pass, and not even his shadow appeared.

The slowest weeks achingly turn to months. You’ve been awfully attentive to the morning papers since then, looking for the slightest news about him, or their operations. You think it’s completely understandable, being perfectly aware that the Captain is a busy man. You know that visiting little tea shops isn’t actually a luxury that a guy like him affords, but it tugs at your heart a teeny bit, a small part of you involuntarily longing for him. Eitherway, you just wish for his and his people’s safety.

About five months have passed since you last saw him. Levi, on the other hand, has gotten busy those said times. Expeditionary Operations came after another, and he’s buried with work once they arrive back. His squad got promoted to Special Operations Squad, and intensive training was mandatory. The amount of free time he had back then was generous, and in those five months, he had no time to slack off.

But he never forgot you, every single time he drinks tea, he starts doubting his own blend as compared to yours.

“That’s the last of it,” Levi says as he hands over piles and piles of paperwork to the Commander. Erwin only grunts his response.

The ravenhead contemplates for a few moments before finally speaking, “I’ll be out. I’ll return before dinner,” he informs and turns his back, words more of a statement than asking for permission. The higher ranking officer only stares at him as his figure leaves the room. Fair enough, he’s done with his current tasks as a Captain and it’s his first day off in a while. He leaves him be.

Levi dismisses his tan jacket and fixes his cravat as he heads to the shop he favors. He ends up forgetting the books he’s supposed to give but pushes it aside. Oh well, just another excuse for him to visit.

Minutes of walking on foot, steps a little quicker than normal, and he finally arrives, the ambience hugging at his aura. It’s been long since he last set his foot here. He pushes at the saloon door, a ton of improvisations greeting his sight. The interior is now painted a beige color, the warmth going along with the wooden accents. You’ve added the shelf you said you wanted to put, a fair number of books in it. Lastly, his preferred corner seat already has two chairs opposite to each other.

Your back is turned against the door again, leaning on the counter as you occupied yourself with a book. He notices that your hair has gotten longer in a span of months. He shortly wonders what else has changed.

“Oi, the usual,” a familiar voice says, stoic tone resonating in your ears and you immediately feel your soul light up, like it’s been ages since you last felt so giddy. A chaotic mix of worry, excitement, longing, and bliss surges all throughout your body.

When you face the stale eyed man, your tingling heart shamelessly speeds up, a smile rising on your lips.

—

You wave him farewell as he leaves, and as he cuts eye contact, heat shoots up into your cheeks like crazy, which he totally misses out on.

One step out and Levi feels the presence of a stalker just around the alley. He gives her a bored look and starts walking away, which she then reveals herself and follows suit.

“So this is you and your secret lover’s getaway, huh?” Hange teases, obviously aiming to pry for more. Now what, she’s spying on him? This insane woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she has good tea,” Levi answers in nonchalance, staring right ahead the road. The woman makes silly noises at his response, similar to those sounds only she can produce when learning new discoveries about titans.

“Precisely,” the redhead says in satisfaction, nodding her head with her hands stroking her chin as if she got the answer she’s waiting for.

He shoves her actions aside, couldn’t care less about whatever conclusion she came up with. But no matter how much he keeps convincing his subconscious, it’s the tea that draw me in, he just can’t bring himself to believe in it.

2K notes · View notes

ssadumba55 · 4 years ago

Text

Don't Belong Here (2019 Genie X Reader)

Request: Howdy ho! Before we begin, I just want to say that your writing is truly beautiful and amazing and I loved every single one I've read! You are truly talented, and you should never give up!! Alrighty, so, I was wondering, could I request something? For a while now I've been crushing on Genie from Aladdin 2019 (I think it's 2019 [live action]). So maybe you could write up a little something for him? Maybe helping the reader through a panic attack? Maybe sprinkle some cuddles in there too? And just fluff! Fluff everywhere! Teeth rotting fluff!! Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to! No pressure!!

A/n: Sorry if this is a little OOC I wrote this at like 2:30am when I couldn't sleep but the good news is I think it cured my writer's block. Also to be clear this is set after the events of Aladdin but before Genie leaves on his exploration of the world, I kind of just didn't mention Dalia so up to you if she exists in this or not. Either way, hope you enjoy!

You sat alone in the peace and quiet of the sleeping city of Agrabah. Everyone had long since gone to sleep, eager to start another day of hustle and bustle. Everyone except you. Technically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. Your proper place was in the palace, with your best friend Aladdin and his new beau, Jasmine. But that was actually exactly where your problem lied.

Growing up on the streets, Aladdin had been all you’d ever had. Well, not counting Abu. You had been the same to him. Wherever one of you was, the other was sure to follow. Thieving, trickery, but also sharing with those less fortunate than yourselves. You were basically siblings, actually because neither of you really knew where you came from, you just pretended you were siblings.

The two of you had spent years together on the hardened street, nothing could split you up.

And then Jasmine showed up, Aladdin was knocked off his feet before he could even really see what hit him. You’d been happy for him, and if you were being truly honest, you still were. But now that everything had calmed down, there was no more evil to fight… You missed the days when it was just the two of you.

Aladdin had adjusted quickly to life in the palace, he fit right in with Jasmine to help him. The Sultan loved him, even Rajah loved him (and that was saying something because that cat was very fickle) but you couldn’t seem to get it right yourself.

Every time you tried to do something; you were always shut down.

“You’re not sitting straight enough.”

“(Y/n)! Don’t touch that!”

“Please, don’t disturb the royal cooks while they’re preparing dinner.”

You knew they had good intentions, especially Aladdin, but the words stung. You didn’t belong in the palace, you belonged here on the streets of Agrabah. You were currently sat in you and Aladdin’s old ‘home’, more like hideout.

If he wanted to find you, he could, but you’d been gone for hours, and he hadn’t shown once so you were doubtful he would. At least you could breathe now, out of the stuffy walls of the palace, the air was crisper. You didn’t feel trapped anymore…

“Why would you come here of all places? Seriously, it reeks, no offense. If I had my magic, I could make this place a little nicer. Maybe a rug… Not a flying one, you be quiet,” A voice startled you from your thoughts and you leapt to your feet, but it was only Genie. He wasn’t much of a genie now, since his powers had been stripped when Aladdin had granted his wish, but you all still called him that anyway.

Personally, you wondered if everyone was just too scared to ask if he had an actual name. Either way, you didn’t plan on solving any new mysteries tonight.

“Leave me alone, you have more important things to worry about. Seeing the world, or whatever,” you turned back to the view of Agrabah, not really looking but needing something to distract you from the tears that threatened to fall. What were you even so upset about?

He sat beside you, letting a beat pass before answering. “Aladdin said you might be out here, he wanted to come himself but he’s-“

“Busy with the princess, there’s a surprise,” you stood from your spot on the ledge and began pacing, “living in the palace is the worst thing that’s ever happened to us. I never see him anymore and when I do, he’s nothing like he was before. What happened with Jafar and Jasmine and you… It changed him. But it left me the same. Now it’s like, like I don’t fit in anywhere.”

You hadn’t noticed while you’d been talking that your pace had gotten faster until Genie stood, placing his hands on your shoulders to stop you. You’re breathing was heavy, like you’d just run a marathon. The room felt like it was spinning, you stumbled slightly, and he helped you back to sitting.

“You’re stressing yourself out, breathe, kid,” he rubbed your back gently as you placed your face in your hands.

“I’m not a kid, I’m an adult,” you responded dryly, but you didn’t care. You were barely an adult anyway, only a few years older than Aladdin. The two of you sat in silence, him rubbing your back and you trying to hold yourself together.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You know, kid, just because Aladdin has a lot of responsibility now doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. But I think you’re right, even though he wanted the best for you by bringing you to the palace, it’s not your pace. I can see it in your eyes every time somebody drags you along to something or you’re given a task to do.”

You wiped your eyes and sat up slightly, still feeling miserable. If even Genie had noticed it, that voice in your head must be right. You don’t belong here; you don’t belong anywhere.

“Why hasn’t he noticed?” You asked softly. Genie shrugged.

“Kid, when we love someone, we do things, and we don’t always realize those things can actually hurt the people we love. Even though we have good intentions,” he shook his head sadly, “you should know that better than anyone after helping Aladdin with his whole ‘I’m a prince’ she-bang.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You helped with that too!”

He laughed, pointing to you gleefully. “I know, but at least I got you to stop looking like a wounded puppy.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while after that, listening to the peaceful quiet night of Agrabah. The hustling, bustling city was rarely ever like this. You would miss it in the morning when everyone woke up.

“Come with me, (Y/n), we can see the world together.” Genie finally broke the silence, it seemed like he’d been trying to ask you this for a while but had never been able to find the right words to say.

You hesitated. “I don’t know, I can’t just leave Aladdin alone- What if-“

“He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He has the Sultan, Jasmine, Rajah and Abu. A whole army at his command, technically. You said it yourself, you don’t belong in a palace. You belong out in the open, exploring. It’d be nice if you had someone familiar,” he stopped to point to himself with a big grin, “to spend time with while doing it.”

You studied the rooftops of Agrabah, seeing everything now from a new light. He was right, of course. You’d just needed a shift in perspective. All of the panic and anxiety from the past little bit edged away slowly. Before you could stop yourself, you hugged him, and he hugged you back.

