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valwentinefics · 3 years

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Instincts - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader (omegaverse) 18+

Plot: Y/n, an unmated omega, forgets to get a refill of her suppressants, sending her into her heat while at work. Luckily for her notorious criminal and alpha Helmut Zemo is hiding out in the backroom. (Takes place after episode 4 of tfatws)

A/n: First of all I’m sorry, second of all I’m sorry, third of all, You’re welcome. This is my first time writing omegaverse so it’s probably not the best and I haven’t read an omegaverse fic in a hot minute. Sorry my smut is always so short, I really gotta work on that.

Warnings: smut, normal a/b/o things, possessive dirty talk, mentions of omegas being harmed, mentions of fear of being assaulted. (if i missed anything please let me know)

As an unmated omega, Y/n knew well of the dangers of the world. Everywhere she looked alphas lurked around looking for their own omega, a rare thing to have in this society. Although omegas were coveted and prized they were still at the bottom of the hierarchy and were expected to be subservient to whatever alpha marked them, a thought that terrified Y/n. Stories of alphas that harmed omegas were sickeningly common, and with everyone plastering on fake kindness in hopes to place their mark on her neck, Y/n was terrified she would end up a statistic.

Suppressants were Y/n’s saving grace, an illegal method to mask her true nature from the world and pose as a beta where she could live her life peacefully, something she could never do as an omega. If she were to get caught she could face serious time in a correctional facility built just for omegas to learn their place in the world, and so every day was filled with caution and fear.

“God I look like shit.” Y/n’s heavy eyes looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes deep and only looking worse due to the harsh fluorescent light buzzing away above her. The illegal suppressants had many side effects ranging from life threatening to mildly troublesome, but the one that affected Y/n most was the inability to fall asleep. Each night was spent tossing and turning, her body feeling restless.

Sluggishly Y/n grabbed her concealer, dabbing it on beneath her eyes, her hands shaking with exhaustion. She finished with a sigh, running her hands through her hair to remove any major knots. She didn’t have the energy to fully go through her hair, not seeing the point. She was hidden as a beta anyways, no one would give her a second glance. Y/n opened the medicine cabinet, looking for the white box of suppressants, only to not find it anywhere. Her stomach sank as she realized she forgot to get her refill yesterday. It would be fine though, she hoped. She had gone without them before and hadn’t gone in heat, surely it would be the same thing this time, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in her mind it wouldn’t be.

Y/n grabbed her perfume, spraying it on herself. The scent was cinnamon, similar to her natural scent as an omega, but it had the slight acrid scent of being a perfume. She hoped that would be enough to convince the alphas she passed by that she was just a beta wearing perfume. It wasn’t something she used often, only when her overtired brain didn’t remember to get the refill of her suppressants.

“That's good enough, I hope.” Y/n mumbled to herself. She smoothed out her short sundress, the light flowy fabric ending at her mid thigh. It was her favourite dress, she felt and knew she looked cute in it. Y/n didn’t like to wear things like this often, she didn’t want the attention of anyone, but frankly she felt like shit and needed the joy looking nice brought her.

The walk to the flower shop had Y/n’s body feeling hot, however she assumed it was the warm weather, not wanting her paranoia to make her miss work. The flower shop she owned was Y/n’s only source of income and it wasn’t a bad one at that. It was common for alpha’s to come in and buy bouquets to give to the first omega they see on the streets in an attempt to woo them. That was another reason Y/n refused to accept her status as an omega. Every bit of romance was just disingenuous. Alpha’s only wanted to have the honour of being chosen by an omega, they didn’t care about who that omega was. However, Y/n was happy it paid her bills.

The day went by smoothly until closing time when Y/n turned off the open sign, the neon light no longer lighting up the darkening street outside. As she grabbed her keys to leave a sharp pain went through her abdomen, causing a gasp to escape her throat. She rested a hand on the painful area, eyes wide. She should have listened to her instincts, she should have stayed home, but she didn’t and now she was going into heat in her store. Y/n paced, her mind running at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home, walking would be near impossible for her with her heat approaching fast. She would have to wait it through in her shop with no relief.

