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thylacines-toybox · 2 years

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i love love love love the chimera character in your icon!! did you make them? if you did, do youve detail pics and/or wip pictures? i really want to make / modify a sensory plush for myself so i love the addition of things like the teether tail and would love to see all the little beastie's features and learn more about them if youre ok with sharing!! and in general, do you ever post WIPs or tips abt sewing?? thanks for your time and sharing your amazing work with us!

First off, yes I do have a few bits and pieces of sewing advice in my plushie advice tag! There could always be more, though…

I’m glad you enjoy my chimera, I love him too! He was such fun to make and come up with all the babyish details for, and I’m very proud of him.

I don’t really have wip pics of the chimera (since I was kind of in The Zone making him) but I can take you on a, uh, short tour of his features, that sounds fun!

The baby boy himself… lots of pictures and words under the cut!

Here are the first doodles of him as I came up with his design! I was trying to make a cute lion/lamb (the meanings of the two parts of my irl name!) which is basically a chimera already, and the combination of primary colours, rainbows, and a cloud-like wool mane made the weather theme just happen.

Obviously I just had to sew this! He already looked just like a colourful baby toy.

Here is his lovely little face. I took style inspiration from a lion toy I had already, and to keep him accurate to a baby-toy style, I used embroidery stitches to make his face rather than any “choking hazards” like plastic eyes. I’ve not really used embroidery before so it was pretty hard to do neatly!

He’s also got ribbon loops for whiskers (or are they sun rays?) and you can also see a bit of star-textured minky fabric on his face and ears. Fun textures are important!

His mane is made with a super soft and fluffy fur fabric. Maybe not strictly “baby safe” since it can slightly shed fibres, but it’s very nice, and I’m not exactly a real baby lol. His horns have a nice ridged texture, you’ll see what those were made from in a moment…

Oh, I also added a banana scent chip from Build-a-Bear into his little head, because I love that smell. He’s a multi-sensory plush alright.

His front paws have some noises in them! In the red one is a squeaker, and the blue one is a rattle. You can buy these especially for putting in toys, but the rattle I used in him was actually just a little plastic capsule with a few beads inside like pictured!

All four paws have a bumpy rubbery texture on them. Rather appropriately, they are made from actual baby socks! I found a multipack of different colours that matched my planned colours perfectly by sheer luck.

The ridged horn material came from the top of the red sock!

Here is the tummy, also made with a star textured fabric. It has a cylindrical chime inside which makes a lovely musical jingling sound when he’s tipped around.

While bean filling probably isn’t baby safe either, I did put a beanbag in his bottom because I like a bit of weight and it helps him sit nice.

The wings have matching dimple textured minky on one side and smooth minky on the other. I feel like dimple minky is a must if you want to make a babyish toy!

Inside the wings are some pieces of (clean) cereal packet to give them a light crinkle sound. You can buy crinkly material especially for this too, which can be a lot noisier! He’s actually very quiet as crinkly toys go, but I’m okay with this.

He’s got some little raindrop patches made from dotty cotton, with more embroidered edges which I recall having a lot of difficulty with… looks good though! As well as textures, you gotta include some fun visual patterns in a baby toy too.

And finally, the tail! A thick rainbow ribbon holding a cloud shaped teether - another lucky find in a baby shop! It came attached to a squeaky sun and crinkly rainbow, currently held by another toy.

Originally I’d simply stitched the end of the ribbon in place around the teether, but then I got some plastic snaps (for making bandanas with!) and found they gave it a much nicer finish.

And that’s about it! Hope you enjoyed getting to know the little chimera and his features!

#plushie advice #baby toy #sensory toy #thyl-ask-ine #chimera

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asordinaryppl · 5 months

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A3! Backstage Story Translation - Tasuku Takato SR: A Rare Drunk Day - Part 2

Tsumugi: Tasuku, we're here. Put your arm around my neck.

Tasuku: Uuu...

Taxi driver: Will you be okay?

Tsumugi: I'm sorry, we'll be okay. Thank you very much.

Tsumugi: Hup...!

Tsumugi: Y-You're heavy... Tasuku, we're almost home, so do your best to walk a little...!

Tasuku: ... Yeah.

Fuyuki: Woah, I thought I heard talking out here...

Tsumugi: Fuyuki-kun...! Tasuku got drunk...

Tasuku: ...

Fuyuki: How did he get so wasted...

Fuyuki: He's heavy, isn't he? I'll take him.

Tsumugi: Thanks...!

Fuyuki: Up you go.

Fuyuki: Thanks for bringing him till here, Tsumu.

Fuyuki: Your club had that drinking party today, right?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Tasuku didn't look drunk at all, so our senpai made him drink a lot...

Tsumugi: He looked fine the whole time, but he was actually quite drunk. I brought him back home because he started acting strange.

Fuyuki: Haha, Tasuku's an actor even when he's drunk.

Tsumugi: Geez, that's not what you should be taking out of this!

[Flashback ends]

Tsumugi: ... And that's what happened.

Itaru: So just now too, he was pretty drunk even though he looked fine.

Tsumugi: I think so.

Fuyuki: Hey, Tsumu. You got any hair ties?

Tsumugi: I don't have any. But you can probably find some on that shelf over there...

Itaru: I have one. I went to the convenience store to buy capsule toys and one of them had a hair tie.

Itaru: It has a KniRoun character on it, but if that's fine with you...

Fuyuki: Is it okay if I use something that belongs to you, Itaru-kun?

Itaru: I've got about 13 of them, so it's alright.

Fuyuki: Haha, that's a lot.

Itaru: It's the result of my daily gacha pulling.

Tsumugi: What are you going to use the hair tie for, Fuyuki-kun?

Fuyuki: Oh, I was thinking of tying Tasuku's bangs.

Itaru: Eh, his bangs?

Tsumugi: Won't Tasuku get mad when he wakes up?

Fuyuki: That's my goal.

Fuyuki: Tasuku will hate it, so I'll tie his bangs to show him he shouldn't drink to the point of passing out...

Itaru: I see. I'm good at tying bangs, so would you let me do it?

Fuyuki: Huh, you're good at it?

Itaru: Yes, I'm used to it.

Fuyuki: Then, please do.

Itaru: Leave it to me.

Tasuku: *Snore*...

Itaru: ... How does this look?

Fuyuki: Haha, that's good. When he wakes up and realizes his bangs are tied, he'll probably hate it. He'll learn from this and be careful for the time being.

Itaru: He kind of looks like me when I'm in the dorm.

Tsumugi: Hehe, he does.

Fuyuki: Well then. I'll carry Tasuku back to his room and then go back home.

Tsumugi: I can't let you do that when you're our guest, Fuyuki-kun.

Tsumugi: Itaru-kun, let's carry Tasuku together.

Itaru: Nah, I think that's impossible for us.

Tsumugi: Let's not think like that and do our best!

Itaru: Eugh...

Tsumugi: I'll take the left side, so you get the right side, Itaru-kun.

Itaru: Are you fr....

Tsumugi: Ready? One, two...!

Itaru: Ugh...

Tsumugi: H-Heavy...

Tasuku: ...

Itaru: Damn, h-he's not budging at all...! Could it be... Tasuku's a rock?

Tsumugi: More like he's nothing but muscles...

Fuyuki: Haha, I'll just carry him after all.

Itaru: ... I'm sorry, please do.

Tsumugi: Sorry, Fuyuki-kun.

Fuyuki: It's okay. He's my precious little brother, leave him to me.

Fuyuki: Then, I'll take Tasuku to his room. Hup...

Tasuku: Mh...? ... Aniki?

Fuyuki: It's okay, just sleep.

Tasuku: *Snore*...

part 1 | part 2

#a3!#translation #a3! translation #tasuku takato #itaru chigasaki #tsumugi tsukioka #fuyuki takato

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mothmothm0th · 11 months

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Consider: You’re at a space port.

The bustling kind, of course. Folks buzzing about, people chattering interminably. You hear languages you’ll never be able to comprehend. You just lack the organs. In the distance, the rumble of short range engines coming online. Some cocksure pilot brings their craft real close to the terminal’s glass pane wall. You know the ship would lose in a fight against the station architecture but you’re not really eager to have that knowledge put to the test. Oh, but it’s a long ship.

You glance down at your fob watch. It’s just under a thousand units till boarding, which means time to muck about. Grab hold of your suitcase. Walk down the corridors. On either wall, covering the faux-oxidised faux-copper adornments, advertisements in faux-neon buzz-hummed away. You can’t even read the text on any of them. The borgyloid seems happy, though. Might be a borgiakin, come to think of it. Are those teeth? Maybe they’re mouth claws. Oh, oh! That font’s actually kind of interesting! It’s made up of human arms! How quirky! And that must mean the red accents on the letters are... yes! You look closely and realise that really is blood! Oh, rather makes sense now, does it not? The borgyloids are humanity’s closest extrasolar trading partners. Figuratively closest, of course. But no one wants to linger on those centaurite nerds when there’s borgyloid culture to admire! How exquisite! You will admit, it’s a little unnerving at first how their primary expression of joyful communion translates to something like “let us eat your arms in a non-metaphorical way, may we have your arms to eat.” It’s just something you have to get used to, like the slight lag of a robot arm. Ah, but it’s time to move on.

Your trilby expresses relief. You’re at your platform. When did your hat learn to express emotion? It’s been such a long day, such a long day indeed. You dream of laying down in bed planetside. Here on the station, there’s too many different kinds of humming. The life support systems, your room AI, the handheld generator for your robot arm charger... It’s too much! You want to go back home! Back home, where the only humming you hear are the AC, your PC, and your hand-holding robot arm charger. Besides, it’s much nicer to be kept up by roadworks or your neighbours than sub-audible pressure cavitations. It really is!

Oh. Your ship’s been delayed. Kessler cloud in low orbit over Europe. How silly of them, those pre-commercial space travel humans. People used to be so silly. They shot too many sharp bits and bobs in space. Entirely too much. How silly. Still, it’s generally considered the smarter option to avoid making contact with sharp bits and bobs, especially when they’re travelling at orbital speeds. So, you entirely understand. But your arm charger waits for you at home. It so beckons, waving at you. Oh, if only it could... oh, but that would be naughty. It might not be best practice to have thoughts like that. Not just because you’ll have to go buy a ticket for a capsule bed this evening, it seems, but because people generally do not have thoughts like that about their home appliances. Well, except for the ones that call you husband and or wife, hoh hoh!

There, the capsule kiosk. Its yellow extravagance is a poor match with its plastic construction. Still, what can you do? Well, the bored teenaged girl on the pixellated screen tells you you can pay up or shut up in between her two-frame chewing animation cycles. You do, but you promise to give the girl a bad review. She does not respond. You pick up your suitcase, which the lil kid with the Dickensian accent promises should weigh exactly the same as before you left it out of sight for thirty units of time. What a lovely lad. Lass. One of the two. Or maybe a third thing. Kids these days with their organs.

No one’s called the capsule corrals “hotels” in thirty cycles. The brochures might, but not even the big sign at the entrance does. Some clever clog had gotten to the “t” and the “l”, it seems. Or perhaps it was just the slow decay, the passage of time. Regardless, you clamber to your capsule. Into the compartment your suitcase goes and with a press of a button, your capsule enters bath mode. The pod fills to the brim with water before you can say “claustrophobia” (which is only a good thing since you wouldn’t want to be caught with your mouth open) and flushes itself before you can think the words “fear of drowning”. You swap your now sopping wet clothes with your suitcase. If you cannot have your hand-holder, you would at least be able to enjoy your handheld.

You open your suitcase. A large stone approximately the size of a small handheld robot arm charger falls in your lap. Attached is a note: “Fanks, guv’na!” At least they said fanks.

#flash fiction #not empty spaces #sci fi #why did i write this #i mean it was mostly stream of consciousness #help

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naquey · 6 months

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Thousand Years

Severinus Lyall sees how miserable his father is. He struggles as a single father and fights for the rights of werewolves. He knows what it's like to be alone and decides to snoop through some of his old things to set him up on a date with someone.

a/n: yes, I was thinking of A Thousand Years by Christina Perri because I felt it was fitting for their dynamic.

Cassander came home early in the morning, crashing on the couch. He buries his face into one of the throw pillows and falls asleep when his head hits the pillow. It is vaguely stiff and uncomfortable, but it is a welcome comfort after his day at the ministry.

Severinus stayed up that night to catch his father on the way home. He frowned and pulled the blanket over his dad, who was lying on the couch. It had been like this since his parents got a divorce. He never came home to an empty house, but by the way he acted, Cassander might as well have come home to an empty house. Year-round, while he was off at school, it was like that. Sev couldn't help but worry about his old man. Even being a werewolf was an isolating experience.

"Night, Dad, I love you." He whispered.