The two of you stayed like that until well after the sun came up. You needed the extra comfort and also, it’d been a while since you’d slept. Genie didn’t mind, it wasn’t like he had anywhere urgent he needed to be.

As the two of you walked back to the palace, side by side, you turned to him.

“Since it was your idea, you have to tell Aladdin,” You grinned and raced ahead to the palace. You could hear him begin to pick up his pace to follow you, calling to you about how that wasn’t fair.

Hopefully Aladdin wouldn’t be too upset about you leaving, after all, adventure was calling.

#disney imagine #aladdin 2019 #aladdin imagines #genie imagines #genie x reader

133 notes · View notes

givemethatgold · 4 years ago

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader Warnings: Talk of parent death Length: 2.1k words Notes: Okay bitches here we go. I’ve got 3 kids doing online schooling, a desk chair that just broke while I was halfway through typing this out, a raging headache, and couldn’t be fucked to edit. I love you al, thank you for sticking with me and this little brain baby of mine. My guidance counselor from high school can suck my dick, “You’re not a creative writer, Cher, you should considering taking Home Ec as an elective instead” I digress....

Series Masterlist

"No." You glared at him and squeezed his hand harder, "You're doing that thing again.

Frankie's head whipped over to stare at you, shocked by your assertive tone.

"You're pulling away. You're stressed, out of your depth, don't know how to deal with it and so you're pulling away again-"

"You don't understand," Frankie interrupted you, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. This only served to strengthen your resolve, and your grip on him.

"No." You declare again, trying to stay calm and have a mature conversation despite the tension and running emotions. "You told me to give you time to get your thoughts straight and vocalized. I can't do that if I'm not here to hear them. I can't understand your predicament if I leave. So," You moved so you're sitting cross-legged in front of him, making eye contact in an effort to show him he had your full attention. "Why don't you tell me what that phone call was about so we can start figuring it out, together."

The situation was more complex than you ever could have imagined. Frankie's ex-wife, Karla, had died. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Annie, thank the gods, hadn't been in the car at the time. Before she'd died at the hospital, Karla had managed to say a few words to the paramedics. At the time they didn't make sense, however, the paramedic had taken the time to write the words down and included the scrap of paper with the patient's chart. This evidence, as it turned out, had been monumental during the resulting legal battle for Annie, all of which took place without Frankie even being notified.

Child services, lawyers, extended family, and even doctors had been involved in the court proceedings. All arguing over the future of the six-year-old girl. All believing that they knew what was best for her, most believing that she should live with them, some having the gall to pretend that they weren't aware of the sizable life insurance payout she was about to receive.

Eight words. Eight simple, beautiful words whispered through the broken, bloody lips of a woman who knew she was about to die. A young girl's future was being held in suspense, and as fate would have it, a wise and sentimental judge was overseeing her case. Eight words were all it took to convince him that Annie's mother knew what was best for her own child.

"Francisco Morales. Trust with her, he's ready now."

From the time Frankie had received the phone call from Karla's family lawyer, the two of you had two days to prepare for Annie's arrival. Frankie worked his magic and erected a wall across the bedroom portion of his loft, allowing for the little girl to have some privacy but not feel like she was being closed in.

He had fretted for a least twenty five minutes over colour swatches at Hank’s Hardware before coming to the conclusion that he should leave it white and have Annie chose her room colours once she had settled in. He bought himself a new couch, as well, that would convert into a bed and serve as his bedroom for the time being.

The conversation you never had a chance to have with him was still in the back of your mind, but you understood that moving in together as a couple was hard enough. Moving in together with a kid neither of you knew, whose life had just been turned upside down against her will, would be catastrophic. Instead, you focused on being as much of a rock for Frankie as you could.

You made a trip to the city and bought girls bedding, some stuffed animals, and a few little decorations to help Annie feel like the new space was special for her. You also thought to pick up comfort food that a kid might crave, knowing that when you were six the best way to your heart was chocolate. Just before you left the city, a sign caught your attention and had you swerving to change lanes, normally you'd feel slightly bad about your obnoxious driving but today you just waved your middle finger at the rear window in a mock salute.

The flower shop had so many bouquets and you had no idea what kind of flowers the little girl might like. You also had the morbid realization that bouquets might remind her of all the flowers she surely saw at Karla's funeral. Just as you began to second guess yourself, a stand near the back caught your eye and made you smile.

The day of her arrival came quicker than you felt prepared for, never mind how Frankie must be feeling. He hadn't had too much time to worry about how having his daughter would change his life, but once the two of you were standing in his driveway doing nothing but waiting, the nerves had finally settled in. You could see deep, calming breaths he was taking as they condensed into little clouds in the freezing air.

Grabbing his clenched fist, you felt his fingers relax enough to allow your gloved ones to slide through them.

"It's going to be weird for everyone, she's probably nervous too." You weren't sure if the words were reassuring or not but nervous talking seemed to be your forte so you ran with it. "I mean, she's probably sad that she's leaving everything and everyone she's always known, excited about moving to a new place, then feeling bad that she's feeling another emotion besides grief. It can be hard to juggle loss and hope. Just show her how much you love her and be honest about why you couldn't be with her before. Kids are smart and are aware of way more than adults give them credit for."

A few moments later a black sedan slowly crept up the driveway. You wanted to stay, to meet the little girl but had the feeling that Annie and Frankie were going to need time to figure out their relationship without another person in the mix. Suddenly having a new parent was going to be hard enough on the little girl, you were afraid that she might see you as trying to replace her mom and push you away.

Rubbing Frankie's back for one last show of reassurance, you kissed his shoulder then took a few steps back. You figured this was the best way to be there to support him but also staying in the background for the time being. Before the car could fully come to a stop, the rear door was flying open and, in a blur of movement, a little body was flying out of it towards Frankie. You know how people will say that there are times in their lives where important moments fly by so fast they barely have time to enjoy them? Well, this wasn't one of them.

As Annie barreled her way towards Frankie, you saw in slow motion how his handsome face went from being creased with worry, to eyebrow raised shock, to breaking out in a teary smile. He had just begun to crouch down and open his arms in anticipation of holding his little girl when instead she ran right past him and locked herself in one of the sheds.

Time continued to move in slow motion, making it all the more heartbreaking watching your boyfriend's face crumple, the tears of joy turn to tears of pain as he recovered from his initial excitement and realized that his child didn't want to see him.

Tiny, muffled sobs broke the moment and brought time, and the horrible situation, back into focus. The Child Protective Services worker who had accompanied Annie from California was calling apologies to Frankie while running after the little girl, trying not to slip in the snow in her hurry.

You wanted to go to him, to lend him some form of comfort, but you were also aware that some types of grief don't appreciate witnesses. Deciding to stick around and be helpful in the background, you made your way into the loft and started making coffee and sandwiches, foreseeing a longer stay for the caseworker than initially thought.

Nearly forty minutes had passed before you emerged again with food and drinks on a tray and the two adults were still talking to Annie through the cracks in the door. She had stubbornly refused to come out, demanding that she be returned to her home at once and that she hated snow.

Once you had set down the tray and cleared the snow off a picnic table, Frankie thanked you with a kiss to your temple and introduced you to Sharon after he convinced her to take a break from the negotiations. Sharon, who had been with Annie since the day of the accident, began filling Frankie in on what had happened to his daughter in the past month between sips of coffee. He was given a folder with notes from child psychologists, doctors, a letter from her maternal grandparents, and a journal Sharon had kept that described the ways Annie had been processing her grief.

While they talked, you decided to walk over and sit next to the door of the shed, laying a wool blanket down to protect your butt from the cold. You had no idea what to say to the girl but you figured she might like to be reassured she wasn't alone. Settling down, you dug into your own sandwich and hummed quietly to yourself.

You nearly choked on your next bite when you heard a soft voice singing along with the tune you'd chosen.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly. Rosemary Green, if you are king dilly dilly, I'll be your queen."

After you'd repeated the song twice more, you stopped the tune and said softly,

"I've never heard those lyrics before, they're different from how I learned them."

A long pause followed, making you worry that you'd offended the child back into silence.

"How do you sing it?" Came the sweetest little voice, made all the more adorable with the barest hint of a lisp.

"We always sang, 'Lavender green', for one. Which never made any sense to me so I really like how you did it-"

"Yeah, cause lavender is another name for purple," she interrupted you with a matter-of-fact tone, "saying it's green is just weird!"

"Hmmm, it might be different," you conceded, seeing the opportunity for a lesson. "But either way you sing it, it's still a really pretty song, isn't it? Things can be different but it doesn't mean one is only good and one is only bad. Each version just had different good things."

Annie went silent again but this time you didn't worry about it, you knew she was thinking about what you said and needed time to apply it to what was happening right now. You eventually heard the shifting of metal and the creak of wood and had to will yourself to sit still and calm. The way you had let her approach you had worked so far, jumping up out of excitement could possibly erase all the progress you'd made so far.

Your patience was rewarded when Annie stepped out of the shed and lowered herself so that she was sitting on the blanket right next to you. Turning your head just enough to see her in your peripheral, you noticed how dull her eyes looked. Her hair was a mess and her skin looked pale for a kid who had been living under California's sun.

"My mommy is dead."