“Oh fuck…” Y/n groaned in pain, leaning against the wall. She knew she had to find something to eat to get the strength to get through this. With shaky steps she headed to the back, her hand glued to her abdomen as if that would alleviate her pain. As she approached the door to the back room her blood went cold, her nose picking up the faint scent of an alpha through the thick door.

She debated opening it. Her instincts were telling her to open it and get his help with the heat, her brain told her it could be dangerous. Eventually decided to confront him, to ask what he was doing and maybe for his help getting home if he didn’t seem too awful. With her keys clutched between her fingers just in case, she slowly opened the door, her body almost melting at the scent that wafted to her.

A man dressed in a long coat with a fur collar stared back at her with shock, the scent of pine trees wafting off of him. “Omega…?” He spoke with a Sokovian accented voice. It took Y/n a few moments before the identity of the dangerously handsome man registered in her mind. She had seen him on the news. He was Helmut Zemo, the man who almost single handedly destroyed the Avengers.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. “You’re Helmut Zemo… What- what are you doing here?” She asked, fixing her posture to appear assertive and trying her best to resist the urge to submit right there. A mixture of fear and arousal was filling her body to the point where she thought she might explode.

“So you’ve heard about me?” He tilted his head slightly. “I needed a place to hide for a bit, I’ve been scoping this place out. You’re the owner, Y/n, correct?” Y/n gulped but nodded, worried about why he was hiding out. “That doesn’t matter right now. Why are you here? It’s not safe for an omega in heat to be out in public.” He scolded as if Y/n didn’t know that. It was odd, having the notorious criminal seem to care about her safety. She wondered what he was trying to achieve, if anything.

“It wasn’t my choice okay?” She snapped, a wave of pain washed over her and she slumped against the door frame with a groan. Zemo got up, moving to her quickly but stopping once Y/n had flinched, worried he was going to try something.

“You need to get home, where’s your car? I'll escort you there.” He said, his voice was strained and Y/n’s eyes couldn’t help but land on the growing bulge in his pants. He was going into a rut which explained his current caring and protective nature. Her mouth watered at the thought of having his cock in her mouth but she tore her eyes away, looking to the side to avoid him.

“I don’t have a car… too expensive.” She groaned out, her breaths growing to pants as she started to overheat, fanning herself with her hand.

Zemo let out a staggered exhale, running his hand through his formerly perfectly done hair. “What’s your address? I’ll bring you there myself.” Y/n was impressed at the amount of self control this alpha had. Even as his rut was beginning he managed to stay calm and collected for the most part, but Y/n knew it was hard for him, sweat ran down his forehead as he strained to keep control.

Reluctantly Y/n told him her address knowing he was her best bet at getting home safely. A whimper escaped her throat as she felt her slick begin to drip down her thigh. She clenched her legs together, desire seeping into every part of her. She wanted the alpha’s knot more than anything she had ever wanted before. She could hardly focus on what Zemo was doing, not noticing he had draped his coat over her and picked her up until they were already out the door.

Zemo didn’t breathe as often as he needed while he walked, trying not to inhale Y/n’s scent as he moved at a quick pace, shooting piercing glares at every passerby that dared look their way. He felt protective over the little omega. His cock strained uncomfortably against his pants as his mind filled with thoughts of mating with her, but he pushed them back, not wanting to take advantage of her. Arriving at the apartment building he used her keys to unlock the door to the humble apartment, locating her room and placing her down on her bed. Y/n took off his coat and offered it back.

“You can keep the jacket for now, I’ll come back for it once you’re done with your heat.” He said, quickly turning around. Y/n’s hand shot out, grabbing his gloved hand.