Severinus never went into the attic. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to. He never had the opportunity when he was away. The ladder creaked as he climbed it, dust coating his fingers and making them feel fuzzy and gross. He grimaced and wiped it on his pajamas.

He had only seen the attic, which was small and filled with boxes and trunks, broken furniture, and other things that wouldn't fit in the house. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell, and the tip illuminated the space before him. He cracked open a cardboard box closest to him, hovering the light over the contents. It was mainly photo albums. Wiping the dust off the covers, he opened them to find photos of him as a baby. A wave of nostalgia hit him. When he was younger, his father was happiest.

After leaving that box, he decided to open another one. At the top of the box was a Hufflepuff scarf, which smelled like old age and dust. He set it aside and reached into the box for something else. It was a yearbook with the Hogwarts school crest on it. His eyes sparkled, and a smile widened across his face.

Quickly, he opened the yearbook and started flipping through it. He looked through portraits and chuckled about seeing people's parents and teachers. The book was like a time capsule. He stopped at the signatures on the back page; very few people had signed his father's yearbook. One of them was Remus Lupin.

I just know you'll make it big on a quidditch team. You're one of a kind. -R.J. Lupin

Something fell out between the pages. Severinus put the book down and picked it up, hovering his wand over the piece of parchment. Unfolding it, he discovered very scratchy handwriting. It was a note passed back and forth during class. His father was passing notes with Remus. The conversation started with homework but divulged how meeting each other made them feel less alone. He gasped as a lightbulb flashed in his head.

The following day, he was up bright and earlier talking on the phone with Arcturus Black; he had been convinced to buy a muggle phone because it was quicker than sending letters back and forth.

"I'm telling you, my dad really likes him. This would be a good opportunity for them.

"I... I don't know. Remus hasn't left Grimmauld place for a while, so this would be a reason to get him outside.

"It's a win-win! We set him up on a date with my dad, and he no longer sulks around."

"And is the date doesn't work?" Arcturus asked.

"Then it doesn't work, I don't have a plan B." Severinus shrugged.

"I doubt they'll agree to go out on a date with one another. How would we even get them in the same place?"

"Oh! There's this tea shop at Diagon Alley that sells pastries and chocolates. What if we say we want to go out and do something with them?"

"Well, Remus does like spending time with me." Arcturus sighed.

"It's foolproof!"

"What's fool-proof?" Cassander asked. His son didn't hear him come downstairs.

"Nothing! Breakfast?"

The blonde quickly put the phone back on the wall, smiling sheepishly as he held a plate of waffles. Cassander narrowed his eyes.

"You're planning something. Out with it."

"Fine, okay." Severinus frowned. "I've been missing spending time with you, and I was wondering if you wanted to go to this tea shop at Diagon Alley with me?"

Cassander blinked twice, taken back.

"You want to spend time with me?" His eyes sparkled, and he looked so hopeful.

"Yeah!"

Severinus was suddenly starting to regret lying to his father.

Seeing that his son wanted to spend more time with him, Cassander was far happier than he had been in the last two months. He was smiling, and there was this twinkle in his eye. At some angles, it almost looked like the stress had disappeared, and he no longer aged like leather in the sun. It hurt Sev to see his father so happy and refreshed. He knew that he would ditch him to watch him and Remus from a distance once they got there. In a way, this plan of his felt wrong.

Cassander excused himself from the table to go to the counter and order some pastries. His eyes lingered on the chocolate for a moment. It was always the happiest and could brighten anyone's day. Whenever he felt sad, Remus would always hand him a piece of chocolate, even sneaking it during their transfiguration classes. Like Roan, he hadn't heard anything from Remus in a long time. Not after he taught at Hogwarts for a year. Severinus was bursting at the seams when he found out his teacher was a werewolf. He kept those letters tucked away in his office, reading them when he felt things were worsening. It made him content to know that his son was happy and wasn't alone.

"Cassander?"

Surprised but primarily embarrassed, he whipped around to see Remus Lupin. The man he was just thinking of. His robes didn't hang off his body anymore and were patched in a way that made them look neater than the clothes he wore himself. His palms got sweaty, and his mouth went dry, so he could not respond. Meeting him here wasn't something he planned for, he didn't expect anyone he knew to be in Diagon Alley today. His eyes darted over to the table he and Sev were at, only to see that his kiddo wasn't there anymore.

"Remus! How are you?" He cleared his throat, hoping the crack in his voice wasn't too noticeable.

"Yeah, I've been doing well. What about you?"

Cassander wanted to run away and hide. Small talk was most undoubtedly awkward.

"Working hard or hardly working, am I right?" Cassander chuckled awkwardly.

Remus chuckled. "Have you been here before?"

"No, actually. Sev introduced it to me."

"Snape?" Cassander didn't notice the dejection written on the other's face.

"No, no. My son."

"Ah, Severinus. How is he? It's been a while since I've last talked to him."

"He's doing well. You know, he is trying to help his friend uncover secrets about the Black family. Usual teenager things."

"Roan's told me a bit about that, I don't understand why she doesn't just tell him."

"I know, right? If I were her, I would love to tell my son that his father was Regulus Black and preserve a bit of him."

"She's scared of his reaction, of how he'll view his father."

"I get it... Kids deserve to see their parents in a positive light."

Cassander relaxed slightly. He let his anxiety and nerves wash away. Despite not planning any of this, he was okay. It was unforeseen, but it is going well so far. Neither are running away or getting into a spat.

"How's Sirius?" he cringed, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Cassander wanted to take it back when Remus tensed up, his smile faltering.

"We're still... It's a bit rocky. He's- It's complicated."

"I'll take it as you decided to date him, finally?"

"What? No. We've been best friends for years, and- " Remus paused. "Are you suggesting I ask him out?"

"No, no, no, no." Cassander shook his head quickly. "Not unless you want to!" He smiled and laughed awkwardly again.

The poor girl behind the cash register interrupted them to take his order, but Remus swooped in and paid for him before he could pay. Their teas and some chocolate were ordered together. Cassander felt like a teenager again. It was silly to blush and fidget. He was a grown man. This was different from anyone of his age.

"Remus, I could have- "

"Since your son abandoned you, why not join me? Arcturus excused himself a while ago to go find Severinus."

"But Sev was going to." Despair flashed through his eyes for a second, but he took a deep breath. "Thank you, Rem."

They sat down at a table and talked for hours. Arcturus and Severinus were in a corner holding menus up to hide their faces, peeking around the menus occasionally to see what was happening. The boys remarked that the men looked the most relaxed they had ever been in years. Cassander genuinely laughed at something Remus said and even blushed in some instances.

"I can't believe you said that to the Minister's face. You have quite the gall." Cassander shook his head, a grin on his face.

"It's not like I work for him, and you don't either, so why does it matter?"

"Right, right. He is a wanker. I mean, who denies werewolves' rights? We're people, too."

"Are you... Are you still fighting for that cause?" Remus asked hesitantly.

"Of course I am! For generations, werewolves have been denied the most basic rights. I want people afflicted with lycanthrope to have jobs and live unafraid of who they are."

"You're stronger than me," Remus remarked.

"No, you are the strongest person I know. I got it from you."

"What? How? I haven't done anything remarkable or-"

"You were unafraid to be yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Remus, I'm going to be honest. I've admired you since the day I met you." Cassander admitted. "You were like me, and in a way that felt less damming because at least I wasn't struggling alone until your friends turned into animagi. Then I was alone again, but that's not the point! The point is, I'm unashamed when I say I love you. I care about you, and you inspire me."

Remus straightened his posture.

"We were kids- "

"I know." Cassander sucked in a breath. "I only say it now because I was unsure of how to say it back then. I kept that part of myself under lock and key, and the lavender marriage actually helped me to see it for myself."

"Lavendar marriage? I'm not familiar with the term."

"Tonks told me what it was, a marriage between two people pretending to be straight. Except Lilia was in love with me, but I couldn't love her the way I wanted. The way I love you."

"You divorced her because of me?"

"No, I divorced her because I didn't want to subject myself to a loveless and meaningless marriage just for the sake of making my old, dusty parents happy. And because she treated my son horribly."

"I don't- I don't know what to say." Remus looked down, staring pointedly at the tea cup almost as if it were going to sprout legs and started walking away. He was bashful, and being confronted with such a bold statement made him a little embarrassed.

Remus couldn't see why someone would love him when he couldn't love himself. There were no qualities of his that were nice, or attractive. He was a blood thirsty monster once the full moon came, but Cassander was too. Maybe after all his friends dying this was the way the world was tying to tell him that he wasn't alone again. That he could fall back on someone and let them take care of him instead of running around trying to take care of everyone else.

Severinus and Arcturus got bored of watching after a while, nothing eventful was happening. Sure, they listened in but it wasn't anything juicy enough to keep their attention. They had sneaked away a long time ago. Long after Remus and Cassander had finished their tea and the chocolates. They had sat in silence for a moment, taking in what the other way saying. Examining how they were feeling. When they got to the door Remus held it open with a lopsided smile.

"To be quite honest, I would like to go on another date."

"Wh- This was a date?!"

Remus blinked twice.

"I assumed you knew Severinus and Arcturus set this up."

"I didn't assume anything, Sev said he wanted to spend time with me. I- I can't believe this was a date."

"Why? Was it bad?" That cloud nine feeling Remus had been holding on to suddenly crashed to earth in the most violent way possible.

"No, no, no, no. It was good! I just- I didn't plan to bump into you."

"Perhaps fate had something to do with it, and those cheeky kids."

"I would love another date." Cassander let out a breath, smoothing down his clothes. "Does next weekend work for you?"

"My schedule is mostly empty because I'm no longer a teacher." Remus chuckled.

"Next weekend it is!"

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naturallygoals · 18 days

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bigbrainkatrina · 1 year

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Operation: Save Byleth! - a Black Eagles Spy AU fic

Agent Byleth Eisner is kidnapped by Those Who Slither in the Dark after a mission to destroy nuclear launch codes is botched. Thankfully for Arundel, Byleth knows the codes and he intends on selling those codes to Rhea.

But the Black Eagle Strike Forces leaves no one behind. Edelgard will do everything in her power to save her beloved.

At 1400 hours, the high speed bullet train will depart from Garreg Mach Academy Station to Enbarr. The journey takes thirty minutes. In this time, Arundel (Codename: Thales) will meet with Rhea (Codename: Immaculate One) and make a business transaction. Rhea’s buying nuclear launch codes, Arundel is just taking money.

But it’s not that simple. Never is.

One month prior, Agent Byleth Eisner was captured by Those Who Slither in the Dark. From insider intel, Team Leader Edelgard von Hresvelg has determined that Byleth is still alive and will be onboard the, sealed off in a capsule that can only be opened by a passcode.

What Rhea doesn’t know is the launch codes were destroyed. The only one who knows them is Byleth. Rhea thinks she is buying a stack of papers when really she’s buying a human vessel. The stakes have never been higher.

Edelgard gets up from her seat at the back of the train. Brown wig and sunglasses. High waisted suit pants and a red blouse to her black blazer. She makes her way through the train. “Is everyone in position?” she whispers.

“ Yes! ” Bernadetta squeaks, crouched besides Byleth’s container surrounded by mission gear.

“ Affirmative, Lady Edelgard ,” Hubert coos into his mic. “ Dorothea and Petra accounted for as well .” They are a mile out, prepared to steal a helicopter at any given moment.

“Don’t move until my signal,” Edelgard mutters. “Linhardt?”

“ Yes, ” he feigns a yawn. He’s the guy in the van. “ Caspar’s practicing his punches but he’s with me .”

“He doesn’t need to practice,” Edelgard snips.

“ You tell him that .”

“Fine,” Edelgard rolls her eyes and then narrows them. “Ferdinand?”

“ Yes ,” Ferdinand says and there is a heavy pause. Everyone waits with bated breath. “ I’ll admit though… ”

And everyone groans.

Ferdinand continues, “ I do not understand why I cannot work on the field. I’m very good and —”

“Ferdie,” Edelgard hisses between her teeth. “You are superior to driving a bullet train when compared to me. Please.”

Another pause. “ So I am! I shall add this to my list. ”

“Good,” Edelgard mutters and steps forward. She almost calls for Byleth’s confirmation out of instinct but she knows it’s futile.

Soon my love. Soon .

From afar, Edelgard can see the tops of Arundel’s balding scalp and Rhea’s elegant, emerald hair. Their heads bob up and down, deep in conversation. Quick round of poison darts and it’ll look they’re sleeping like the other passengers. Edelgard steals the briefcase and mission accomplished. She steps forward and something grabs her by the hand. Her shoulders retract like bat wings and she whirls around.

“Edelgard?!” Dimitri decrees. He leans back, a fake mustache under his nose. With the thick glasses, he looks ridiculous. “What are you doing here? Can you believe it, Claude?”

Edelgard looks back. Arundel shifts to get up and she swipes off her wig, kicking it under Dimitri’s chair. “Compromised, Code Red,” she whispers.