The way it was stated as a fact, with very little emotion, broke your heart. She was so little, so young, and so unable to fully grasp what kind of future had been ripped away from her.

"I know, I'm sorry that that happened to your mom."

"That man is my daddy." She was pointing at Frankie now, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Sharon.

"He's a pretty lucky guy to have you."

"That's the lady who has been taking care of me, she's been nice."

You were a bit out of your comfort zone with the conversation but there was no way in hell you were going drop it so you cautiously trudged on. Maybe verbalizing relationships and titles was helping her process?

"I'm very happy to hear that you've been staying with someone nice. Your dad is a really nice person, too, ya know? You should see the nice bedroom he's set up for you! I even helped him bake you an apple pie. Do you like apples? Or pie?" Her eyes went wide and a spark of happiness suddenly lit her face, making her appear more childlike than before.

"Is this an apple farm?" She practically squealed. “Like in My Little Pony?!”

Her outburst had finally drawn the attention of the other two adults, who were now only realizing that Annie had exited the shed. Frankie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his two girls, beaming at each other. The twinge of jealousy from knowing that it had been you to draw her out was quickly squashed by how proud of you he was. He had been a little worried, although he hadn't voiced it, that his kid wouldn't take kindly to having a woman around but those fears were obviously for naught.

Part Fourteen

#Frankie Morales x fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Francisco Morales x fem!reader #Francisco Morales x f!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x fem!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x f!reader #fix'er upper #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fanfiction

154 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 3 years ago

Text

The Falcon and the Newlyweds

Summary: After Steve travels back in time to reunite you and Bucky, he retires as Captain America, but you’re just getting started. (aka exactly like TFATWS but better?)

A/N: All credits to original owners/writers of TFATWS series. Added details/characters and minor storyline changes are of my own imagination.

Word Count: 6.2k

And away, and away we go!

Episode 5

When Sam suggested the three of you go find John, you shook your head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t want to,” you whispered.

“Doll, we’re afraid we’re gonna hurt him, too,” Bucky admitted.

You still continued to shake your head. “I-I’m not worried about us… I-”

“Oh…” Bucky said in sad realization. “Oh, doll. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He lost control, and I think even he knows that. He’s still the idiot we hate. And yeah, by the looks of it he managed to snag a vial of the serum, which makes him like me now.” Bucky shuddered at the thought. “But someone needs to find him.”

“I don’t want to…”

“That’s okay. Sam and I can go. We can take you back to the apartment, and then Sam and I can go.”

“No. Bucky you can’t go.”

“I’m not letting Sam go by himself.”

You looked over at Sam, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Look, Y/N. I know you saw an ugly side to John. I get that fear. Okay? I do. Buck used to scare me the way John just scared you. But Buck’s right. Someone has to find him, and it’s better if we do it. And look, throughout all of this, have Buck and I ever let you get close to getting hurt?”

“No…”

“Exactly. And if it makes you feel better, Buck and I will do the talking. Just come with us so we know you’re not alone. Please?”

“Okay,” you finally nodded. “But please don’t fight him if you don’t have to.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, much less agree with it,” Bucky tried to joke. “Sam, you still got Sharon tracking him?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

~~~

Sam led the way to a building that was closed off for construction, easily locating John inside. “Walker,” Sam started.

“You guys should see a medic,” John interrupted. “You don’t look so good.” Long gone was the high and mighty tone he usually addressed you all with. His tone was also void of any attitude or malice. It was chilling to see him looking and sounding so void.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam started again, as John started to walk past you all.

“What?” he scoffed, the attitude and raised voice coming out. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky said simply, keeping his own tone calm to not anger the other man, and cause another outburst of rage. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Sage advice from one previously unhinged super soldier to a currently unhinged one.

“I’m not like you,” John insisted.

Bucky gave a sad shake of his head, and you gripped his hand in yours reassuringly. If John didn’t want to listen to someone who’d been where’d he’d been, and under much worse conditions, that was on John, not Bucky.

“Listen,” Sam stepped in. “It was the heat of the battle, okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. John, you gotta give me the shield, man.”

Slow realization swept across John’s face. “Oh… so that’s what this is. You almost got me. I should’ve known when she didn’t have any smartmouthed remarks for me.” His gaze swept over you, chillingly so.

“Mistakes happen,” you said, your voice quiet. “Let them help you so this doesn’t get worse.”

“You don’t wanna do this,” John said, his attention back on Bucky and Sam.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky responded.

There was a momentary pause as Bucky and Sam looked at each other, and nodded. In a swift movement, Bucky guided you backwards with his arm, then advanced on John with Sam.

Two against one, you watched as Bucky and Sam tried to outfight John, punches and kicks flying in every direction, vibranium fist colliding with vibranium shield. You pressed yourself against a wall, making yourself as small as possible, heart hammering in your chest as you watched the scene unfold.

Any fear you had turned to blood boiling rage when John chucked the shield, nailing Bucky in the chest as sending him crashing backwards as John advanced, Sam lying on the floor from a hit he’d taken.

“Why are you making me do this?!” you heard John scream as he pressed the shield into Bucky, pinning him between the metal and construction vehicle. He grabbed the shield that Bucky had a firm grip on, throwing Bucky sideways across the warehouse.

Seeing red, you quietly reached down to pull out a knife. Aside from the shootout in Madripoor, you never needed to use any of the weapons strategically placed throughout your suit. And despite everything, you didn’t actually want to shoot John, mostly at the risk of missing and hitting either Bucky or Sam. But while John wasn’t exactly in stabbing range, and you weren’t all that amped to get into stabbing range, you could throw it.

With a slow breath, you adjusted the sharp steel in your hand. You took aim, chucking the knife with as much accuracy and force as you could, watching as the blade hurled end over end before sinking into John’s upper thigh, at the very convenient time that Sam flew straight into him. “This isn’t you, John,” Sam breathed heavily as both men stood face to face.

“We could’ve been a team…”

Not liking the way John didn’t appear ready to give up, Sam launched a rope that locked into the shield, engaging in a weirdly combative game of tug of war.

John lost his grip, and the rope came loose, the shield clattering against the ground. If you were fast enough, you could reach out and snag it. But with Bucky still on the ground himself, Sam holding back John for you didn’t inspire much confidence. Especially when both men dove for the shield themselves. But when Sam tackled John away from grabbing it, both men rolling further away from you, and the shield, you took your chance.

“I. Am. Captain America!” John screamed as he pinned Sam down, ripping Sam’s wings off his suit.

“No, you’re not!” you said, charging into John with the shield with all your might. John’s body rolled off Sam’s, and yours rolled with the shield, clinging on to it for all you were worth as you and John both staggered to your feet. “Shit,” you breathed with a happy grin. “That was cool!” Then, your eyes went wide, before you screwed them shut, raising the shield the block John advancing on you. “SHIT!” you screamed, bracing for impact.

The impact however, never came as Bucky jumped into action at the sound of your voice, raining blows down on John. “Don’t! You! Fuckin’! Touch! Her!” Each yelled word was a new hit, as Bucky fought John away from you.

“It’s mine,” John panted like a child who was being forced to share his favorite toy against his will.

“It’s over, John,” Sam told him.

“It’s mine!” John snarled, taking a swing at Bucky.

Bucky blocked it, grabbing the back of John’s neck with his vibranium hand, and punching him in the face with his other hand. “Y/N, shield!” Sam ordered.

Not needing to be told twice, you tossed Sam the shield as Bucky picked up John, and slammed him into the shield, the force of the impact sending all three men crashing to the floor in a chorus of groaned grunts of pain, the shield lying uselessly on the ground once more.

Bucky was the first to recover, grabbing the shield, and rising to his feet. Wordlessly, he walked over to Sam, dropping it next to him. The look on Bucky’s face said more than his mouth ever could, the anger that he had helped Sam get a shield he’d given up so easily needing no reason to be physically voiced. “C’mon, doll,” he said simply, turning and walking out of the building, leaving John and Sam where they lay.

“We’re not gonna leave Sam here, are we?” you asked in a whisper, jogging to keep up with your husband.

“Right now? Yes.”

“Bucky… It’s been a long day. And I know you still have your issues about Sam and the shield, and what it all means to you. But it’s Sam. He’s our friend, and partner whether you want him to be, or not.”

“I know,” Bucky answered you through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m only leaving him for right now. Now, let’s talk about you, and what you did.”

You sighed. “What? Are you gonna yell at me about how I should have kept my distance? How you and Sam told me not to engage with John, and how I didn’t even want to go in there in the first place, so I’m completely batshit for doing what I did? That I could have gotten hurt, or worse? I know all that, Bucky. So please, spare me the lecture.”

“That was half of it, yes…” he admitted. “But what you did was also incredibly smart, and got Sam the shield.”

You shrugged. “I just got mad, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but it got Sam the shield. And it potentially saved us too. John was… That’s not a fight I’m eager to have again, that’s for damn sure. Between that fight and the one earlier… Knowing that you’re okay, and Sam probably physically feels worse than I do right now is really the only thing helping me feel somewhat okay right now.”

“Well, let’s get back to the apartment, and I’ll patch you up like old times.”

Bucky smiled fondly at long buried memories. “Mmm. Nurse Y/N. I always liked her.”