“Please alpha, don't leave, help me.” She whimpered. Y/n didn’t know where that had come from, but she didn’t regret it, knowing it wasn’t just her heat talking. He was powerful, respectful, not to mention handsome. Everything a good mate should be, even though Y/n knew mating with a dangerous man like him was out of the question. Y/n found herself liking the man despite knowing what he had done and not knowing him long. She knew he would treat her well during her heat, if he accepted.

“Are you sure omega?” He asked, not facing her in fear that he would pounce on her as soon as he saw the desire in her eyes.

“Yes alpha, please…” Y/n whimpered again, giving his hand a small tug. “I need you”

That was all he needed to lose control. Zemo turned around to face her, stalking to the bed as he removed his shirt, straddling Y/n’s warm needy body. Her smaller hands reached out, undoing his belt and palming Zemo’s cock through his pants. Y/n couldn’t help the filthy thoughts that flooded her mind, desire for the dangerous man’s knot consuming her.

Zemo let out a groan, taking off his pants and boxers, letting his painfully hard cock free. Y/n’s eyes were clouded with lust as she leaned forward, mouth open and ready to suck it. He tapped the side of her cheek with his cock, running his hand through her hair and gripping it.

“No liebling, this is about you. I can wait for another time.” He let go of her hair and Y/n laid down, watching the alpha as he took off her panties and put her legs over his shoulders, running his cock slowly up and down her folds and coating itself in her slick, the tip teasing her as it came so close to going in. Y/n let out a little whine, letting him know she was growing impatient. “I apologize omega, it’s rude of me to tease.” He smirked before shoving himself all the way in easily.

Y/n’s toes curled as she let out a loud gasping moan, throwing her head back in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, the position they were in allowing him to reach every part of her with ease. His hands ran up and down her waist as he let out a deep moan. Y/n’s eyes were locked on him as he fucked her deeply, causing her to let out a whimper of pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you little omega, taking my cock so well.” He reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, rubbing circles into the soft flesh with his thumb. “Does it feel good?” His hand dropped from her cheek and began to rub her clit with just enough roughness to send her over the edge, a loud moan escaping her as she came.

“Yes, fuck! harder, please!” She said between moans, her hands tangling themselves in Zemo’s hair and gripping it as she panted.

Zemo moaned as he re-adjusted her legs on his shoulders, picking up the pace. “This pussy of yours, it’s mine now. I’ll fuck you through this heat and every heat you have next.” He growled, hitting Y/n’s sweet spot, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Y/n felt warm inside at his words. Her pussy clenched around his cock as the stimulation from him rubbing her clit and pounding into her sent her over the edge again, panting as she came hard. He was good at making her feel good, and for once Y/n was glad she was an omega.

“Fuck, you feel so good clenched around me. Do you want my knot in you, little omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked cockily, receiving a desperate whine from Y/n.

“Please, please, please!” She begged, the only thoughts filling her mind were those of need for his knot buried deep into her.

“How can I refuse... when you’re asking so nicely, liebling.” He spoke between grunts. His thrusts slowly became more sloppy and deep and Y/n knew he was about to cum.

With one last deep thrust Zemo buried his cock all the way into Y/n’s pussy, his knot trapping the two together as he emptied his cum into Y/n. She felt so full in a good way, her breaths heavy with exhaustion as she internally frowned at the thought of Zemo pulling out of her. His knot alleviated the worst of her heat and as she laid there sore and sweaty, her now clearer mind had no regrets about what had happened.

Zemo pulled out after a while, his knot going away. A smile danced on his lips as he saw the cum dripping out of her as he pulled out his cock. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as she moved to a more comfortable position on the bed. Zemo grabbed his jacket from the floor, dusting it off and draping it over the omega’s tired form. Hesitantly he hovered over her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head, deeply inhaling her scent.

Not wanting to intrude any more, he got dressed and walked over to the couch, exhaustion filling his body as he slumped down onto it, closing his eyes with a smile. He could tell he would need all the rest he could get while he rode out the omega’s heat with her. He was so happy he decided to hide out at that flower shop.