Claude raises an eyebrow playfully. “Ooh, Big D, why’d you do that?”

Dimitri blinks. “I don’t understand.”

Edelgard could rip his face off. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Dimitri looks to Claude. “My good friend, Claude, just asked me to wear this silly outfit and get on a train with him.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “We’re working . And so is Edelgard, apparently separate from us.”

Dimitri lets out a hearty chuckle. “Well, there you are. So what’s the scheme, friends?”

“I’m not working with you,” Edelgard snips.

“Be calm,” Claude grabs Dimitri’s thigh as Arundel appears from behind.

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite nephew,” Arundel says with that usually oily slick that hardly passes for anything kind. “And Edelgard. What are you doing here?”

Edelgard catches Arundel’s side eye fast. “Just visiting my father in Enbarr.”

Arundel doesn’t flinch. “With your Academy friends? Last I heard, the three of you had a big fight.”

Claude leans, blocking Dimitri out of view. “It be like that sometimes. We just bumped into each other, and it’s pretty awkward.”

“ Edelgard, nooooo! ” Bernadetta screams so loud into Edelgard’s radio she’s afraid Arundel will hear. But if he does, his face stays as smooth as ever.

“Uncle, we should catch up!” Edelgard smiles. “We land in ten minutes, it shouldn’t be too much of a strain on you.”

Arundel shakes his head and swats at the air in annoyance. “Fine.”

He trails ahead and Edelgard follows, silently praying that Berandetta can come up with something — anything — else.

“ Edelgard, ” Bernadetta. “ X-Ray glove. Back right pocket. ”

Thank God. Bernie’s best when alone and surrounded by her gadgets.

Edelgard smiles to herself and discreetly reaches for it. It’s a thin screen that fits across her palm, and like an X-Ray, it can see through the surfaces of things it’s on. Powered by heat. She slides into the booth besides Arundel and locks eyes with Rhea, a briefcase on the table between them.

Rhea’s baby soft face twists into harsh lines immediately. “Edelgard.”

“Yes, yes,” Arundel drawls. “Edelgard. Don’t lie to me.”

Rhea leans back with a pleasant smirk, harsh lines already gone. “Did Edelgard used to work for you, Arundel?”

“Yes, for a long time,” Arundel coos, playfully scratching Edelgard’s chin like she’s a cat. “She resigned after she fell desperately in love with that former ward of yours, Byleth was it?”

Rhea looks like a child sitting on Santa’s lap. “You have bad taste in partners.”

Edelgard sticks her tongue out.

Arundel continues, “And in my mercy, I let her live with the request she leaves the country and yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Rhea repeats.

Edelgard sighs.

“ Tell him you want to work for him again, ” Dorothea says pointblank. Dorothea: Master Masquerader. Perfect partner in crime to Hubert. “ That you realized in your isolation that it was a mistake to walk. ”

Edelgard can hear choking in the background of the call. Definitely Hubert chloroforming without the signal.

Edelgard looks to Arundel and places one hand on his knuckle and tells him just that.

Arundel cocks an eyebrow in amusement. “Is that to?”

“Oh please,” Rhea crosses her arms. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for that.”

Arundel glows. “Rhea, you don’t know Edelgard like I do. She’s quite proud of herself. Tell me about your friends. Have you kept in touch and are you ready to kill every last one of them?”

Edelgard double takes. “Why are my friends targets?”

“Because I detest you,” Arundel presses his teeth together. “Tell me you’ll kill them.”

Edelgard nods and stretches her arms high in the air, it’s incredibly awkward. She yawns and wow, it almost makes her cringe. What a horrible performance.

“ I am also a better actor than Edelgard! ” Ferdinand chimes in with inspiration.

Roasted. Edelgard rests her elbow on the table, hand falling onto the briefcase. She keeps her body open and vulnerable to Arundel, so he could shoot her if he wanted to.

Rhea slaps Edelgard’s hand away from the briefcase. “Don’t touch that you awful girl!”

Edelgard retracts her hand, hoping that gave Bernie enough of a reading.

In the backroom, Bernadetta drops at least five things as the code flashes on her reader.

6-1-9-5-8-0.

She runs to the capsule and begins mashing buttons. Please be it, please be it…

Mid speech about her new allegiance, there is a soft click from underneath the table. Only one of Rhea’s hands is visible. She cocks an eyebrow. “Arundel, you take Edelgard back to Those Who Slither, and we don’t have a deal.”

Arundel turns to Edelgard and laughs. “Well, then. Poo poo to you then, my child. I assume you are about to poison her with that gun.”

“Any sudden movement and yes, I will,” Rhea might as well lick her lips at this point.

Edelgard leans back, eyes frosty. “Rhea, do you know what’s in this briefcase?”

“It’s paperwork,” Arundel answers, a little too fast. Ha, Edelgard knew it. She knew Rhea didn’t know.

And Rhea notices Arundel’s haste.

Out in the backroom, the code flashes red. Every single time she tries it. 6-1-9-5-8-0. 6-1-9-5-8-0. 6-1-9-5-8-0.

6-1-9-5-8-0.

Red red red red red RED RED RED RED.

“ Edelgard, I need a second read, ” Bernadetta squeaks.

“ Hold on ,” Linhardt cuts in. “ Let me take a look, hold it in front of your cam please. ”

Edelgard smiles to herself, and speaks very slowly. “I’d explain Rhea, but unfortunately we’re about to pull up in Enbarr. Oh, if only we had more time. ”

Up at front, Ferdinand repeats that to himself. “If only we had more time… oh no, she doesn’t mean…”

“ Yes, ” Hubert says fast, always first to criticize Ferdinand. “ Miss the stop .”

“But I practiced so hard!” Ferdinand whines. “It’s my landings that make me superb at—”

“ I will burn your tea collection. Oh and Lady Edelgard will die if you don’t. ”

“...very well.”

“In the backroom,” Edelgard starts with a coy ass smile. “Is Byleth. They’re alive, trapped in a capsule, and they have the nuclear codes. Arundel is merely selling you the code to open that capsule… you will need to transport Byleth and get the codes from them.”

Rhea looks to Arundel very slowly and her voice is sharp as icicles. “Is that so.”

“ Bernie ,” Linhardt says, jolting Bernadetta back to reality. “ You had the code upside down. Try again. ”

“Oh,” Bernie’s face goes so red, at least no one can see. “Don’t tell anyone.”

0-8-2-6-1-9.

The capsule opens and Byleth flops forward, landing in Berandetta’s arms, knocking the two of them to the floor.

Bernadetta rolls over and looks at them. They’re pale, skin sweaty and clammy. Just black slacks and a loose white blouse that looks very lived-in. It’s what they had on when they got captured. “Byleth…”

Byleth’s wide eyes snap open and their limbs move like noodles. “I’m drugged,” they croak, reaching out with their hand. “Adrenaline. Now. While you set it up, explain what happened.”

“ Ooh, Caspar, get ready, ” Linhardt chides. “ Welcome back, friend. ”

Byleth smiles through the pain. “Operation Uppercut?”

Caspar then proceeds to blow out everyone’s ears with a mighty “ OPERATION UPPERCUT HUAAAAH!”

Everyone on the train starts screaming at once as Enbarr station zooms past in view. Both Arundel and Rhea turn to see the commotion, and that gives Edelgard the chance. She slips halfway under the table and wraps her ankles around Rhea’s calves, yanking her under, Rhea’s chin smashing against the table and drawing blood.

“Okay,” Bernadetta winces as she prepares the adrenaline shot. “Caspar, stop swinging! I need them to stay still.”

“ Sorry. Excited. ”

Byleth’s hands drop to their thighs, encased in iron gloves synced with Caspar in the van. He swings, Byleth swings in sync with him.

It gives Byleth the fighting prowess they’ll need when drugged like this. Even the adrenaline can’t help that.

Needle goes in and Byleth howls like a Wall Street tycoon reeling from a bump. They pat Bernie on the side and sprint out the door.

Bernadetta goes to a crouch again. “Hubert… we need the helicopter I think.”

“Of course we do,” Dorothea laughs into her walkie, standing over the dashboard. “Sorry, Hubie’s indisposed.”

Besides her, the final security guard is making out hard with Hubert’s poison lips, and then slumps.

“I hate leading people on,” Hubert groans, looking out the window. Petra’s already on board and lifting off. “ETA five minutes.”

Byleth runs like Hell, stumbling through absolutely everything. But they have speed and they blaze ahead. Even if it takes grabbing onto passing seats to stay afloat, they do it.

It’s El after all.

Byleth sees Edelgard going hand to hand with Rhea — who of course is an expert grappler — and with Arundel who only knows how to look cool like he’s fighting hand-to-hand.

Caspar swings so hard that the punches literally propel Byleth forward, and they make such short work of Arundel, Byleth is embarrassed for them. The guy just bounces around like a ragdoll and hits the floor, bleeding from everywhere he can. People are screaming and backing off as the fight with Rhea gets wild.

“Byleth!” Dimitri calls out from the back. “Byleth, do you see me? It’s me, Dimitri!”

“D,” Claude whispers. “Even if Edelgard gets what she wants out of this, a shit ton of people are watching. Black Eagle Strike Force is compromised… and the jobs go to us.”

Dimitri shoots Claude a look. “Claude.” He holds this gaze for a long time and Claude looks away.

So Dimitri grabs Claude by the chin and makes them lock eyes. “I’m upset with Edelgard too, for refusing to collaborate with us. But she’s our friend and was under a lot of pressure back then. Have a heart.”

“God dammit,” Claude says in a tiny voice, and pulls out his briefcase from underneath, and hands Dimitri a gun with a satellite dish on the end. “It’ll knock everyone out and wipe memories. Move fast.”

Dimitri holds the gun to his face and nods.

Byleth gets between Rhea and Edelgard, clobbers at Rhea. God they hate Rhea.

Their fists match and crash into each other, and even though Byleth has iron on and Rhea is bare fisted, she just doesn’t seem phased.

Byleth is pretty sure the woman is on some kind of steroid — and it’s killing the circuitry to the gloves. That becomes obvious when one of their arms just loses all sense of direction and flops over, with the rest of Byleth.

Rhea yanks Byleth in by the blouse and trains a regular gun on Edelgard’s head. She smirks. “What’s your exit?”

Edelgard doesn’t say anything.

Byleth coughs and looks over to their beloved El. A long hard look. No tears, just a quiet nod.

“Helicopter,” Edelgard grunts.

“Good,” Rhea backs up. “You follow me. No funny shit. And tell your driver to slow this train down so we don’t fall off.”

“Ferdie, did you catch that?” Edelgard asks.

“ Yes, ” Ferdinand tells her with some sorrow. “ Edelgard, you are the superior field agent and you will make this work. ”

Petra flies over the train, kicking out the rope ladder to run along the carts. She dips down and God this is dangerous. She is just skimming the trees but that is what it takes to save Byleth.

She doesn’t even know if they’re coming with her; walkie died when she hit the air.

So she sighs with some relief when Byleth stumbles over the top of the train. They all expected Byleth to be drugged up, so that makes sense that they can barely stand.

Though it does fill Petra with rage.

And it makes her even more angry when Rhea climbs onto the top, holding something that is almost certainly a gun. She kicks Byleth in the stomach and they roll over, fingers feebly gripping onto the metal plates to hang on.

And then Edelgard comes on. The gun is on Edelgard.

“Stop hurting them!” Edelgard screams, lunging at Rhea, backing off when the gun levels with her chest. “You’re awful.”

“Eh,” Rhea snarks, lifting Byleth up by the hair.

Edelgard winces, fists curled up. There is nothing she can do here.

The rope ladder lowers and Rhea hurls Byleth into it. “Climb, you idiot.”

Byleth hangs there for a second, corpse-like, and then finally starts moving. They climb slowly, but Rhea doesn’t seem to mind. She’s got the gun, she’s got the power, and she can still have one hand on the ladder so there’s no easy out for Petra.

When Rhea feels good, she latches on and waves Petra off.

The helicopter pulls away, it’s up to Petra now to save Byleth. It’s out of Edelgard’s hands.

Fuck that’s not fair.

Rhea still has a gun, and she catches up with Byleth fast. Petra can’t even cut the ladder before Rhea makes it.

A good agent would just crash the helicopter and kill the three of them. That’s how Arundel runs his ops, it’s how most people do it.

But the Black Eagle Strike Force is different. Petra is different.

Edelgard sprints down the train, fighting the velocity that wants to throttle her into roadkill. She uses everything she has and leaps off the train, grabbing onto the bottom rung of the rope ladder, dangling from it as it pulls hundreds of feet into the air.

Don’t look down , she says as she does that very thing. Her whole body waves in the wind but she is not dying here. She reaches up and grabs the second rung. She pulls up and she moves.

Rhea hasn’t noticed yet.