~~~

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam reported over breakfast the next morning. “But so far, they only found her followers. They’ve searched a camp nearby, and just like the last camp they searched, nothing. She’s gone. We’ll never find her.”

“Hey, you got your sleeve back,” Torres’ voice chirped as he walked into the living room, and you wondered briefly where he’d come from, but you figured he probably arrived when Sam did, and given him the full run down of the GRC’s movements, much like Sam was giving you and Bucky now. Torres pointed at Bucky’s left jacket sleeve, once again reattached to the jacket he was wearing. “No? Yeah… okay then…” Torres said to no one in particular as Bucky stood there in silence, with his trademark stoic stare.

Still silent, and clearly still angry with Sam, Bucky turned on his heel to exit the room. “Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam wondered.

“Alright, good to know you survived,” Torres chipped again in a goodbye of sorts as Bucky stalked off down the hallway.

“He’ll come around,” you said as a half-assed apology for Bucky. “He’s… ya know. So, what else do we need to know about the Karli situation? Or the John one?”

Sam shrugged, looking over at Torres. “What’s our next steps?”

“Captain America killing a foreign national in public? It’s kinda like a big deal. Like international incident big. Folks higher up on the payroll are all over it now. So, unfortunately…”

“They’re taking jurisdiction,” Sam guessed.

“Yeah,” Torres nodded, his attention falling to a duffle bag at Sam’s feet that contained the snapped wings of his suit. “What happened to these?”

“So is there anything we can do?” you asked as Torres started examining the duffle bag.

“Not really. As I was telling Sam, they’ve cordoned off the whole camp, and Karli’s a ghost. After what went down, she’s laying extra low. Like under underground.”

“That’s why it makes sense for us to get involved,” Sam said. “The longer we let her regroup, the harder it’s gonna be to find her.”

“She’s got people helping her from all over the world, on all platforms,” Torres pointed out. “She’s really, really good at this thing.” He ran his hands carefully over the splintered wings. “How’d these break?”

“John,” you answered while Sam sighed, taking in all the information Torres was providing.

“Anyways,” Torres went on, “all we can do now is sit tight, and just chill. Sometimes there’s nothing to do, until there’s something to do.”

“That’s bizarrely wise,” Sam said with a small laugh.

“It means we can train,” you interjected. “Be prepared for whatever comes next.”

“The lady has a point,” Torres agreed with you, his eyes flickering longingly to the shield that lay on the table, remnants of the blood John had splattered on his now gone.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam nodded with a smile, looking at you. “Find your husband, and let’s get to work.”

Thankfully, all you had to do was turn your head, finding Bucky stalking back down the hallway with both yours and his suitcases in hand. “B- Oh, hey. We going somewhere?”

“Home. Well. Sam is. You and I are making a pit stop first.”

“So you finally found Zemo?” was Sam’s guess.

“I have an idea of where he might be, yeah.”

“You know, sometimes you still scare me Buck. The staring. The eerily calm voice. It’s creepy, man.”

“You wanna get to work, or not, Sam?”

~~~

The pit stop ended up being Sokovia, Bucky giving you a full rundown as to why he figured Zemo would be there on the flight over. He also told you of the plan he had. And sure enough, as the two of you walked up to the memorial site, Zemo was standing in front of it, his back facing you.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said as you and Bucky got within earshot. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky deadpanned, finger clicking the safety of the gun he had ready at his side.

Zemo turned towards you both, unthreatened by Bucky’s action as his attention focused on you. “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned you and Sam, but you wouldn’t listen. Just as stubborn as Steve was, the two of you.” His gaze shifted to Bucky. “But you. They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere. And there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Bucky answered, his face conveying no evidence of whether or not that statement was actually true. “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled at what he believed to be the naivety of Bucky’s words. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”

The gun in Bucky’s hand clicked again as he loaded what you knew to be nothing, but Zemo rightfully assumed to be a bullet into the chamber, raising his hand, the barrel of the gun mere inches from Zemo’s forehead. Zemo went pale, but kept his composure calm, even nodding at Bucky like he was giving the man permission to pull the trigger.

You watched as Zemo sucked in his breath while Bucky pressed ever so lightly on the trigger. But all that came out of the gun was an empty clicking sound. Eyes still locked on Zemo, Bucky opened his other hand, the bullets clattering to the ground.

Silently, the Dora Milaje walked up, surrounding Zemo. “Ladies,” he greeted, before addressing Bucky one last time. “I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye James. It was nice getting to know you, Mrs. Barnes.”

Two of the Dora Milaje escorted Zemo away, while the third talked briefly with Bucky about their own plans for Zemo. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf,” she added as a small warning.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. Then, “Hey. I may have another favor to ask of you.”

~~~

After your visit with Zemo, you and Bucky headed home.

“Buck said you got a few good ones in on that new Cap guy. Good for you,” Steve smiled proudly.

“I did okay, I guess. Got out better than Bucky and Sam, that’s for sure,” you shrugged in modesty. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Yeah, he got back a few days ago. But just as soon as he stopped by, he was gone again. Something about seeing the old man in Baltimore?”

“Bradley,” you and Bucky said in unison. “He’s uh… like you and me,” Bucky added as an extra explanation when Steve cocked his head in confusion. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, if that was a few days ago, where’s Sam now?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “My guess? He went home to see his sister in Louisiana. You guys still not talking after what happened?”

You looked at Bucky, and shook your head. “No. Bucky won’t say it, but he’s still never forgiven Sam for giving up the shield in the first place. And now he’s even more mad he had to help Sam get it back, because-”

“None of this would have happened if he hadn’t given it up in the first place,” you and Steve gave your best Bucky impression together.

“1.) I don’t sound like that. And 2.) I’m right. None of this would have happened if Sam had kept the shield. Not the shit with Walker anyway.”

“But Sam’s still family. And we’re still Avengers. And we still have a job to finish with Karli,” you pointed out.

“What? So you want to go to Louisiana and find Sam?” Bucky asked you.

“That would be a start.”

“Doll, we just got home. Don’t you wanna be home for a bit?”

“Not when there’s still work to be done. And you and Sam gotta put this whole mess behind you once and for all, because all Riga proved was that it takes all three of us working together to take down John.”

“And that barely worked,” he reminded you.

“Which is also why we all need to train together. Not you training me here while Sam does God knows what in Louisiana. We need to be an actual team here, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Alright. I’ll book us a flight first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Why not book it right now?”

Bucky looked at Steve, clearing his throat before leaning in close to your ear. “Because of reasons I can’t say in front of your brother, doll.”

Your eyes went wide and your cheeks turned bright red at Bucky’s insinuation while Steve clapped his hands loudly together. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

~~~

You’re sure we’re in the right place?” you asked Bucky as you approached a dock crowded with people and supplies.

Bucky only nodded as he climbed in the back of a truck lifting a huge pallet with ease at the same time you heard Sam’s voice wonder “How do we get it off the truck?”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said as he set the pallet aside, turning to see Sam’s shocked expression.

“Surprise,” you grinned, waggling your fingers in a wave at Sam.

Sam stepped around the truck to get closer to you and Bucky, the shock on his face now a questioning look.

Bucky set a suitcase down on the bed of the truck. “Just dropping this off. Sign for it, and we’ll go.”

“Bucky,” you hissed under your breath. This was not part of your plan at all.

“I called in a favor from the Wakandans,” Bucky explained to Sam.

Before Sam could say anything in response, or you could berate Bucky under your breath again, a pipe started hissing loudly, and a woman was rushing over. “Sam!”

Sam wasted no time in rushing over to assess what the damage to the pipe was and how to go about fixing it, grabbing a nearby wrench as the woman looked at you and Bucky.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

“Hi,” she smiled back.

Bucky sighed, watching what Sam was doing before going over. “Hold on, hold on. You gotta go up.” He took the wrench from Sam, pushing him out of the way, quickly tightening to the loose bolt on the pipe until it stopped hissing.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?” Sam asked as Bucky set the wrench aside.

Bucky thought about it for a second, looking at the vibranium appendage. “Well, I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed. So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it,” Sam nodded.

“It’s nice,” Bucky complimented. “You want any help?”

Sam looked at Bucky, sighing deeply. “Yeah…”

You and the woman looked over at Bucky and Sam, rolling your eyes. “Men…” you muttered. Then, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Sarah,” she smiled back. “Friends of Sam’s, I take it?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, her eyes roaming over Bucky. “And who are you?”

“I’m Bucky,” he grinned charmingly at her.

Sam punched him in the right arm as hard as he could.

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?!” Bucky growled, rubbing at his arm.

“What is it with you and people’s sisters, man? How did Steve not beat your ass?”

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she looked at you, yours and Bucky’s name clicking in familiarity. “Oh!” she said, a hand covering her mouth as she looked at you, “I’m so sorry!”

You howled with laughter as Sam hit Bucky in the arm some more. “Seriously?! How did Steve not obliterate your ass?”

“He was like a foot shorter and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Bucky shrugged. “Now will you stop hitting me? Doll!” He turned to you with puppy dog eyes to help him. “Weren’t you the one saying I needed to learn to be friendlier to people?”

“Friendlier, not flirtier,” you clarified, tears rolling down your cheeks from how hard you were still laughing. “Now help Sam with the damn boat, Sergeant Charmer.”

It was an interesting morning watching Bucky and Sam work on the boat, while you helped Sarah in the house making meals. “It’s probably a good thing Bucky’s from another time,” she commented as she caught you staring dreamily out the window for the millionth time.

“How do you mean?”

“A man that looks like that, and knows it? In today’s society? Not usually a good mix.”

“Oh, those types have always existed,” you said with a small chuckle. “Bucky and Steve used to fight them quite a bit.”

“And you? Having to fight off the hoards of women that no doubt threw themselves at a man like that?”

You laughed again. “Very rare occurrences. Bucky is, uh… attentive that way, I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky to have a husband like Bucky. Men like that are hard to come by, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Funny thing is, if you ask Bucky, he’d say he’s the lucky one.”

“Well, lunch is about done if you wanna bring these plates out to them for me.”

You thanked her, loading the plates up in your arms before walking outside and over to where Bucky and Sam were. “Lunch time!” you called out.

Both of their heads swiveled in your direction, Bucky clutching at his heart dramatically. “Oh, a woman after my own heart.”

“Sarah made lunch, I just helped,” you told him, handing him a plate.

Sam snickered, taking his own plate from you, “Thanks for helping her,” he told you, then in a louder voice that was almost a shout, “Thank you, Sarah!”

“You think Karli’s gonna throw in the towel?” Bucky asked, as you all took a spot and dug into your lunch.

Sam shook his head as he swallowed his bite of food. “I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Any idea on how to stop her?”

“I got Torres working on something.”

“Well, Zemo says there’s only one way.”

You all said nothing for a minute, eating your lunch and thinking quietly to yourselves before Bucky broke the silence. “Well. Y/N and I gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Gonna get a hotel room for the night. Crash, ya know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well, there’s two of us. We don’t wanna impose, or anything. I really just came to give you that,” Bucky nodded at the suitcase the Wakandans have given him for Sam.

Sam snorted. “Like Y/N didn’t all but march your ass on the plane to get here. So just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt-” Sam rambled.

“Okay,” Bucky cut him off with a chuckle. “I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

You and Sam laughed too, before Sam pointed at Bucky, “But don’t flirt with my sister.”

“Why would I do that?”

Sam looked at you, “He doesn’t get it, does he?”

You shook your head, “He never really did.”

“What don’t I get?”

“It’s how you interact with women in general, Bucky. They find you charming,” you explained. “Niceness is mistaken as interest.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“Just keep the charm around my sister in check, or I’ll help Y/N cut you up, and feed you to the fish.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