Tags: @peculiar-monstar @lovelyzabrak-meadow @captainsherlockwinchester110283

#a/b/o #omegaverse #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo #zemo smut

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

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All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration.

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start, I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand.

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down.

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain,

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed.

“We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin.

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had,

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way.

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option.

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you.

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him.

“I know. I’m sorry,”

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise.

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right?

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head,

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him?

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it.

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed.

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost.

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again.

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,”

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide.

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting. He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life?

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love.

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women?

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it?

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that?

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted.

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that?

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too.

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence.

“Come on, dance with me,”

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple. He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy.

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now. When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known.

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,”

You should’ve known.

But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing.

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave.

You have to leave.

Part Two

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steggy #the avengers #marvel #captain america

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dameronology · 4 years

Text

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning

It had only been five days.

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe.

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy.

‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn.

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response.

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in.

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting.

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor.

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled.

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments.

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours.

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled.

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries.

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love.

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep.

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress.

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him.

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights.

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly.

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile.

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron blurb #poe x reader #poe x you #poe fluff #poe imagines #poe imagine #poe blurb #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars imagines #star wars imagine

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Text

Thank you to @doinmybesthere for inspiring this and making me h word with a capital "I'm writing this shit at my desk"

Warnings: v*yerism, c*ckwarming, praise, degradation, no condom, after care

"Hey guys! Don't mind Y/N she had a rough day, so she is gonna chill on my lap while we work!" You have no idea how your boyfriends voice can sound so nonchalant when he was currently balls deep in your aching pussy. Thankfully, you convinced him to let you sit with your back to the computer and a blanket wrapped around you. There was no way you could keep a straight face while doing this.

Honestly, you didn't know why you could win a gaming bet against Denki.... That man was always playing video games when he wasn't with you. He even worked at a graphic design company ffs. But stubborn you couldn't say no to a challenge and that is exactly why you are now in this situation.

"Well, she better not bug us while we are working. We gotta get this presentation done today and I won't except anything less than perfect." No doubt that was Bakugo, that douchebag always sounded pissy.

"You don't have to be so mean BakuBro!" Kirishima, the sweetheart thought he was defending you.

You could hear the smirk in Denki's voice. "No worries man! She just had a hard day; she won't disturb us. Right doll?" He ended his sentence with a shallow thrust that to anyone else, probably looked like he was shifting you to make your position more comfortable.

However, with the way he was holding your hips his cock hit the spot that always made you scream so when he moved you let out a sob. Your face bursts into flames and you cling onto him tighter, the guys on the computer not making a sound for a hot minute.

Someone clears their throat, and you can feel Denki laughing at you.

Kirishima finally breaks the awkward silence "See dude, she's even crying! Someone must have pushed her buttons too much."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding but miss the sound of someone coughing to cover a laugh.

As the guys start working you tune out their voices, more concerned with not making any more sounds. You can vaguely hear two other voices and assume its Sero and Mina.

I guess the whole group is working for this job.

Almost like he can tell you aren't thinking of his cock Denki shifts you again. This time thrusting harder, making you gasp and shudder in his hold.

"Just makin’ sure you aren't forgetting about me baby." He whispers in your ear, so close you can feel his lips brush against your skin.

"Oi! Pay attention dunce face! Don't get cocky just because you have Y/N on your lap." Bakugo’s voice sounds deep and breathy for some reason but Denki has started thrusting into you at a slow pace fucking all thoughts out of your brain.

You think you hear whining and can’t tell if the sound came from you or someone else. Denki’s pace picks up and your breathing gets heavy, your mouth open arms wrapping tightly around Denki’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah dude…. don’t wanna get caught in… in a tight spot.” Mina’s voice is wobbly, the sound distracting you from the cock pumping in and out of you for a moment. When your hearing focuses on the sounds from the computer you go very very still.

Heavy breaths, whimpers and moans, the unmistakable sound of skin rubbing against skin that you would know anywhere.