Edelgard moves far faster than recommended, nearly slipping off five times. But she moves faster than a normal person would and it’s not long before she catches up with Byleth and Rhea, all three of them at the top of the ladder.

Edelgard grips Rhea’s ankle hard, and pulls really fucking hard.

Rhea screams and falls off of Byleth, flying off the ladder—

—and grips onto Edelgard’s ankle, taking her with her.

The wood burns and shreds Edelgard’s palms as she is torn down the entire rope ladder, but she manages t hold the fuck on. Bleeding palms and all, Edelgard hangs from the bottom rung again, Rhea holding onto Edelgard’s ankle, Rhea’s entire body weighing down on bleeding hands that are about to tear into two.

Edelgard doesn’t know what to do. She can’t move, her whole body is at capacity. This is it. She looks up, Byleth makes it into the helicopter at least. Good. They deserve to live.

And then Byleth leaps out of the helicopter and throttles towards them.

It’s a massive drop, but Agent Byleth Eisner pulls it off with splender, dropkicking Rhea in her stupid face. Rhea’s scream is ear splitting and can only be heard for a half second before she drops out of range.

Byleth catches the final rung at the last minute and that’s it. That’s the mission.

Edelgard glances down. She can’t help it, she wants to see that body hit the ground—oh no, maybe she doesn’t. That’s gross. Don’t do that.

She looks to Byleth whose face is twisted in agony.

“I just broke my fucking foot,” Byleth moans. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…”

Edelgard feels the pain too. She grits her teeth and throws her arms through the rung and hooks in by the armpits. It hurts like a bitch, but at least that area of her body isn’t torn yet. They’ll land soon.

Edelgard looks to Byleth. “Focus on my eyes, my love.”

Byleth nods through the tears. “I always am, El.”

“I’m here with you,” Edelgard rasps. “We’re…”

Byleth doesn’t let her finish, they just go for the kiss.

This is the Black Eagle Strike Force. They do missions that no one else can. Fuck the other spy groups, none of them have regrets. Wait. No. Edelgard… does, yeah, she has a regret.

Edelgard looks at the rolling green below, looks at the train. Thinks about the corpse that will be found in a few days. This was Plan B .

There was a Plan A that was so easy and simple. But someone blew her cover.

Byleth kisses Edelgard again and it makes it hard to think.

But Edelgard knows that next time, she is going to text Dimitri and Claude in advance not to show up at her ops.

#fire emblem three houses fic #black eagles #black eagles fic #spy au #spy thriller #fire emblem spy au #edeleth

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nutriherb · 5 years

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dreaming-roses · 3 years

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°˖✧ playtime ✧˖°

Tentacles: Sub!Childe x gn!Reader (NSFW) - Request

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

SUMMARY: You purchase some tentacles and experiment on Childe.

WARNING(S): Tentacles, degrading, name-calling, overstim, exhibitionism, bondage, anal, dacryphilia

CHARACTER(S): Childe

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The idea of buying tentacles was inspired by the 18+ manga series "Your Neighborhood Tentacle Shop" by Okunoha!! Go check it out~

"Childe, come here~" you sang. "I have a surprise for you, darling."

You heard him come down the stairs. "What's up, (y/n)?" He appeared in the doorway, as handsome as ever. "What's that you're holding, dear?" He nodded at your hand.

You smiled. "Remember how you said you wanted to try out some tentacles?" Childe's eyes widened. "Well, I bought some." He came closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he peered at the fist-sized bag, gently tugging it from your hand.

"Whoa. This is a thing? Thank you, (y/n)." He kissed you on the cheek. "So... how do these work?" Childe asked curiously, reading the instructions on the bag of little red capsules. "Oh wait, here we go. 'Dissolve capsules in hot but not boiling water and wait until tentacles begin to squirm. Starting with 3 or less is highly recommended for beginners.' I didn't know these were real. Why three, though?"

"Probably because, y'know, beginners. But maybe you should use more than that," you teased. Childe raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes sparking with amusement. "What? You have pretty good stamina." You flicked his nose playfully.

"You kinky bastard. You just want to watch the show." Childe ripped open the top of the bag and shook at least ten pills into his palm. He picked one up and rolled it dubiously between two fingers, examining the shiny red gelatin shell. "You sure I'll enjoy this, (y/n)?"

"Yep." You smiled at him as you filled up a small cooking pot with heated water. "And so will I."

Childe blushed furiously as he dropped the handful of capsules into the water, avoiding your gaze. "Whoa—" He leaned in, watching the capsules dissolve in the water, revealing little pale pink tentacles that began to absorb the water and grow in size. They began to writhe in the pot, splashing water around as they expanded. "O-Okay, that's actually pretty... big..." He shifted his legs, biting his lower lip. "T-That would probably feel... really good..."

"Are you looking forward to this?" you asked him, smiling as you saw the tent in his pants. Childe nodded, his face adorably red. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Then strip."

"H-Here?" he said incredulously. "In the kitchen?"

"Yep. It's easier to clean up," you explained. "And why not? Look, they're already raring to go." On the counter, the tentacles squirmed around eagerly.

Childe didn't need any more convincing. He began to pull off his jacket and pants, letting them fall to the floor and revealing his cock, already hard and throbbing slightly.

"Good boy," you said approvingly. "Go sit down over there." You grabbed a tentacle with both hands, marveling at the slimy-slick texture as you lifted it out of the bowl. You walked toward Childe, smirking as you saw how his cock was already dripping with precum. "Such a horny little slut." You dropped the tentacle onto him.

"Mmm—ahh—AHH?!" Childe cried out as the tentacle wound itself around his cock, stroking his slit and pumping his length. "Mmmmh—ah—fuck, that's good, that's good—AH—(y/n)—" He moaned, shuddering as the tentacle stimulated his cock.

You sat down on a nearby chair, lounging in it. "Look at you, so fucking pathetic. You want more, you needy whore?" you mocked, already reaching for the pot on the counter.

"Yes! More! Please! Please! Yes..." Childe begged, squirming on the floor. "More!" He arched his back, moaning as the tentacle pumped him. "Hah... more... please, (y/n)..."

You laughed, reaching into the pot and dropping a couple of the thicker ones onto his thighs. "Have fun, slut." The new tentacles wound around his thighs, holding them apart and gently sliding up and down the sensitive skin.

"Ah—nnngh—AH—hah—AH—" Childe wailed as the tentacle rubbed the tip of his cock, his legs trembling. He thrashed on the floor, arching his back. "Gonna cum—gonna cu-um-mmmngh—" Cum spurted out of his cock, landing on the floor between his legs. He threw his head back, panting. "Mmm—ah—ah—more... please..."

"You fucking slut. Begging already aren't you? Begging like a dog," you sneered, tossing the rest of the tentacles onto his shuddering body. "Well, here you go." They began to move over him, making him moan loudly.

"Ah—fuu-uuck—ah—" Childe groaned, his knees shuddering. The tentacle pumped his overstimulated cock, making him wail. "Nngh—just came—ah—" He squirmed on the floor.

"Well, this is a good view," you noted, idly twisting the bag of tentacle capsules between your fingers. "Maybe I should add more. How many is that? Ten? Oh my, you're such a dirty little slut."

"Y-Yes, your slut, I'm your little toy," Childe whimpered as one of the tentacles wound around his wrists, holding his arms in place. "I'm just your—ah—hah—WAIT—" He jerked around the tentacles began to lube up his hole, trailing over his rim before dipping in. It slowly pumped in and out of him before speeding up and brushing his prostate. The tentacles began to pump his cock again, using his cum as lube.

"Ah—mmmh—AH FUCK YES RIGHT THERE YES MORE MOREMOREMORE—" Childe screamed in pleasure as the tentacles began to overstimulate him. He sobbed and thrashed, tears running down his flushed face. "MORE MORE FUCK YES PLEASE—" he cried as he came again, his eyes rolling back in his head as white spurted all over his thighs. "FUCK YES MORE—" He looked at you with crazed, pleading eyes.

"Maybe I should just leave you here for a bit," you mused, getting up from the chair. "Have fun, dearie."

"No! Don't—ah—AH—go," Childe begged. "Play—nnngh—with—me—ah—please..." He squirmed over to you, clutching your leg and looking up at you adorably. "Please... I'm your little toy... look at me, please..." He gasped, doubling over as he came again, his face softening as the pleasure surged through his body. "More..." His eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed against you, his legs twitching.

"Aww, so cute," you murmured, scratching his chin. Childe whimpered, curling up against you as the tentacles overstimulated him without any sign of stopping. "Such a good boy, letting me play with you." You settled back into the chair, watching Childe squirm on the floor, his thrashing growing weaker. He cried out, cumming all over the floor, sobbing.

"More—ah—more, please—" Childe threw his head back, babbling and sobbing incoherently as he came again, his body shuddering. "More—more—more pleaseplease—pleasepleasemore—"

You sauntered over and gripped his chin, lifting up his head and admiring his desperate fucked-out expression. "I'm far from done with you, Childe. Playtime isn't over yet."

#rox.nsfw #rox.fullfics #rox.childe #rox.dom #rox.writes #rox.gn #tw tentacles #childe smut #childe x reader

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im-in-love-with-pizza-bites · 3 years

Text

Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 16

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

List of OCs for this series

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: Mystery letters, Video games, and snow ball fights.

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings:

You looked at the letter again, it was addressed from Lieutenant colonel Robert Hucklebuckle. Why would a lieutenant colonel be sending you letter? Sure you know him, your husband used to serve with him. You're friends with the lieutenant's wife but he has your number so this letter just irks you. You just saw him a few months ago, him and his sons helped you and your sons move the larger furniture to the truck when you moved off base. So what could this letter possibly be.

A part of you thinks it's like the letters Butler sends you but he never was one for that. You reach for the letter opening it...

"Hey Y/n! It's Hucklebuckle, but you probably saw that on the envelope. You're probably wondering why I'm sending you this letter. Well I'm back on deployment. I'm on the same base as your husband last was and I wanted to tell you that Butler gave me the coordinates of a time capsule him and Senior buried right before they went into the field... and Butler is going to bring it home with him in a few weeks. Me and Butler both think you'd like to have whatever it is Senior out in the box. So he'll be personally bringing it to you." You just sigh shaking your head. That's what you got so worked up over?

"I'm going to slap him." You muttered but were confused what your husband could've possible put in the box. And why? Was he afraid someone would take this stuff? You'll have to ask Butler.

———

"You suck!" Was heard through the house you sighed.

"Play nice or no more ps4!" You shouted.

"Yes mom!" Your youngest two sons shouted back.

"Thank you!" You shook you head looking out the window, it was a snowy day today but you had forgotten to buy a snow shovel, so you were ultimately snowed in despite the clear roads. Luckily it was Sunday so the boys didn't have school.

You sigh knowing it would be best if you borrowed a shovel. You pull out you phone before you texted Chris. Since you really hadn't talked to the other neighbors.

He says he'll be over in a second. And just a few minutes later Chris walks over with two shovels. You had already put your winter clothes on so you just walk out with a smile.

"Thanks Chris." You give him a grateful smile.

"It's no problem." Chris assured handing you a shovel before he starts shoveling the snow.

"Chris you don't have to." You assured him.

"Sweetheart it's fine, Scott and Steve are watching June. I have time." Chris smiled. You sighed but started shoveling. "So why don't you have a shovel?"

"I gave it to some private and his wife before I moved." You shrugged.

"Oh why? You moved to boston." Chris nodded.

"Because I was already lugging a bunch of furniture and shit I couldn't fit the shovels. I thought I'd have enough time get a new one but I forgot."

"Oh okay. So for our date on Tuesday I was thinking a movie maybe dinner? We missed all those romantic lights shows so we have to have a boring date." He teased.

"Yeah that works."

"Great."

"What movie?" You asked.

"We'll figure that out later." Chris chuckled.

—

Caspian looked out the window noticing you and Chris shoveling the snow. He smiles as he sees a very bundled up June come around the corner, followed by her uncle and a man he hasn't met. He smirks he wants to cause some chaos. He goes into the living room where his brothers are "peacefully" playing PS4.

"Hey losers who wants to cause chaos?" He asked with the same mischievous smirk he had upstairs.

"What kind of choas?"

"Mom and Chris are outside shoveling so we're gonna start a snow ball fight. We just need a way to get June, on our side. She came out with Scott and some random guy. So we're also gonna get them." Caspian explained the plan.

"What do you mean random guy?" Jace asked.

"I mean some random guy. He walked over with June and Scott. So you in or not?"

"In." Jace smirks.

"Definitely in." Connor agrees as they turn off their game.

"Okay here's the plan I'll get June to come over to the porch and convince her to help us. Then once she agrees we'll start."

Once agreeing they all got into their winter gear Caspian stepped out onto the porch after making sure the adults were busy talking and none of them were looking toward the door.