~~~

That night, instead of a hotel, you and Bucky slept in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house, while Sam offered to take the couch.

Both of you awoke to the sounds of Sarah’s sons making a ruckus down the hall, and Sam’s tired call out of “Hey!”

You rolled on your side, to find Bucky already looking at you with a smile on his face. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” you asked, kissing his nose.

His shoulders shrugged. “Something about this is nice. Waking up next to you in a house. Sound of kids.”

You gasped softly in a teasing manner. “James Barnes, are you saying you want a quiet domestic life?”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “You knew that was what I wanted. What our lives were supposed to be like when I got home. You wanted the same thing too, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I still do. I just didn’t know you still did, given how much everything’s changed.”

“For a while I didn’t. My focus was… elsewhere. But it’s been something that’s been on my mind again since you’ve been back. But I wanted to give us both time to adjust. Catch up for lost time, just me and you. And then… ya know. But yeah. This,” he twirled a finger about the room, and the sounds of the house coming alive, “is still something I want.”

“Well, it’s still something I want, too.”

His kiss was heavy with need as his lips crashed into yours. “God, I love you.”

~~~

The shield bit deeply into the tree Sam hurled it at. “Son of a b-” he muttered, dashing over to wedge it free.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Bucky told him.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Sam repeated in a mocking tone.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I got an idea.”

The idea ended up being taking rubber mats to bound around the trees, Sam giving it a test once they were done. The shield bounced off the mat, flying straight back to Sam who caught it with ease. “Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “That’s way better.”

“How’s the shield part feel?” you asked.

“That part feels weird.” He launched it again, the shield ricocheting off one mat into another before Bucky caught it. “The legacy of that shield,” Sam continued, “is complicated to say the least.”

“When Steve told us what he was planning, I don’t think any of us really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we?” Bucky spoke up.

You and Sam shared a look, Sam jerking a thumb at you, “Well, I understood. And so did she. But glad you’re finally catching up.”

Bucky sighed, “Fine. I didn’t understand. Point is, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” He lifted the arm the shield was on towards Sam for Sam to take.

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, taking the shield.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault,” Bucky went on to say. “I get it. It’s just… that shield… For a while it was the closest thing I had to a family. Or it was a huge part in me getting my family back anyway. Because if Steve never took it up in the first place… Well, when you retired it, it felt like giving up. Made me question everything. Like first Steve retired. Then you retired the shield. Everything that saved me was done. Like I was nothing but a completed mission.”

You and Sam stayed quiet, letting Bucky spill out the confession he now found the words to express. But after a long enough pause on Bucky’s end, you reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I know both Steve, and the shield mean a lot to you. But it doesn’t define you, Bucky,” you told him softly. “You are not who you are because of Steve. He might have helped, but he is not the reason. You are. You’re the one who put in the work.”

“She’s right,” Sam agreed with you. “You gotta stop looking at other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you, you still having those nightmares?”

“All the time,” Bucky nodded. “It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love? You wanna climb out of that hell you’re in, keep doing the work.”

“I’ve been making my amends.”

Sam scoffed. “No. You weren’t amending, you were avenging. And teaching Y/N in the process. You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier because you thought it would bring you closure. But if it actually was, then your nightmares wouldn’t be happening. At least not with the frequency they still do.”

Bucky looked at you, both of you thinking about Yori back home. “You’re not allowed to talk to Sam anymore if you’re gonna blab everything I tell you to him.”

You smiled, knowing he was only teasing. “We’re a team, Bucky. Looking out for each other is what we do.”

Bucky shook his head. “Definitely not a team.”

“Nope,” Sam agreed with Bucky.

“We’re not that good,” Bucky laughed.

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed again.

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And uh… partners?”

“Coworkers.”

“But, we’re also a couple guys with a mutual friend.”

“But the friend’s now gone,” Sam pointed out.

“So we’re a couple of guys.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

You snorted at their boyish back and forth antics. “The word you’re looking for is ‘family’ actually,” you interjected.

“Just uh… call us when you have a lead on Karli, and we’ll be there,” Bucky told Sam.

“Yep. And uh, thanks for the help. Meant a lot.”

“Course,” Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder, and you and Sam gave each other a quick hug. “C’mon, doll. We got a flight to catch.”

~~~

Back home with no idea for how long, you and Bucky set to work on a more rigorous training for you.

Mornings quickly became filled with drilling you in various hand-to-hand combat techniques in which Bucky barely broke a sweat, and you ended up drenched in enough of your own for the both of you.

While you relished in your morning routine with Bucky, it was the afternoons you found particularly interesting after you came out of the bedroom to find Bucky sitting in front of his laptop. “Whatcha looking at?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you peered at the house listings on the computer screen.

“Domestic dreaming,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he patted the sofa cushion next to him for you to join him.

“Oh, so when you said you still wanted this, you meant you wanted it now,” you teased as you moved around him to take the offered seat.

He shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Thanks to Stark, everyone that’s still around is pretty well off. And I forget when exactly, but at some point Steve and I were able to get our GI funds.”

“That’s nice,” you noted, now understanding why finances had never seemed to be an issue despite neither of you actually working.

“Yeah. And I figured raising a family in a shoebox apartment isn’t part of that domestic dream. So…”

“So here we are,” you supplied.

“So here we are,” he repeated with a nod. “Oh, this one looks nice,” he said, clicking on one of the options.

“It is,” you agreed, watching as Bucky clicked through the pictures of the 3 bedroom home. “Big enough to raise a family. Small enough to not be obnoxious.”

“Mhm,” Bucky murmured, the mouse hovering over the link to schedule a viewing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned.

After that, it wasn’t uncommon for yours and Bucky’s afternoons to be filled with meeting with realtors and attending open houses, weighing all your options in the evenings. And with the type of dedication Bucky had towards house hunting, it wasn’t long at all until you found a place you both fell in love with.

“C’mon, doll,” he roused you one morning like he always did. “Gotta go train.”

Normally you bounded out of bed, excited for a new day of training exercises, but today you swatted a hand at him, batting him away. “No,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up over your head, and turning away from him, the action making your stomach roll. You let out a long, low groan.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice taking on a note of concern. Hands pulled the blanket from your face, before he was feeling your forehead, checking for any unusual warmth. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” he noted with a frown.

“Gonna be sick,” you announced, springing from bed and racing for the bathroom.

Bucky followed worriedly, one hand pulling your hair out of your face, the other rubbing soothingly at your back as you dry-heaved into the toilet. “Okay, no training today. We do have the meeting with the realtor later to sign the last of the papers and get the keys. But I can ask Steve to come keep you company while I go do that if you’re not up for it.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and rising shakily to your feet. “You don’t have to bother Steve. It’s just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, let me at least help you back to bed, and make you some breakfast, okay?”

“Fine,” you conceded, letting him support your weight as he led you back to bed. “But I’m not hungry,” you told him as you pulled the blanket close around you in bed.