"June." He whispered waving the toddler over. "We're gonna have a snowball fight okay? So go throw snow at them."

"Okay!" June smiled picking up some snow. And so it began. All four kids began to hit you, Chris, Scott, and Steve with snow.

"Hey!" You exclaiming looking at the kids. "Stop." You warned jokingly as you dropped the shovel onto the driveway with a thud.

"You're gonna regret that." Chris smirked at them.

The kids shrugged and continued hitting you guys with snowballs. You and the other adults began to hit them with snowballs too as Chris picked up June tossing her into a pile of snow. Laughter and screams of joy filled the front yard.

After a little while you guys finally "surrendered" you invited them all inside for hot cocoa. The driveway can wait a while.

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @stillthatbetch @queenofthepouges @dontbescaredtosingalong @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @food8me @cedricdiggorysimpp @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan @lharrietg @liecastillo @denisemarieangelina @wisepeanutlady @unicornblueberry @stitchattacks @milacolibri @spooky-stoner @marvelmenwhore @saahmi @boldlypessimistic @freakyevanss @asuni921 @srhxpci @supriseeshawtyy @nova10711 @nik2write @blueeyeddemon1016 @happinessinthebeing @winterberryfox @sunwardsss @ellerosie2332 @the-photo-hoe @scarletmeii @janaev4ns @tanyaherondale @hollzo-03

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

kiss the girl: ch 4

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 2 extra (ft. marius) | ch 3 | ch 4

***

Ask her out to dinner.

Artem Wing rarely gets stressed. Even when he has a trial the next day and it’s before the highest appellate court, he’s the definition of ‘calm’.

But right now, he’s freaking out.

It’s not that he doesn’t know how to ask a woman out to dinner. Of course he’s had dinner with her before—and they weren’t always team dinners.

The procedure is simple enough. Step one, ask her if she’s free that night. Or any night, for that matter. Step two, ask if she would like to have dinner with him. It’s an easy two-step process that anyone can accomplish.

Except, Artem didn’t factor in a possible third step: what to do when she is “suddenly unable to make it for dinner” with him not once, not twice, but three times in a row.

The first time it happened, she said she wasn’t feeling well, so he insisted that she leave the office early to get some rest, and cancelled their dinner plans for the evening.

The second time it happened, she said she had forgotten about a family dinner that clashed with their dinner plans. Artem had assured her that they could call a rain check, and that she should attend the family dinner to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday.

By the third time, Artem thought things would finally go his way. But alas, she was hauled away by none other than his NXX colleague, Vyn, who needed her assistance urgently with some pick-up artist case. He had offered to go with her, but she insisted that she could handle the case herself. And so, he had no choice but to leave her be, lest she thought that he didn’t have faith in her abilities.

All things considered, Artem is disheartened, to say the least. Having their dinner plans cancelled three times in a row can’t be a coincidence—maybe she just doesn’t want to have dinner with him, but is too scared of him to admit it outright. And it’s probably because he’s her boss, which is a position that he’s rapidly growing to hate. He wishes they could just be normal colleagues. Maybe then he won’t feel so awkward every time he wants to make a move but doesn’t want to come across as pressuring her inappropriately.

Then again, if they were normal colleagues, they probably wouldn’t work as closely as they do now… so Artem is torn on the issue. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, he doesn’t know what to do. Celestine would say that he should just try again, which he could do, but he should probably wait for a while before asking her again. As for how long he should wait, he’s not sure. But he was looking forward to dinner so much that the disappointment has been weighing him down for the past few days.

Deciding he needs some air to clear his head, Artem gets out of his office, intending to get some coffee from the pantry. As Celestine has reminded him many times, he has a working coffee machine in his office. His reply every time is that the capsules that he wants are in the pantry… and he just so happens to forget to take some to his office with every trip he makes.

Out of habit, Artem takes his phone to clear some notifications that have been accumulating since morning. And as he busies himself with replying to client messages and reading some new messages in the NXX chat, he overhears Kiki asking her if she wants to have dinner together. It’s a Friday night, and it’s already five minutes past the time everyone can knock off.

Her response, however, is noticeably sullen compared to her usual cheeriness. “I think I’ll be staying late tonight… I have two sets of written submissions to finish by Monday and I’ve barely started.”

It doesn’t take long for Artem to recall that those were the subs he had assigned to her at the start of the week. They’re due Monday… The other partners might have given her some work to do during the week, which is why she’s running tight on schedule.

He would ask if she wants him to assign one set to someone else to lighten her load, but Artem already knows from experience that she won’t have that. In fact, she’ll interpret it as him thinking she’s not competent enough to finish the work she’d been given and probably get upset—both with him and with herself.

“Then, aren’t you going to eat?” Kiki presses.

“I’ll eat later; I’m not hungry right now. Don’t worry about me, you should go ahead first. See you Monday!”

As Artem slowly returns to his office with a cup of coffee in hand and pretending to be engrossed in fiddling with his phone, he wonders if maybe there is a way to have dinner with her after all.

***

You’re stressed. The looming deadline of the coming Monday and the five cups of coffee you’ve had since morning are contributing to your high-strung nerves, and your hyper-active fingers as you furiously type away at the keyboard. Hopefully you can finish one sub tonight, and then you can do the other one over the weekend at home.

You’re so caught up in research and figuring out how to condense the facts of the extremely complicated facts of this darn case into a neat, concise summary, that you don’t realise that someone has been standing behind you for a while until he clears his throat and calls your name.

With a start, you jerk your head over your shoulder, not expecting anyone else to be in the office at this time—oh, it’s almost 8pm already—on a Friday night.

But here Artem is, holding up a few plastic bags and wearing a smile that isn’t helpful for your already wired heart. Didn’t he already leave the office for the day? And—how long has he been staring at your screen? Has he been watching you struggle over writing a summary of the facts?

He must think you’re an idiot now.

If he does though, he doesn’t show any sign of it. “You haven’t had dinner, right?” is all he asks.

“Dinner?” You take a few seconds to recall whether you’ve eaten or not, and then shake your head with a sheepish smile. “Right. I forgot.”

“I bought some sushi. You’ll focus better if you’re not hungry.”

You glance back at your screen, and even though you’d rather continue working, you reluctantly agree. Maybe you’ll be able to write this better after a short break.

“You’re right. Thanks.” You stand up, removing your glasses and rubbing your tired eyes. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of eating with you… if you don’t mind.”

You can’t help but smile. You’ve had to cancel dinner plans with Artem three times now, and you had thought he would be offended or take it as a rejection in some way. You had actually been planning on asking him out to dinner next week, after clearing all your urgent tasks, to make up for everything. But here he is, offering dinner for the fourth time, accommodating your schedule and even buying sushi from your favorite sushi place. How did he even know?

“Of course I don’t mind! I just thought you’d want to eat with someone else on a Friday night, instead of eating take-out in the office.”

“I’d say eating dinner with you isn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

Lawyers and their double-negatives. Now you can’t tell if this counts as Artem flirting with you. Not sure how else to respond, you settle for a generic “thank you” before taking one of the bags from him so that he isn’t carrying everything alone. “Let’s set it up in the pantry.”

He nods, allowing you to take the lead and following behind you towards the pantry. You hear the rustle of the plastic bags, his footsteps, and a small but thrilled "yes” that he whispers under his breath. It’s so low and soft that you almost mistake it for the sound of the plastic bags swinging by your side.

You should probably pretend you didn’t hear that, but still, you can’t suppress the laugh that escapes you. The effort that he’s been putting in for the past few weeks hasn’t escaped your notice at all. And considering how much Artem has been looking out for you lately, maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you can do for Artem too.

***

A/N: Thanks for all the support guys, i've been blown away by the encouraging comments and i'm so glad to know that you enjoy this story :)

#tears of themis #artem wing #artem fanfiction #tears of themis fanfiction #artem wing fanfiction #my writing #kiss the girl

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 3 years

Note

Hmmm Vardy (vampire Hardy), finally admitting his secret to his vaguely sheen looking boyfriend (whether or not they are boyfriends right now up to interpretation) (my vote is for Lucian because Bill is too much of a real person for my taste, but I see the allure of a human) because he is running on empty, nearing collapse because there is nothing the man hates more than self care, and just. Very badly needs blood. Has forgotten to fake heart troubles to go to hospital to buy blood bags secretly. (Presumably his heart would in fact trouble doctors, what with the not beating and stuff)

Vardy made me giggle in delight, not gonna lie, I love it.

But I like this with Lucian! :D Especially because I think Lucian is totally up for giving/getting blood without even a second thought for Hardy.

Warning: blood (do I really need to put this as a warning for a vampire story?), symptoms are similar to low blood sugar (because your author is diabetic and knows how shitty of a feeling this is)

On with the fic!

Alright, this was bad, this was really, really bad. And he didn't have anyone to blame but himself, he thought he could last a bit longer, but...

No, he was nearly on empty, Hardy needed fresh blood, or he was going to keel over. And that would probably make this whole situation worse.

Hardy always hated when he pushed his luck this bad, he actually felt terrible pains in his chest and stomach, his body starving for blood at this point. And he could smell it, fresh, pumping, under the warm skin of the man he had only started dating these past few weeks.

He stumbled past Lucian and into his kitchen, going to see if he had anything, anything at all that was blood!

Throwing open the door of the fridge, there wasn't much. Yes, there was food for his daughter, but nothing much else that would really work for him in this state. "Fuck..." He hissed, his head spinning terribly.

His vision blurred for a moment as he reached into the fridge, shoving things aside. Did he really not have an emergency bag of blood in here? He always had something! There had to be something, anything!

He dropped to his knees, feeling sick for a second. He heard Lucian ask his name as he entered the kitchen, but Hardy just snarled. "Go away!" He shouted, tossing something from the fridge. He thought it might be a thing of butter, but he couldn't really tell.

With a groan, the detective fell over, knocking his shoulder against a cabinet, moving to sit on the ground. Oh, he was really running on empty now, wasn't he? Fucking fumes at this point.

Hardy fumbled with pulling out a small bottle from his pocket, filled with dried blood-infused capsules. They weren't much, just for when a dizzy spell would hit, but it was something, right?

"Alec, what the hell is going on?" Lucian asked, suddenly in front of Hardy, when did he get there?

"Hhh... uh, not doing so great, Lucian..." He couldn't get the damn bottle open and ended up dropping it. Lucian picked it up for him, opening it, before sniffing.

"Blood?"

"I need it. Gimme the pills." He motioned, reaching for the bottle, but Lucian took it away.

"This isn't enough for you, is it? A few pills isn't going to make you feel better."

Hardy slowly blinked, trying to focus on him. "What? How do you-?"

"Alec." Lucian frowned, lifting his face up to have them look at one another. "Do you need fresh blood?"

This sent off warning bells in Hardy's head, but he was so fucking thirsty right now, he'd worry about it later. "Yessss..." He could smell it, Lucian's blood, hot and alive, under his skin. Fuck, he was too close, Hardy felt his fangs growing.

Lucian held out his arm, using his free hand to cup the back of the vampire's head, gently pushing it forward. "Drink."

He didn't have to be told twice. Hardy bit down, hard, and he started to drink. It tasted funny, but it was blood, fresh, hot blood from a living person! Not dried flakes in pills or cold bags he had to microwave. Or sometimes the occasional animal if he got the chance.

No, this was blood from someone very much alive, and it was divine.

But even as he drank, the dizziness and the growing darkness around the edge of his vision didn't go away and he pulled away with a gasp, dropping to the floor.

Hardy tasted blood in his mouth as he started to black out, and he swore he could feel his heart beating again, a little too fast for his liking.

His head was pounding when he woke up, and Hardy groaned, trying to cover his face. He felt drained, exhausted, but surprisingly very much replenished and no longer in his normal state of dealing with hunger pains.

Shit, he ate, didn't he?

"I see you're awake." He heard Lucian's voice, and Hardy opened his eyes, seeing Lucian walking into the living room, a mug of something in his hand. Hardy sniffed, he smelled blood, microwaved, but it was still something.

"Where did you...?" He started to ask as it was given to him, then he remembered what happened before he blacked out. "Shit, Lucian, I-"

But the man held up a hand. "It's fine, no need to apologize. I gave you my blood willingly." Lucian said as he sat down on the couch. "And I got the blood from the hospital, people there are so easy to bribe."

"They really are..." Hardy mumbled, looking at Lucian's arm. He was surprised to see not a trace of a bite on there, how was that possible? "I'm sure you want answers."

"No."

This surprised Hardy. "No? What do you mean no? Lucian, I drank your blood!"

"I know. And I know you're a vampire."

Well, shit.

Hardy sipped from the mug, bleh, not good enough, not after getting to drink from Lucian. "It was obvious from that, wasn't it?"

Lucian shook his head. "I smelled it on you, vampires have a specific scent to them, no matter the kind. And you smell of it too."

"Smell? How can you smell it? No one else seems to."

The other man tapped the side of his nose. "Special nose, humans don't have it like I do."

Hardy frowned, and realized something. "Oh God, you're not human, are you?"

Lucian smiled, shaking his head. "No, not human, never have been. I'm a lycan."

Lycan? As in a werewolf? "Fuck me..." He said under his breath. "Explains why you're taking this so well."

"Yeah, you get used to it, not much surprises me nowadays. Well, aside from you. A vampire who became a detective, and who doesn't take care of himself at all."

Hardy glowered at him, drinking more of the blood. "I don't like drinking this stuff. It's not... it's not great. Everything else I can deal with, but the blood bothers me."

"I'm sure it does." Lucian nodded, moving a bit closer, until he was pressed close to Hardy. "You're not upset about drinking from me, are you?"

The vampire shifted. "A little, I don't like drinking from living beings, only when I have no choice. And I was stupid and forgot to restock my blood in the fridge, so I had no choice in the matter. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I said you didn't have to apologize. Besides, I healed up just fine, no harm done, Alec. I'm perfectly alright." Lucian smiled at him, and Hardy's now-beating heart fluttered at it. He decided to ignore it with more blood drinking, especially cause it meant he didn't have to talk for a moment.

#john's drabbles #good omens extended universe #lucian x alec hardy #the vardy au

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dreamsister81 · 3 years

Text

Happy anniversary Grace! Released August 23, 1994 📷 Merri Cyr

What were you aiming to achieve musically when you went in to record Grace and are you happy with the results?

Just to express, just to make a record of pure expression. Am I happy? Well...well, it's uh, it...Grace...a record that you make is something that changes and shifts and I am something that changes and shifts and I'm gonna have to really be a mature human being and say against all my sensibilities, yes, I'm pleased but I'm horribly self critical. I'm horrible. So sometimes I'll just say "oh this is the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen in my life, blah, blah, blah," but I won't...I mean, but because Mickey and Matt and Michael are on it, I can't really say that 'cause they do...I'm so proud of them. It's alright, you know, it's alright, I just can't wait til the next one. I can make a better record than Grace.-interview in Paris for Rock Rush, September 22, 1994

The next album will probably be more joyful but this time, it was impossible...You can be cute, funny, generous, there's always the danger of a break-up in a love relationship. No one is safe. Grace, this is the album of a jealous, poor guy who just got dumped."-Les Inrockuptibles, October, 1994

"I know the next album will be a very different kind of work—even more direct than Grace, but bigger in scope. If people were confounded by the range of the first album, they'll probably run to it as a safe haven in light of what's to come.

"I can see it now—'The amazing, beautiful disaster pastiche of Grace is totally lost in Buckley's newest work.' We haven't started recording it yet and already I'm bored with the reviews."-Now magazine, 27 Oct, 1994

I mean, I hope people don't get too attached...no, that's impossible...hope the media and the wheels that turn don't get too attached to Grace. 'Cause you know, it's out and you know, I just want to make another one and another one and we've grown so much already, we've completely mashed that album into the ground.

Is what you're saying is you don't want them to want you to do another album like Grace? Because the next one will be different?

No, no, no, no...I mean just like...uh, yeah,you know...I don't know, what is it? I just...

You know how sometimes the company will say "oh that one was so good, so do it again"?

Nah, the company is like the least of my problems actually in that respect 'cause they know everything's growing and the people I deal with are very happy and pleased as they say in the music biz. They know where I'm coming from but it's just like in another interview...um, we've evolved, and we'll keep on evolving, I mean like radically. Like radically. And Grace is, Grace is just a completely different work unto itself, it's a box where I put things in my past that have made made my past live, in a box, away.

So you're done with certain things?

Yeah, in a way. But on to new things. It doesn't mean that I'll completely eskew, or astew, or get rid of, whatever that word is, get rid of the old things, it's just that I like the present so much.

How do you feel when you listen to those tunes and how they were recorded?

Sometimes we can't listen to 'em and sometimes we're totally in love with 'em-WDET, October 31, 1994

The New York Times has called "Grace" the best debut record to come along since Tracy Chapman's in 1988. "I can't listen to it anymore," said Buckley, 26. "The songs have changed. I like it, but it is sort of like looking at baby pictures."-Salt Lake Tribune, November 10, 1994

What about Grace? So many people, at least in France, the press is all unanimous, your records are selling, it's a masterpiece...what do you think about it now?

'Massively beautiful album'...somebody gave us a rush of a commercial, that was supposed to go out on the TV and I hope it doesn't make it: 'Grace, it's unanimous, blah, blah, blah...' Not that's bad, but it's just a first album and we've really grown since then and it just doesn't make sense that it seems to have this kind of impact, commercially. The people who really...you know, like...I don't know, I'm sick of magazines, I can't even buy them anymore, just tired of 'em, they don't say anything. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm whining, and maybe I am, but it's just...it's boring man, I'd rather go to the gig. Now there'll be people who will come out with something else and people will say 'obviously lacking the splenderous chaos of Grace, this new album falls short...' I can hear the reviews already and I'm totally bored. I hope that people just calm down really. Actually our fans are pretty normal, they're pretty cool, they're pretty calm about the whole thing. But the media seems to...you know, the media, the rock critics they've lambasted plenty of brilliant friends of mine which just shows me they have no taste whatsoever, and usually in most cases. Just totally destroyed people who've made great work. And then this comes along and 'this obviously is the thing,' how am I supposed to trust that? I can only trust my friends, and my band, and the people that come.-interview for Top Live in Paris, February 15, 1995

Praise has been especially glowing in England, where the respected pop monthly Mojo named "Grace" the album of the year and Q magazine hailed it as "an enthralling, endlessly playable piece of work...the missing link between (Van Morrison's) 'Astral Weeks' and (Nirvana's) 'Nevermind.' Isn't Buckley flattered? "Of course I am," he says, shifting in his chair as if annoyed at himself for admitting it. "At the same time, I'm not 'Grace.' That album is like a brick onto itself. It's like a coffin that I put certain feelings and observations in so that they can be capsulized forever. I wanted to put them there so I would be free to move on.-Los Angeles Times, February 19, 1995

“I just thought it should link this album to my past a little,” he said at the time. “Grace is like...a lot of this stuff ... I don't know how to describe it to you...It's just a bunch of things about my life that I wanted to put in a coffin and bury forever so I could get on with things.

"On the outside of that you can say that I find great joy in the things that are sad. That's the way emotions are in people. They fall down on you and there's no way to get out, except to go through it. There's no way you can control it, there's no essay you can write to answer yourself out of it. It just soaks you like the rain. There's nothing you can do. Then it's gone and then another comes around. But tears are not all I deal with. I'll leave that to the next album.”-Juice, February, 1996

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 112

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,900ish

Summary: Captain America: Civil War --- tread carefully.

Steve landed the quinjet as Bucky and Y/N grabbed weapons.

“You shouldn’t come in with us,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Too bad,” Y/N responded, slipping guns into the holster of her suit, that was thankfully in the quinjet. “I’m coming.”

Bucky sighed before looking up at Y/N. “I’m not the same man you knew.”

“I’m not the same woman. But…” Y/N stepped forward, took Bucky’s metal hand, and held it to her chest. “You’re still my Bucky.”

Bucky studied her eyes for a second before swiftly putting his free hand on the back of her head and pulling her in to meet his lips. She was shocked, not kissing back for a few, before remembering how much she loved the feeling of his lips on hers. He was the one to end the kiss, stepping away and breaking all physical contact with her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky apologized. “I’m not in the correct mindset.”

He quickly made his way over to the back of the quinjet, waiting for the ramp to lower. Y/N joined him before Steve left the pilot’s chair and stood in the middle of them as the ramp lowered.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked.

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky questioned.

“Yes,” Y/N answered, with a reminiscent smile.

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” Steve continued.

“What was her name again?” Bucky asked.

“Dolores,” Y/N responded. “You called her Dot.”

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.”

“So are we, pal,” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulders.

The three of them looked at each other before Steve slipped his helmet on and they exited the quinjet. It was cold, the wind blowing harshly as snow covered the ground. Bucky led them to the entrance, set in rock. The door was open.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve said as they stared at the door.

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky said. Both men looked over to Y/N.

“Last chance. I really wish—“

“Save it Steve. You know I’m not leaving,” Y/N retorted.

Both men sighed. “Then no powers unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t need you throwing up in the middle of a fight.”

Y/N gave a small nod before Steve led them in, her in the middle and Bucky tailing. They entered a small elevator. She watched as the men nodded at each other while the elevator went down. Once it rattled to a stop, the men heaved up the doors. Steve held up his shield as the other two held up their guns, walking along a corridor, keeping close to a wall.

The trio headed up a flight of stairs, Bucky leading, Y/N in the middle, and Steve at the end, when they heard a noise from behind them. They swiftly spun around, aiming down the corridor. Still keeping his gun up, Bucky gently pushed Y/N down so that she was more hidden.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded.

The three held their positions as the creaking of the doors at the end of the corridor continued. The double doors part, forced open by Iron Man. Both Steve and Y/N stared in surprise. Tony walked towards them, retracting the suits helmet.

“You seem a little defensive,” Tony commented.

Steve got up and walked towards Tony, keeping his shield up. Tony eyed Y/N who was slowly following.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve replied.

“At ease, Soldier,” Tony said. “I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe. My girl friend also wasn’t at the place that I left her. Figured she was with you.”

“Tony—“

“Ross has no idea I’m here,” Tony cut Y/N off to continue. He lended his shoulder against a large cement post. “I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” Steve said, lowing his shield. It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap. Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop.”

Steve signals Bucky to lower his weapon, in which he does. Y/N walked up to Tony, hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Nat called and warned me. I had to come help.”

Tony stared at her, studying her carefully for a moment. He had a feeling for a few days now that something was up, something besides the Accords. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly, pulling her into his arms. He held a kiss to her head. Bucky tensed at the gesture, which Tony noticed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Tony put his helmet back over his face and the four of them cautiously walked further into the bunker. The three men were positioned so that Y/N was in the middle of them. Iron Man was leading the way towards an enormous chamber with capsules standing in it.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony stated.

“How many?” Steve asked.

Tony paused before answering, “Uh, one.”

As the entered the chamber, the lights turned on. A hazy, yellow mist descended within the capsules around the room. Each capsule contained a soldier. They all looked around, bewildered.

“If it’s any comfort,” Helmut Zemo’s voice came over a speaker, “they died in their sleep.”

They all walked around, staring at the soldiers that had each been shot in the head.

“Do you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo continued.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered.

“I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here.”

Zemo appeared in the control room, through a small window. Tony lifted up his hand as Steve threw his shield, but it bounced back.

“Please, Captain,” Zemo taunted. “The The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorted. The four of them rounded the center consul so that they could be closer to Zemo.

“Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questioned. Staring Zemo straight on.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized . . . there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

“You're Sokovian,” Y/N stated, coming closer. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

“You lost someone?” Steve wondered.

Zemo, looking grave, clicked his tongue. "I lost everyone. And so will you.” A screen suddenly turned on, bringing everyone’s attentions to it. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within? That's dead . . . forever.”

They all moved over and looked at the screen. The frozen frame of a secluded road and the date, December 16, 1991. Tony’s face helmet disappeared, his eyes briefly met Y/n’s before flickering back to the screen that began to play.

“I know that road,” Tony stated, anxiously. “What is this?”

All eyes were now on the screen. A car came into the frame, crashing into a tree. Y/N watched as someone road up on a motor cycle and got off. The Winter Soldier. Steve watched Tony’s increasing unease. The driver got out of the car, crawling on the ground.

“Howard,” Y/N gasped quietly, eyes brimming with tears.

“Help me wife,” Howard begged on the video. “Please. Help.” The Winter Soldier walked over and hoisted him up by his hair. “Sergeant Barnes?”

“Howard!” Maria called.

Tony looked up and glared at Bucky, before his eyes found their way back to the screen. Y/N was unable to take her eyes off the screen, her heart began racing. On the screen, the Winter Soldier lifted his metal fist.

“Wait!” Howard begged, hand digging into his suit coat. “You don’t want to do this, Barnes. Look.” Howard pulled out the photo of him and Y/N dancing. “We knew each other… You know her… Remember.”

Y/N heart clenched as a sob torn through her. Her hand came up to her mouth, trying to keep it quiet.

“Please don’t,” Howard continued. “Remember Y/N at least.”

After a brief glance at the photo, the Winter Soldier punched Howard over and over.

“Howard!” Maria called again.

Howard slumped over, dead. The Winter Soldier put him in the driver’s seat, face against the steering wheel. He walked around the the passenger side, where Maria was located. The Soldier reached in and gripped her throat, expressionless as he strangled Maria. The Winter Soldier then walked up and aimed a gun at the surveillance camera, ending the feed.