“Not hungry, or worried you’ll be sick if you eat?” he questioned the validity of your statement.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “At least try to eat some toast for me? Maybe having something in your stomach will help.”

“If you get it to me before I fall back asleep, I’ll try,” was your compromise.

Quickly, Bucky raced into the kitchen, as you closed your eyes wondering why you suddenly felt so miserable. When you’d been sick in the past, there’d always been signs leading up to it. But this sickness had caught you completely off guard.

“Gotta sit up for me, doll,” Bucky’s voice had you opening your eyes again, spotting him standing next to you with a plate in his hand.

You groaned, sitting up against the headboard and taking a begrudging bite of the toast.

He chuckled again. “I forgot how stubborn you get when you’re sick. Way more than you normally are.”

“Not sure how not wanting to vomit toast, and wanting to sleep makes me stubborn, but okay,” you said, taking another slow bite.

“Aren’t there usually signs before you get sick? I thought there used to be signs.”

“There are signs. Or there’s supposed to be. I dunno what the heck is happening.”

His brows pulled together in curious confusion. “You’re not…” his eyes shifted to look at your stomach pointedly. “Are you?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion, before you shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe?”

“Shit…”

“Would it be bad if I was?”

“No!” he rushed. “God no. Just…”

“We talked about all of this back in the forties, it became irrelevant for decades, and now that we started talking about the possibility of it all again, it’s all happening at once.”

“And we still have the Karli situation, yeah. But it’s fine. It’s more than fine. Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy?”

“Please?”

Ten minutes later, Bucky held you tight as you waited on the test lying on the bathroom counter with wide and tearful eyes. “Holy shit…” you both breathed in unison, as a small plus sign appeared in the result window. “Holy shit!”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids

#tfatn #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #rogers!reader #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

59 notes · View notes

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years ago

Text

Armitage Hux x Female Reader

A/N: Set in my Echoes of the Heart universe I went back in time and wrote a little moment between Armitage and Reader before their arranged wedding. For Writer Wednesday @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: Mention of arranged marriage, nothing else I can see.

Word Count: 1503

The house seemed empty, you knew better though. Candles lit the dark wood hallways, casting a warmth that was not felt, flickering long shadows on the walls making the hallway have a life of its own. Your feet were bare, feeling the plush carpet beneath your toes as you padded to your favourite room on the Hux estate, your black nightgown fluttering with your movement. You took a candle off the wall and gently pushed open the large dark wood door, it creaked and you paused for a moment before slipping inside.

Rain pounded on the window, rivers of water flowing down the outside of the house as the never ending deluge fell from the perpetual grey clouds that filled the skies of Arkanis. The room was long, a dark wooden desk and two chairs stood to one side and you gently placed the candle down swapping it for one of the fuel cell powered lights. It filled the space with a barely perceptible hum but it gave you a sense of comfort. You trailed a hand over the back of one the chairs, the velvety grey/green texture soft against your fingertips. Lining the walls were rows of shelves all holding artifacts from one place or another. You even saw an old Imperial Trooper helmet on one but that’s not why you were here. Looking up you could see the foreboding wooden structure ran all the way to the ceiling and the top half was filled with books.

Books were rare in the Galaxy and for the Hux’s to have an entire library of them just screamed out their insurmountable wealth. You carefully made your way up the stairs, your heart thrumming with excitement as you approached the delicate objects, some were standing, their binders out so you could see the titles. Others were slumped in their little spaces, resting on one another as though they were tired of existing. Dust covered them, a thin layer but enough to see when it had been disturbed and you saw a void on one shelf. You trailed a finger across the gap, someone had been here and recently. You jumped when the door opened below, your first thought was to hide among the shelves but the light was on and it was pointless pretending you weren’t here.

“Hello?” Your breath hitched at his voice.

“Forgive the intrusion General.” You carried on perusing the shelves, coming into view so he could see you as you moved into the next aisle and disappearing from view again.

“No intrusion, it is I who should apologise for disturbing your solitude.” Always so formal, you thought with a little sigh. A shiver ran down your spine when you heard him start to come up the stairs to replace the book he had taken.

“Do you have a favourite General?”

“Book?” You peered round the end of the aisle to look at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yes of course you meant book,” he muttered to himself. Your eyes dragged over him, he was still in his First Order uniform, he had bags under his beautiful green eyes and his hair was fluffy and soft as it dragged over his brow.

“Can you not sleep?” He cast a guilty look at you, his pale hands clutching the book tightly as though it was grounding him.

“No,” he confessed. “I am, I believe…nervous.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, you had so much you wanted to say, how you hoped this marriage could blossom and become real but you didn’t think he was ready.

“I told you, I am not unwilling, I do believe it was the library that might have sealed the deal.” You joked and he let out a slight laugh, running a hand through his hair. You wanted to commit the sound to memory. He didn’t seem like a man who laughed freely very often.

“You enjoy books?” He asked lightly.

“I must confess we only had a couple in our house before…” my father sold them. “I did have one, it had such beautiful pictures depicting the planet Naboo.” Your eyes drifted as they lost focus, you remembered running your hands over the pages admiring the blues and greens, the glint of gold in the letters. Naboo was everything Arkanis was not. Armitage raised a hand and you focussed back on him.

“Wait a moment,” he mumbled and disappeared down an aisle, curiosity got the better of you and you followed him, both of you disappearing into the dimly lit rows of books. “Here,” the whisper of a book being removed from its resting place reached your ears and he turned to you with almost a hesitant expression on his face. “I believe this is the book you are referring to.” You took it, tracing your hands over the cover before turning and heading back into the light. You felt like you were in a dream as you glided down the stairs and took a seat in one of the plush chairs. You didn’t realise he’d followed you until he was peering over your shoulder. His body heat a comforting sensation on your back as he leaned over, his hand resting on the back of your chair, ever careful not to touch you.

You winced at the crack in the binding as you opened it, they hadn’t been handled for a while and so you must always open them with care. The pages were thick, just as you remembered and words were scrawled across the parchment. Long flowing runs of slanted words, the first letter of each page stood out, decorated with shimmering gold and you gently traced a finger over the colouring. You turned another page and sharply inhaled at the picture that was revealed to you. This picture showed waterfalls all blue and clouds of white, vibrant green grass and sunshine. You ached for such things, to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, to be able to lay on the grass and hear birdsong instead of rain. To splash in the lakes, run your hands over the gem coloured pebbles only to dry off in the sun, a gentle breeze drifting over you. Many hours had been spent pouring over this book, it had got you through your mother’s death, transporting you to places undiscovered.

You didn’t realise you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, concern edging his tone.

“Yes,” you dabbed your eyes, careful not to mark the pages. “I am just being silly.”

“Do you have memories tied to this book?”

“I do,” you hiccuped softly. “When my mother was dying I spent hours pouring over the pages, imagining I was anywhere but here.” You slammed the book shut already worried you’d said too much. The marriage was tomorrow and if you spilled anymore of your damaged soul he might call the whole thing off. You stood abruptly making him back up a step in surprise, your fingers clutched the book almost loathed to part with it. “Thank you for showing me this,” you whispered, offering it back to him. His hands were hesitant and slightly shaky as he wrapped them over yours. His fingers were warm and smooth and he pushed the book gently back towards you.

“They never get looked at in here. Consider it….a wedding present.” You glanced at him, the light from the lamp casting harsh shadows over his chiselled features but all you got from him in that moment was kindness.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You expected his hands to move away but he stayed where he was, the warmth of your hands bleeding together until you couldn’t tell them apart without looking down. Your heart fluttered, you wanted to kiss him, to express your gratitude and to show him some kindness in return. You’d heard the rumours of how ruthless General Hux was, his subordinates deferred to him without question, he’d killed people for less than disobeying a simple order. But right now you saw none of that, just a quiet man in his huge house offering a moment of solace to someone he barely knew. Your chests rose and fell in sync as you stared at each, you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek but his expression changed. You saw the horror flood his eyes, the panic fly across his face as he snatched his hands away, his movements jerky and he backed out of your reach.

“Goodnight My Lady. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon,” his tone abrupt and dismissive as though he was brushing you off.

“Goodnight General.” You replied softly, watching him almost flee the library. You sat down with a sigh, pulling your gown around you to ward off the sudden chill that filtered into the room. Hopefully he would open up once you were married, hopefully you could show him the love that he clearly deserves even if he never returns it.

136 notes · View notes

wavyhairedbabyy · 4 years ago

Text

Idiots - Part 2

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: none, fluffy :))

a/n: Picnic portion was inspired by Sunflower by Rex Orange County :) Sorry it took so long! Major writers block on this but now I’m back :)))

edited yet?: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

“So we agree, I’m Eve and you’re Wall-E?” y/n asked as the credits began to roll.

“I want to sit here and disagree with you just to spite you, but I can’t,” Karl responded, “I could 100% see you blasting someone for just walking funny on a bad day.”

“I’d blast you just for the hell of it,” Y/n jumped onto their feet raising their arms up in a big stretch after sitting for the movie.

“Bad choice,” Karl reached his arms to the side of their body, immediately tickling them. Y/n immediately screamed out his name, trying to move themselves out of his grasp. As soon as Karl noticed this, he grabbed their arm to pull them back on to the sofa.