Y/N’s heart was beating rapidly. It was the only thing she could hear. Her breathing was becoming increasingly unsteady. Losing her balance, she backed up into the wall and slid down it. Steve kept his eyes on Tony, who lunged towards Bucky.

“Tony, Tony,” Steve said, stopping him.

Tony looked at Steve, clearly consumed with grief and tears glistening in his eyes. “Did you know?” Tony asked, trying to control his emotions.

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?”

“Yes.”

Tony stepped back, chin jutting up in a twitch. Looking over at Y/N, he sees her struggling with this as well, making him realize that she didn’t know either. Tony reengaged his helmet. He punched Steve to the floor and deflected gunfire from Bucky, disarming him. Grabbing Bucky, he flew across the chamber, slamming Bucky onto the floor. Tony pinned Bucky’s arms down but was unable to fire because Steve threw his shield at him.

Steve barged Tony backwards. Tony then shouldered Steve to the floor, shackling his ankles. Bucky came back up and punched Tony, who just listed him and slammed him against a machine. Tony raised a fist, but Bucky twisted it. A rocket shot out from the Iron Man suit, a fireball exploding. Steve sliced his shackles as a towering structure of pipework collapsed.

Barely registering what was happening around her, Y/N was quickly thrown back into her senses, as pieces of metal began to fall around her, boxing her into the corner.

“Ah!” She screamed.

Bucky and Tony were thrown to the ground by the metal, not hearing her screams. Steve though, did.

“No,” he whispered. Steve and Bucky stood up, making eye contact. “Find Y/N and get out of here!”

Bucky nodded. He quickly found her, throwing the metal to the side.

“I’ve got you, Y/N/N,” Bucky said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N shaking in his hold as Bucky rushed towards the wall with the lowest platform. He hit a control panel, opening the over head roof. Tony shot at them, thankfully missing, before Steve landed in front of him.

“It wasn’t him, Tony,” Steve stated. “HYDRA had control of his mind!”

“Move!” Tony ordered, hovering. He began to fly over Steve.

“It wasn’t him!”

Steve grabbed onto Tony’s ankle in mid air, smashing the bottom of the boot. They fought while Bucky was trying his best to make his way up the platforms with an almost unresponsive Y/N in his arms. He began to notice that the trembling was increasing and that she was sweating everywhere.

Tony unsteadily soared upwards as Bucky jumped across to another platform, Y/n still in his arms. Tony kicked Bucky down, causing him to let go of Y/n, who rolled away. Tony then took aim but Steve quickly jumped in front of Bucky, using his shield to rebound the energy back to Tony. He dropped, landing on a lowering platform.

“He’s not going to stop,” Steve stated, helping Bucky up. “Go.”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous for me to take Y/N,” Bucky worried. “Look.”

Steve looked over to see Y/N shaking, with sweat dripping down her forehead.

“I’ve got her,” Steve stated. “Go.”

Bucky ran and Steve leaped over and shot a wire around Tony’s neck, dragging him down. Tony deflected Steve’s shield, before trying to target Bucky.

“Come on, come on,” Tony muttered.

“Targeting system’s knackered, boss,” FRIDAY warned.

“I’m eyeballing it.”

Tony’s helmet retracted and he shut one eye, taking aim at the opening hatch. He fired, hitting the giant hinge and cutting off Bucky’s escape route. Tony then flew up, blocking two swings from an iron pipe Bucky was trying to use. Tony grabbed Bucky around the neck from behind.

“Do you even remember them?” Tony asked.

“I remember all of them,” Bucky replied.

Bucky pushed them both of the walkway. Steve jumped into them to deflect their fall. Bucky landed on a platform while Tony and Steve landed on the concrete floor besides an opening in the wall where snow drifts in. Finally hearing more of the commotion, Y/N pushed herself up, looking over the side.

“No,” she panted.

The three men she loved most in the world where fighting each other and she had no strength to stop them. She winced as she felt a cramp in her lower abdomen.

“No, no, no,” she whispered frantically.

Pushing herself up, she shakily jumped down from platform to platform as the men still fought.

“This isn’t gonna change what happened,” Steve said to Tony.

“I don’t care,” Tony replied. “He killed my mom.”

The two began going at each other, with Bucky shown joining in. Y/N got down to their level as Bucky was blasted away from Tony, his metal arm blowing off. Tony zapped him again, throwing him to the side. Y/N rushed as quick as she could over to him.

“B-bucky,” she called, collapsing beside him. “Bucky, please…”

Bucky coughed up some blood. “Go,” he groaned. “You have to get out of here.”

“But you’re all killing each other.”

“And you shouldn’t have to see that… go… please…. I love you.”

“Bucky, I—“

“Go.”