“You’re... going... to... regret... this!” Y/n huffed out, thrashing against him. Karl’s giggles and their screams echoed around the house. It wasn’t until y/n mustered up all of their strength to push him of the couch for them to escape his clutches.

Y/n ran to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind them. Karl quickly ran behind them only to have the door slammed in his face, “Aw, c’mon y/n, let me in.”

“After that stunt you pulled? In your dreams, Jacobs,” Y/n turned toward the sink, ignoring Karl’s attempts to unlock the door. The only thing on their mind was their night routine and then hitting the hay.

As y/n started the warm water, the door swung opened making them jump. At the door frame stood Karl with a quarter in his hand, “Next time you should check to see what kind of lock I have.”

“Whatever, smart ass,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully, reaching for their tooth brush. They brushed their teeth as Karl scrolled through his phone. After the flight, unpacking, and a night with Karl, y/n just wanted to head to bed. They couldn’t even imagine how Karl felt with all the Mr. Beast stuff. After rinsing their mouth they asked, “You goin’ to bed too?”

Karl shook his head, “Nah, I’m going to stream for an hour or two. Nick and Alex want to practice for this Minecraft Championship thing so I’m gonna root them all while also roasting the crap out of them.”

Y/n should’ve known, especially with the mountains of energy drinks in his fridge. The man probably never sleeps, “Well you enjoy that. I��m knocking out for the night.”

Karl nodded. “I figured. You and you grandma schedule,” he giggled, resulting in a pout from them.

“You say that as if dealing with sleep deprived me isn’t one of the worst things in the world.”

“I mean, you got me there,” he shrugged. He walked over to them, wrapping his arms around them tightly, “Goodnight. Knock on my door if you need anything at anytime, okay?”

Y/n nodded, hugging back just as tightly. They wished this could last together. His smell was comforting, reminding her of happiness and serenity. His hold made them feel safe, like nothing could hurt them as long as he was there. The feeling ended too quickly as he pulled away, giving them one last smile before heading off to his stream room.

Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, huffing to themselves. Going from not seeing Karl for over a year to all Karl all the time felt like sensory overload. The butterflies, the emotions, their head racing with thoughts that they shouldn’t have for someone who is just their best friend - it was a lot.

This was going to be a long week.

***

Y/n woke up to the sun’s rays gleaming through the blinds. Looking at their phone, they saw that it was 9AM. Juggling between the staying in bed and getting up, y/n decided that getting up was the better option. The last thing they wanted to do was go back to bed and mess up their “grandma schedule,” as Karl would call it.

Moving out of the bed, they reached their limbs as far as they could stretch them. After picking their outfit, they journeyed to the bathroom to get their morning started. On the way over, they peeked into Karl’s room and saw him still asleep. They had no idea when he had gone to bed so they shut the door quietly, making their way to the bathroom once again.

As they were brushing their teeth, y/n realized it was the day they were going to the warehouse for a Mr. Beast video. They knew they weren’t going to be filmed, but the nerves were still there. They had met Chris, which was helpful, but not Jimmy yet. What if they messed up a shot? Or messed up any equipment? Not touching anything while they were there seemed like a fool proof idea.

Y/n finished up their morning routine as they kept thinking of ways to not fuck anything up. Making their way to the kitchen, they knew the one thing that could - somewhat - calm their nerves: coffee.

Y/n happily found a jar of instant coffee. Not the best, but it’ll do. Upon unscrewing the jar, they noticed it a plastic film seal up which confirmed that it was brand new. Did Karl get this just because he knew they were coming? They couldn’t recall him ever drinking caffeine that wasn’t from an energy drink. Y/n didn’t know, but the idea of it made their heart melt.

***

Once Karl woke up, he and y/n made a quick breakfast together made their way over to the warehouse.

“I don’t know why, but I’m really nervous. I don’t even know what I’m nervous about. I know it’s going to be fine, but.... I don’t know,” y/n expressed on the drive there. It was a brand new experience and they didn’t know what to expect. They’ve never been on a set of any kind let alone one for someone as well known as Mr. Beast.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I know it can feel overwhelming, especially for your first time. I’ll be there if you need anything,” Karl comforted them through their nerves. He held their hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “If you ever need a minute, don’t wait to ask. Just take it.”

Y/n smiled at him. He was always great at making sure they were comfortable wherever they went. While the nerves were still there, they felt a lot better knowing Karl was available, even among the chaos that may ensue.

***

The day at the warehouse went really well. Y/n’s nerves went away about an hour in, but that didn’t stop Karl from checking every now and then. Y/n was grateful that they respected them not wanting to be filmed, especially when they started filming a Fear Factor like video with snakes, cockroaches, and tarantulas. With all the creatures around, it didn’t take long for them to grab one of the smaller boa constrictors and start chasing Karl around with it.

“Y/N! STOP! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?” Karl screeched, running away from them.

“REMEMBER THAT TICKLE ATTACK FROM LAST NIGHT? TOLD YOU YOU WOULD REGRET IT!” Y/n yelled back. They were laughing the entire time while Karl continued his screaming. Their fun chasing Karl was cut short when snake man had to start packing away his animals.

At some point during the day, y/n had taken a step outside for a social break. Chris took this time to continue the conversation he and Karl had in the car. Walking over to his friend, he asked, “So have you told them yet?”

Karl looked around to ensure you hadn’t come back or were around before responding, “No, I’m going to wait until right before they leave. I’m scared that I’ll tell them and it’ll ruin the week.”

Chris looked at Karl, absolutely dumbfounded, “Dude, I can’t believe the two of you. And you two acted the way you did today in college too?”

“I mean, yeah. We’re best friends. What’s wrong with how we’re acting?” Karl gave him a confused look.

“Nothing but it’s so painfully obvious y’all are into each other. I didn’t pick it up yesterday, but y/n is totally into you too, man,” Chris explained, “Even Chandler was able to pick it up. He thought I was kidding when I said you two weren’t a low-key thing. Please do both of yourselves a favor and just tell them.”

This conversation ran through Karl’s head the rest of the day. Did y/n really like him back? The thought of that made his stomach do flips. He became hyper aware of all y/n’s actions and they suddenly meant more to him. When they high-fived, he felt his hand on fire when they weaved their fingers with his. He was more aware of their body on his when they hugged, butterflies flying through his stomach when they gave him a squeeze.

The drive home was spent by y/n non-stop talking about how much of a great day they had right after a heated debate on where they would be picking up dinner. They were too tired to even thinking about cheffing up a meal. What y/n didn’t know was the nerves hidden underneath Karl’s semi-cool exterior on how he planned on confessing his feelings. Luckily, “semi-cool” was his middle name.

The two had stopped at the Asian fusion place they decided to pick up food from. As they got into the car, Karl’s eyes lit up as he came up with an idea for dinner and turned to y/n.

Y/n, noticing this, furrowed their brows and said, “You either have a really good idea or a really dumb idea, and I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“You are absolutely right!” Karl giggled, “Anyways, to keep it short and simple, picnic in the park? I have a blanket and we can pick up some ice cream or something.”

“That... actually is a great idea! I’m starting a playlist now and I’ll share it with you. How does ‘stupidly great vibes’ sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

The two sat on a hill in a nearby park, digging into their dinner with the last minute playlist y/n had come up with playing in the background. The bottom of the sun was barely touching the horizon, getting ready to set and give the sky to the moon for the night.

The comfortable silence they had was one of their favorite things about their relationship. Neither of them ever felt pressure to fill the emptiness. Just being in each other’s company was entertaining and pleasing for both of them. They just watched their surroundings, while enjoying their food and each other’s presence.

After they clean up, the silence continued. They sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the moment they were in. They both would steal side glances at each other without the other noticing. Moving to lean their head on Karl’s shoulder, Y/n was looking at the sunset but their thoughts were swarmed with him and the last day and a half. They loved how he always made sure they were comfortable and welcomed in any setting. They loved they way his voices would crack during a fit of giggles. Just one day with him had their mind swirling in a pool of just him. His touch, his smell, his voice. They felt like they were in a trance with him.

Being with them, Karl realized how much happier he was with them there. He realized how much giddier he was waking up, how his mood had been uplifted with just their presence. He loved how headstrong they were, but never so much to the point that it hurt other people. He loved the way they could up his self esteem in the matter of a few minutes. The more and more he thought about it, the more he realized he loved them. He loved them more than just a best friend. He’s had for a handful of years. He wanted more than just the title “best friend.”

The two sat there, both individually coming to the realization that they have been falling in love with the other over the last few years. Neither caught onto each other’s hints while every outsider saw the love for one another other bloom.

Karl turned his head, spotting a small white daisy in the grass next to their blanket. He leaned over to grab it which forced y/n to lift their head from where it was, their eyes watching for what he was reach for. Plucking it from the grass, he leaned back and gave it to y/n.

“For you,” he practically whispered with the goofiest grin on his face. Y/n took the flower from his hand, returning his smile.

“Aw, thanks Karl.”

They locked eyes immediately after. Any plans Karl had in his mind on confessing to y/n immediately got thrown out the window, the hours of thinking gone to waste. In that moment, he blurted out the only words he could make sense of in that instant, “y/n... I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/n froze, trying to wrap the words he said around their head. They for sure thought they were awake but after his confession, they couldn’t be sure if they were in a dream or not. Their mind was reeling, making the task of forming a sentence that made sense a difficult one.