With an unsteady inhale and a nod, Y/N opened a portal to the quinjet. She knew she couldn’t get much further than that. Closing it, she fell onto the ground. She had no more energy to move but her body still forced her to vomit. Y/N couldn’t focus on anything around her, black spots filling her vision. With one more heave, she blacked out.

~~~

Tony and Steve were both panting as Steve ripped the shield out of Tony’s suit and helped Bucky up. They began to walk away, leaving Tony on the ground.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony said. “My father made that shield!”

Pausing, Steve raised his chin before dropping the shield. He walked around, with Bucky’s arm around his shoulder, leaving Tony to stare at the shield. Panting, he watched it until something suddenly hit him.

“Y/N,” he gasped. “No.” He pushed himself up. “Y/N!”

He called her name as she walked around, searching for her. Tony feared ash something terrible had happened to her or that she had gone with Steve and Bucky. He eventually, after almost an hour, gave up the search and headed out of the bunker. Tony was thankful to still see a quinjet here. As he entered the jet, he saw a body laying in the middle of it.

“Y/N… Baby?”

Tony slowly limped over to her. As he drew closer, he noticed the blood seeping from somewhere in between her legs. He rushed to kneel next to her.

“Honey,” he tried to be gentle but firm as he turned her over from the vomit she was in and patted her cheek. “Y/N, please.”

But nothing. He quickly moved to find where the blood was coming from. There was no gash, no wound. As he ran through all the possible things, Tony’s mind came to one solution.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

He hurried and got the quinjet into the air and set for the compound before getting out of his battle torn suit. Tony then took Y/N into his arms, rocking her as he begged for her to wake.

“I can’t lose more than I already have… I’m so sorry…”

Dr. Cho was already there waiting for the quinjet when they landed back at the compound. Her and her people rushed Y/N away from Tony. He watched helplessly, falling onto his knees as tears trailed down his cheeks. And he did the one thing he’d never done before in his life. Tony Stark prayed.

“Please God… don’t take them from me… I’ll be better, work harder… I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Including my own life… Just don’t take them from me. I’m begging you… I-I-I didn’t even know… I didn’t even know…”

next chapter >

I’ll see you guys after Disney World! I’ll still be responding to asks and comments!

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #iron man x reader #captain america civil war #civil war #captain america x reader #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #tony stark imagine #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 10

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:46am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Coffee?

Hi Monica,

It’s Dana, from pathology. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee tomorrow around lunchtime? I have a break in classes from 11-2, so anywhere in there would be fine.

I hope things are going well with VICAP.

-Dana

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:48am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Wednesday/Thursday

Hi,

I’m mildly shocked that you hadn’t already emailed me before I got in today. Are you alive?

If you’d like to meet up for lunch or coffee this week, I can do Wednesday or Thursday, sometime in the 11-3 timeframe. Let me know which works for you and I’ll block the time out so nothing else ends up on my schedule.

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 11:12am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Coffee?

Hi Dana,

I’m so glad you reached out. I’d love to get coffee tomorrow; I can meet you just outside the autopsy bay at 1pm, if that works?

I look forward to it.

-Monica

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28th, 1997 12:16pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Wednesday/Thursday

Hi Scully,

I see that my exceptional self control has paid off in spades. I am alive, and have resisted emailing you this morning through a combination of sheer will and a two-hour budget meeting.

Wednesday sounds perfect, I’ll be there at noon. Don’t ask me how many hours that is from now because I haven’t calculated it and I have no idea.

———

About an hour after returning from her coffee date with Monica, which was very pleasant and is something she hopes to repeat, she starts to feel just a little bit achy. She pushes through the rest of her work for the day and by the time she slumps through her apartment door at six, there’s no denying that she’s sick. She takes some Tylenol and goes to bed, hoping it will have passed in the morning, but when she wakes up it’s even worse. She calls in sick to work and goes back to sleep.

When she wakes again, the phone is ringing. She ignores it, only for it to start ringing again the moment the machine picks up. Dragging herself out of bed with a pained moan, she trudges to the hallway, retrieving the cordless phone and walking back to her bedroom as she answers.

“Hello?”

“Scully! Are you okay?”

“What? Yes. Mulder?” She burrows herself back under the covers with the phone tucked against her ear.

“Yes, it’s me, you didn’t answer my emails all morning and never showed up for our coffee date. I was worried.”

“Shit, Mulder, I’m sorry. I came down with something yesterday and called out sick. I totally forgot we were having coffee today.”

“You’re sick?” he asks, clear concern in his voice.

“Yes, just a virus or something, I’ll be fine.”

“Can I bring you something? Soup? Juice? Bad movies?”

She chuckles a little. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

“Who's gonna take care of you?”

“Mulder, I’m a grown adult with a cold, I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure?” She can tell by his tone that he wants to do this more for himself than for her.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want you to see me all sick and disgusting, Mulder. It’s too soon to ruin your image of me,” she says somewhat sarcastically.

“Seeing you sick is not going to change how I feel about you, Scully,” he says very tenderly, and she knows he means it. Still, she doesn’t like the idea.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Sorry to make you drive an hour for nothing. Rain check?”

He sighs noisily. “Okay, fine. I think you inadvertently left ‘stubborn’ off your list of flaws, though.”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin all the surprises,” she replies with a smile.

He reluctantly says goodbye, and as soon as he hangs up, she calls the first number on her speed dial.

“Hello,” calls Missy in her typical singsong greeting.

“Missy, can you come over?” she whines, little sister mode in full effect, “I’m sick.”

Missy arrives forty five minutes later and fusses around, gathering a glass of water, Tylenol, and the thermometer that is buried in the bottom of a bathroom drawer. Dana has relocated to the couch, and makes a face around the thermometer propped under her tongue when Missy sets four crystals of different shapes and colors on the coffee table, along with two herb-filled capsules. The thermometer beeps angrily and Missy plucks it out of her mouth, shaking her head.

“One hundred and two,” she says with a frown, “here, take these,” she holds out two Tylenol and two of the herb capsules with a glass of water.

Dana takes the Tylenol and leaves the others.

“Whatever those are, I’m not taking them. And you can pack up your crystals,” she says to Missy as she pops the Tylenol and chases them with a big gulp of water.

“They’re just echinacea, Sis, they won't kill you. And neither will the crystals.”

“But they also won’t help,” Dana says dryly, setting her water on the coffee table and burrowing back under her blanket.

“Well, I’ll just leave them right here,” Missy says, standing and going to the kitchen. “Why’d you call me, anyway? Shouldn’t playing sick maid be Mulder’s job now?” She’s looking through cupboards, pulling out a pot and a can of soup.

“It’s too soon for him to see me all congested and disgusting,” Dana replies, stifling a shiver. “He wanted to come over, but I told him not to.”

There’s a knock at the door. Dana sits up, exchanging confused looks with Missy.

“Did you order food?” Dana asks, and Missy shakes her head, moving to the door.

Dana watches from the couch as Missy opens the door to find no one on the other side. She looks at the floor, then down the hall one direction and the other. She stoops down and picks something up, then walks back to the couch with a paper bag.

“What is that?” Dana asks, and Missy shrugs, setting it on the coffee table and sitting at Dana’s feet. There’s a sheet of paper stapled to the bag, and Missy plucks it off, opening it while Dana explores the contents; a carton of tom kah gai soup.

Missy’s face is a mask of confusion as she reads whatever is written on the paper.

“What does it say?” Dana asks, and Missy hands it to her.

Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.

Dana’s chin puckers as her bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “Oh my god,” she gushes, “it’s Mulder.”

“What the hell does this mean?” Missy asks, taking the paper back and reading it again. “Does he write poetry or something?”

“No,” Dana answers, pulling the lid off the container and breathing in the spicy coconut smell, “it’s a quote from Jane Eyre.”

“Oh my god,” Missy says with a disgusted look, “you two really are meant for each other. This is sickening, Dana, you realize that, right?”

Dana is smiling, taking sips of the hot Thai chicken soup that he somehow knew she needed. “Yes, he’s also a giant nerd, if that’s what you’re saying. But beyond that, I don’t think we have much of anything in common, actually.”

“You both work for the FBI,” Missy offers.

“Yes, but in totally different areas. And he’s an atheist, and believes in unverifiable phenomena like aliens and spontaneous human combustion. And he’s impulsive and easy going, and he makes decisions with his gut,” Dana lists off Mulder’s attributes like she’s describing the trim level on a car. He’s cute, and he has a leather interior.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t use any of those words to describe you,” Missy says pointedly, setting the note on the table, where Dana plucks it back up and reads it again. “But there’s something to be said for being with someone who’s different from you.”

“I don’t really buy into the idea of ‘opposites attract,’” Dana says flatly. “I think that’s just a lie people tell themselves to justify horribly mismatched partnerships.”

“I think ‘opposites attract’ implies that your qualities clash, like the odd couple. One is messy and the other is clean,” Missy replies, propping her elbow on the back of the couch. “But I heard about this idea of ‘perfect opposites’ which is more like someone who complements you, or helps kind of level you out. So perhaps you lean to the extreme in some areas where Mulder leans to the other extreme, and you learn to meet somewhere in the middle.”

Dana gives her a doubtful look. “What is the middle between believing wholeheartedly that Bigfoot exists, and knowing that he doesn’t?”

Missy takes this under serious consideration. “I think,” she says without a hint of sarcasm, “that the medium would be accepting that it’s possible that he exists, and possible he doesn’t, but there's no way to know for sure.”

“So a Bigfoot agnostic?” Dana asks, and Missy nods in confirmation.

Dana shakes her head. “Maybe you should have gone out with him, I think you two might be better suited.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Missy says with a coy smile. “Speaking of which, does he have any single friends?”

Dana shrugs around a gulp of soup. “I don’t know, I haven’t met any of his friends.”

“Well, when you do, keep an eye out would ya? Now that I’ve lost my single buddy, I may as well get back out there. God knows it’s torture enough hearing your lurid tales from the bedroom.”

“Missy, I haven’t told you a single lurid tale,” Dana chastises.

“I know, what’s up with that?” Missy retorts in mock offense, “speaking of, what happened when he took you out to dinner Sunday night?”

Dana shakes her head.

“Oh come on, Dana. I have no life, let me live vicariously,” Missy whines.

Dana shakes her head again. “The only thing I’ll say is; maybe don’t eat off the kitchen counter,” she says before giving Missy a guilty look.

Missy’s mouth drops open.

“Wow, I’m not sure if I’m more grossed out or jealous,” she says as she stands, “I’m gonna get out of here, if you’re good. I think I need to go pick up a guy at a bar for some meaningless sex.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for coming by. If you need a condom there are some in the bathroom,” she adds with a sarcastic smile, and Missy sneers at her.

“Ha, ha,” Missy replies as she slips on her shoes and opens the door, “last time I checked, you can’t get pregnant from a vibrator.”

Dana gives her a sympathetic pout and Missy pulls the door closed behind her.

———

It’s a quarter past eight when the phone rings, and he pushes Priscilla onto the floor to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“I can’t find it,” says a garbled voice.

“Hello?” he asks again, “who is this?”

“It’s really cold. It’s also too hot,” the voice says around a sound like fabric moving over the mouthpiece.

“Scully?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

There’s a pause. “Mulder?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Mulder, where are you?”

“I’m at home. You called me at home. Is Missy there?”

“No, she had to take her vibrator to a bar,” she answers, and it’s clear that she’s completely delirious.

“Scully, I’m coming over,” he says, standing up to find his shoes and wallet. “Hey, Scully, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you stand up, and walk to your front door?”

She sighs. “That’s very far.”

“I know it is, but I need you to unlock the door so I can get in. I don’t think your super would be very happy if I broke it down.”

He hears her groan and her voice becomes quieter, then disappears. He waits, and just when he thinks she may have hung up, she picks the phone back up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, did you unlock the door?”

“Mulder?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Mulder, where are you?”

He snickers a little. “I’m on my way over, did you unlock the door?”

“I...I don’t remember,” she says, and she sounds exhausted.

“That’s okay, go back to bed. I’ll figure it out. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay, bye, Mulder.”

He waits but the line doesn’t go dead. He hears her shuffle around a bit and then it’s quiet for a long time. Setting the phone on its cradle, he drives over to her apartment.

The door is, thankfully, unlocked, and all the lights are off.

“Scully?” he calls out, not wanting to scare her. “Scully, are you awake?”

When he gets no response, he slips off his shoes and makes his way to her bedroom, calling out her name intermittently. He finds her twisted up in her sheets, and one touch to her forehead has him jerk his hand away with how hot she is. He strips the blankets off of her, finding her in only a T-shirt and panties underneath. Next he finds a washcloth in the bathroom and soaks it with cold water, then grabs two Tylenol and a glass of water. When he returns to the bedroom and drapes the cloth over her forehead, she starts and opens her eyes momentarily, but then closes them again.

“Scully,” he says softly, shaking her shoulder, “I need you to wake up, honey. I need you to take these.”

Her eyes open slowly and she blinks at him with heavy lids.

“Mulder?” she asks groggily, and he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m here. Can you sit up and take these?”

He helps her prop herself up just enough to swallow the Tylenol and a sip of water before she collapses back against the pillows.

“I feel like shit,” she complains, but her eyes are already closed and she’s on her way back to sleep.

“I know. Get some rest. I’ll be here.”

———

She wakes up to harsh beams of sun pouring directly through her eyelids. Her first thought is that Ethan forgot to close the blinds again, but then she remembers that she and Ethan aren't together anymore and he doesn’t live here, so she must have forgotten to close them. She moves to roll out of bed and is met with the shock of aching muscles, and remembers that she had been raging with fever last night. She probably shouldn’t have let Missy leave, but thankfully the fever seems to have broken during the night. She rolls away from the window, no longer motivated to get up and close the blinds, and finds herself nose to nose with a sleeping Mulder.

“What the hell?” she says out loud, and he opens his eyes and smiles at her.

“Hi,” he says softly, “how do you feel?”

She gives him a perplexed expression. “Confused. How long have you been here?”

He chuckles “I knew you were out of it, but I didn’t think you were that far gone. You don’t remember?”

She shakes her head ruefully.

Mulder rolls to his back and stretches, then turns back to face her. “You called me last night, totally out of it, and I came over to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you get in?” she asks skeptically.

“You let me in.”

Her eyes widen.

“You were burning up, I just force fed you some Tylenol and kept an eye on you. Around 3am you started shivering, so I think that’s when the fever broke.”

She is quiet for a moment, taking in her surroundings. “Mulder...am I not wearing pants?”

He holds up his hands in self defense. “That’s how I found you, Scully, Scout’s honor.”

“What time is it?” she asks, feeling disoriented.

He peeks at his watch. “A little after nine.”

She sits up too quickly and gets dizzy. “I’m late for work,” she says, one hand to her head.

“Scully you were delirious with fever six hours ago, you’re not going to work. I called for you,” he says, sitting up too.

She gives him an incredulous look. “You called out sick to work for me?”

He nods.

She sighs and looks away from him. “I got the soup, and the note,” she says, “thank you.”

“Of course,” he answers, rubbing a palm over her back.

She looks back at him, taking in his sleep rumpled hair and second day stubble. She furrows her brow, a slight scowl on her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” she says with a defeated tone, and he laughs.

“I’d sure like to be, if you’ll have me.”

She groans and slumps against him, sighing as he wraps his arms around her, petting her hair.

“Okay, fine,” she says flatly.

“Well don’t sound so excited about it,” he teases, and she pulls back and smiles at him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she says softly.

“Thanks for letting me,” he replies.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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how about a thing where beej goes camping with Lydia or also with adam and Barbara and they all try to tell the scariest stories they can? guess who.

this one got away from me but it was super fun. thanks........ blake? guessing is harder than i thought

"And they were never, ever, seen again," Adam finishes, the flashlight under his chin casting his features in a harsh, strange light.

"Thank god," BJ says, with a snort. "I know, right? Couldn't have chosen a better group of assholes to go missing," Lydia grins.

The late night summer air is keeping them relatively cool, and the fire Adam, the literal boy scout, built for them isn't too high. It's got just enough life in it to heat up a few s'mores. BJ sticks his impaled marshmallow into the flame, and watches as it sets on fire, going from gently roasted to disgustingly burnt in a moment. He lifts it, blows it off, and then, ignoring the pain of touching the molten black sugar, peels the burnt skin off, and eats it, before putting the skinned and oozing marshmallow back in the fire, to repeat the process.

Barbara, who has been watching the process, giggles at him.

"Come on, you guys," Adam frowns. "That's my best one. It got me my storytelling badge!"

"You can't get them, Adam," Barbara says, simply, and when BJ lifts his charred marshmallow and peels the skin off, this time, she plucks it from his fingers, and eats it instead. She grimaces at the taste of burnt sugar. "Nothing scares the horror twins," she finishes, giving BJ an apologetic peck on the cheek for stealing his snack, and he puts an arm around her, and then presses his mouth to her ear.

"That's right," he growls, right into her ear, and she squeals, and pushes him away, laughing. "Me an' Lyds are old pros at scary stories. You guys don't stand a chance."

"So why don't you tell one?" Adam huffs, a little irritated, and normally, he'd feel bad for being the cause of it... But all's fair in love, war, and campfire tales.

He looks down to Lydia, and she stares up at him, chocolate and graham cracker smeared at the corners of her mouth. "What do you think? The Cannibal one?"

"M'tryna scare them, not make em vomit up their marshmallows," BJ laughs. "Maybe th' shoppin' mall one? Ya know, with th'-"

"The corpse fountain, yeah. I dunno.. that one's a little long."

The siblings are stuck considering, for a moment, as Barbara and Adam seem to grow more weary and agitated.

"Oh," BJ snaps his fingers, suddenly, startling his paramores, who both jump, just a little. "I got it. The Shambler."

"Ooooh," Lydia breaths. "The Shambler. Is that one.. safe, to tell?" she drops her voice, into a whisper.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Adam asks, and BJ hides his smile. The story's already begun.

"Well, because of what happened," Lydia says, like it's obvious.

"What happened?" Barbara's hooked, now, leaning forward, to look at the little girl from across the fire.

"Are you serious?" he plays into it, looking from Adam and Barbara like he can't believe they haven't heard. "Jesus, you guys, it was a real life horror show. Okay.. Around 1970 somethin', all these campers start to go missin'. Th' cops go to investigate, an' from th' woods, they keep hearin' this awful moanin' noise. They get to th' campground, an' all th' tents are just... empty. Like all these people just stood up in th' middle of th' night an' walked away, an' just never came back."

"They only found noses," Lydia says, which is a new detail, and he rolls with it. "Th' cops figured th' person-"

"Or thing," Lydia says, voice low.

"Musta been eatin' th' bodies, an' couldn't figure out how to cook up noses."

"I had hoped this wasn't a cannibal story," Barbara says, glumly, and Adam's brow furrows. "There's no way this happened."

"An' why's that?"

"Because I would have heard of it. This is classic campfire story hyperbole."

"I'll hyper your bole, Sexy."

"Anyways," Lydia drags them back on track. "It's probably a good thing you're not buying it. We can just stop telling you about the whole thing. That's safer, for everyone."

"Oh, and why's that?" Adam smiles, amused. "Because talking about it makes the Shambler come?"

He's skipped a few narrative beats, but that's the basic gist, yes.

"Don't say that name so loudly," BJ admonishes him.

"Oh, come on! I thought you guys were horror masters, this is just a retelling of a retelling of a copy!"

"Adam, seriously-" Lydia sells it, looking agitated.

"Shambler, Shambler, Shambler!" Adam challenges.

The bushes behind them rustle. Barbara jumps, and Adam turns, and squints into the darkness. "Probably just a squirrel."

"Sounded bigger than that," Barbara says, softly, almost like she's in on it. God, what a perfect audience member she makes.

Adam stands, and Barbara and BJ follow, only pausing when the bushes rustle again, and a guttural, low groan echoes around them. Whether he knows he's done it or not, Adam takes a step closer to the two of them, and a slight step away from the bushes. "... Okay, that.. That, uh.."

The rustling is on the other side of them, now, and they all three whip their heads around, as the moaning noises grow louder, and louder, closer and closer.

"Adam," Lydia whispers in horror, from the campfire, blood oozing from her mouth. "What.. what did you do?"

She drops, and Barbara lets out a scream, horrified, and both teens go rushing to Lydia's side-

And that's when BJ grabs them both around the shoulders, and gives them a shake. "BOO~!"

The two of them jump a mile high, and turn to look at him, glares on both their faces, as he doubles over, laughing. Lydia, from the dirt, rolls over, laughing too, fake blood still oozing down her mouth and down her chin.

"You guys, come on, that was too easy!" BJ barely manages. "Fake blood capsules," Lydia grins up at their confused faces.

The horror twins are pelted with marshmallows.

#my writing #answered asks #beetlejuice fic #beetlelands fic #goldenbeetle fic #lydia deetz #beetlejuice #burnt marshmallows are the only good marshmallows this is a hill i will die on

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