At the same time, Karl was giving himself a mental face palm. He wanted to confess his feelings, but not to that level. His nerves were on high alert, already assuming the worst was yet to come. He had to save the friendship at the very least.

“I-I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that,” he rambled, “But - uh- I’ve had a crush on you for a while now and I never wanted to ruin the friendship but if you’re uncomfortable with that, that totally makes sense-”

As he kept talking, y/n began to collect their thoughts. They thought he looked so cute when he nervously rambled but they had to cut him off eventually, knowing his anxiety levels were through the roof.

“Karl,” As soon as he heard their voice, his rambling stopped and kept all eyes on them. He looked at them waiting for a response but receiving none. Instead y/n wrapped their arms around him, enveloping him in a warm hug, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Karl felt his heart explode. Chris was right. He hugged them back just as, if not more, tight. Any nerves he had running threw his body were replaced with pure happiness. He didn’t need to hold anything back from them anymore.

Y/n pulled away from the hug, leaning their foreheads together, “Can I kiss you?”

Karl smiled, “Honestly, it’s all I’ve want since I made that shot into your coffee.”

Y/n gave Karl a bewildered look, “What? That long?” They exclaimed

“Yeah, but we have the rest of the week to talk about it.” Karl leaned in, pressing his lips gently against theirs, wrapping his hands around them to bring them closer. The kiss was gentle and sweet, as if they would be woken up from a dream if they were anything but that.

They pulled away from kiss, but remained in each other’s arms. They stayed silent and enjoyed each other’s presence and touch, each meaning much more than they had just a few moments earlier. All that was left in the park was the semicircle of the sun on the horizon, a bag of food scraps, and two idiots, dumbfounded at the love they had for each other.

***

If you liked this fic, check out my others:

Masterlist

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x reader fluff #karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction

129 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Note

Blurb req- Tom and the reader on a private jet hungover? just pure fluff?

fluffy requests are well and truly open ( bcos I adored writing this ahah) and let me know what u think , I am deff not a writer so any feedback or tips would be v appreciated :))

summary: tomhollandxactress!reader - a wrap party followed by an early morning flight and a grumpy Harry, what could possibly go wrong?

warning: mentions of alcohol and sickness

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The remorse. The regret. It only made the pounding in your head even worse. Why those two 1.5 litre bottle of Bacardi had been brought out was beyond you. Why the you six of you had then decided to empty said bottle was even more of a mystery. It wasn’t like any of you had needed it, you’d all been more than ‘merry’ prior to the cheap rum and coke.

Hence the state of you, Tom and Harry as well as your manager Davey and Tom’s team of Rachel and Andrew. All having made very little effort with your appearance - joggers and hoodies all round, with you and Rachel also sporting sunglasses because you were simply smarter than the boys. Thankfully, this wasn’t a big trip that fans knew about, this was you and Tom moving location under cover - the studios didnt want anybody to know that either of you made a feature in this film, so everything was under the cover of darkness. Which to be honest you were not complaining about. However, you were complaining about the fact the flight had been scheduled to leave at 7 am the night after your wrap party though.

The two of you had just wrapped your most recent and most ambitious movie to date - hence the massive celebrations last night for just surviving and getting it done. It had been the most intense 3 months of your life, there had been times you’d cry for hours on end, times you just wanted to quit fully knowing you’d never be hired again for leaving a multimillion dollar company in the lurch.But you all, somehow, had survived. So celebrations were in order of course but perhaps not as far as you all managed last night?

Your whole convey appeared to have travelled to the airfield in absolute silence, no one particularly fancied hearing anyone else’s voice- which to be honest seemed quite fair. You’d ridden in a car with Tom and Harry, with you resting your head on Tom’s broad shoulder - which had obviously made Harry gag, rolling his eyes. Bless Harry, really he was the only reason you and Tom had got together, after getting sick of the mutual pining he’d been forced to live with during the previous 2 projects you’d worked on together. But now, having had to put up with the two of you being so ridiculously loved up for the past 3 months - understandably a bit of distance from you and his brother was overdue.

One of the flight attendants busied themselves loading your luggage, whilst the pilot asked you and Tom for a photo. Of course, you weren’t going to say no however you did have to cringe at how rough you both looked. His teenage daughter certainly would be less excited to see that her Dad hadn’t met Tom Holland and Y/n Y/l/n. Instead he’d met the zombified, undead and rougher frauds. Still you smiled as much as you could, wincing when you removed the glasses and the early morning sun pierced your restricted pupils. God it wasn’t your day.

The guy didn’t seem to mind though, excitedly hurrying off onto the plane to settle in the rest of you - leaving just you and Tom outside on the tarmac.

“Poor guy, we look like shit.” You murmured while taking a step closer to lean slightly into his side.

“Speak for yourself love.’Tom snickered into the top of your head, after pulling you completely into his chest. This wasn’t normally allowed, your relationship still wasn’t public and both of you intended on keeping it private for as long as possible. But you were in an otherwise empty field in the middle of nowhere (somewhere in Georgia) before 8 am. It was actually quite nice to feel your boyfriends arms round you in the outside world, especially when you felt this shit. After a few moments you pulled away, arching back at Tom’s pouty face as you motioned it was time to get on the plane.

“’S too late you know.” Your brows furrowed at his half formed sentence, facial expression only demanding him to explain more. “They all have already taken the good seats… Harry basically sprinted on so he can hog the bed thing.” In response it was your turn to pout, groaning as you fell back into his chest again. Yes, this was a complete first world issue, a private jet paid completely by your bosses was not something a lot would moan about. Truly you were grateful for everything you had in life, but with the worst hangover of your life when the opportunity of lying down for 6 hours instead of being stuck in a chair had manifested itself… well of course you felt robbed by your almost brother Harry.

Chuckling at your reaction, he gave you an extra squeeze before leading the both of you up the stairs to the cabin. Sure enough Harry had completely and totally claimed the longer couch at the far end of the plane, lying on his stomach with his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Rolling your eyes at the predictable situation, you didn’t miss Davey laughing at your sorry state - nmaking you throw daggers at him in your eyes.

Davey was your second father, the relationship between the two of you far transcended any professional working one. Which is why the two of you acting like this was very much a norm and not rude at all. He had also got the next best seat in the corner with the most leg room which he clearly loved to show off.

Unsurprisingly then you and Tom ended up squashed into the corner with your legs crumpled up together in the small space floor space. The brunette opposite you didn’t seem to mind so much but that was because he had an adaptational advantage. He could sleep anywhere and everywhere , whenever he wanted. On set if he was tired? Just take a ten minute power nap on the floor. Bored of a long car journey? Just conk out against the window. It absolutely infuriated you, as no matter how hard and how exhausted you were - it was rare you could get any further than a light doze. Even before the two go you got together, having a best mate that could skip all the boring bits and was immune to jet lag… you can see how that makes you want to punch him square in the face.

After a short safety talk from the pilot and flight attendant, the plane whirred into life and you were up in the air. Although in your current state, it would be reasonable to assume the beauty of flying had somewhat rubbed off - you were certain it never would. No matter how many flights you took across country ,and in fact continents, for work; you’d never get sick of watching the view below you. It was perfect and breathtaking and took your mind off the pounding in the back of your head for the first 20 minutes.

Until the need for sleep took over as either you need to be unconcious or you were going to vomit - which you really didn’t want to do at 40,000 feet in a tin box. Trying to rearrange your limbs to get comfier you accidentally knocked Tom’s leg rather forcefully, causing him to jump half out his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly as he tried to get his baring as to what was attacking him - quickly answered by your guilty look.

“You okay love?” His voice was slurred, sounding almost sleep drunk - but perhaps was just actually still a little drunk. You’d only headed to bead last night at 4 am and had to be up at 6 - which isnt very long for your poor kidneys to try and process the stupid amount of alcohol you’d both happily been chugging the night before.

“Feel shitty and cant sleep.” You weren’t in the mood to white lie - honestly some sympathy from your beautiful boyfriend seemed like a dream at the moment. Tom’s idea was better though.

“C’mere then.” His arms outstretched, you immediately jumped into his lap - the two of you shifting about to get comfortable till you were sat side on to him, your bum and back leaning against the arm rest of the chair with your legs going over his thighs and pressing against the wall of the plane. Pulling you closer to his chest, Tom took a deep breath as he pressed his chin against the crown of your head; your face now nested into his chest.

Nothing needed to be said as the two of you melted into each others bodies, the slow and deepening breathing enough to prove to each other you were both incredibly contented in that moment. More than that you felt safe- you’d admitted to Tom some weeks ago that you had never ever slept better than when he was beside you. Yeh it was cringey but sometimes that’s allowed right?

… well not to Harry. Because as the plane was about to begin it’s descent, the pilot had tasked Harry (who had slept off the worst of the hangover and had spent the last 30 minutes of the flight scoffing at how adorable the two of you looked fast asleep together) - even after Rach had scalded him and had taken a photo of the two of you on her phone.

Causing Harry to ,ever subtly, wake the two of you up by throwing his half empty water bottle over your heads.

Safe to say, Harry very nearly didn’t leave that jet alive.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #harry holland

272 notes · View notes