“OH, fuck doll…. you just got so tight. You like having people see what a good slut you are?” Your boyfriend gives up on being discreet and pulls the blanket off of you exposing what’s happening to the camera.

You moan, the sound echoed by the people on the other side of the screen. Your cunt only getting tighter as they say dirty things to you.

“What a dirty little slut, you like being fucked on camera Y/N?”

“Wow pebble, look at you takin that cock so well.”

“What I wouldn’t give to taste that pussy while I sit on your face.”

“Ay dios mío. You got a nice ass baby.”

Denki can feel your orgasm fast approaching as his friends talk to you so he turns you around so they can see your face and holds you up while fucking into you at a merciless pace.

“Oh god…. oh, fuck D-Denki m’gonna cum baby.” You forget about everything as your boyfriend thrusts into you, hitting your g spot and butting against your cervix. You look up at the computer screen and your moans get louder, your orgasm hurtling towards you.

All of Denki’s friends are getting off on watching you. Kirishima and Bakugo sitting in their computer chairs with their shirts in their mouths, stroking their cocks. Mina is laying on her bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit, her tongue lolling out of her mouth while she looks at you with half lidded eyes. Sero is standing up, you can only see from his neck down as he fucks a pocket pussy, timing the thrusts to match Denki’s as he fucks you.

“Why don’t you show them how good I make you feel baby yeah? Cum on my cock and tell me who’s pussy this is doll face.”

You look right into the camera as you come undone, screaming your boyfriends name and cumming hard. As your vision blacks out you can hear the others getting close to finishing, you think it’s over and slump against Denki.

You are surprised when Denki turns the chair back around and leans back, showing even more of your cunt to the group and somehow fucking you even harder. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he puts an arm around your waist holding you tight then shoving a hand in between you both to rub at your clit.

“Gonna fill this pussy up but you gotta cum for me again baby.”

You let out a sob and shake your head. “Nooo I c-can’t baby. It’s too much.”

“I know you can do it; be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”

Despite your protests you can feel your core tightening, the feeling different from your last orgasm.

“Fuck yes baby, I can feel it. Cum for me doll, milk my cock baby.” Denki’s thrusts get sloppy and after a few more swipes of his fingers on your clit you are gushing all over his cock the chair, and the computer.

Your whole body goes limp, but Denki moves his hand and grabs both of your ass cheeks, pulling them apart while he cums and fills your pussy up.

The sounds of his friends reaching their peaks echoing in the speakers, the feeling of Denki’s cum leaking from your abused hole. Everyone is silent for a few minutes catching their breath, minds reeling from the situation that just occurred.

“Alright folks.” Denki sits the chair back up and scoots closer to the computer, trying his best to not jostle you. “Gotta take care of my baby! See ya’ll later.”

Before anyone can protest, he shuts off the computer and gently pulls out of you with a hiss.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” Denki cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead then your nose. You hum in agreement and wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up.

You are both quiet as he sits you on the bathroom counter and turns on the shower. As you watch him get undressed a thought pops into your head.

“So… umm.” Denki turns to you, a quizzical look on his face. “Who do you think is gonna ask first?”

He tilts his head not catching your meaning then laughs. “Oh, Sero for sure! Mina will be there when he does probably.”

He walks over to you and helps you off the counter, opening the shower door and letting you in first.

“What about Kiri and Bakugou?”

“Oh, Kirishima will take a little bit since he wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings. Bakugou would pretend that Kiri dragged him along, but he would be hard the second he walked through the door and saw you.”

You chuckle, tilting your head into the warm spray and sighing. You both stand there in silence, basking in the post orgasmic bliss.

“So, should I take next weekend off?” You look into your boyfriend’s eyes and smile.

Denki laughs and pats your head. “I would take the whole week baby, there is no way you are walking out of this apartment after that.”

@patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @wtf-vickyy @reinawritesbnha

#lillith writes #lilliths fic #lilliths masterlist #denki x reader #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x y/n #kaminari x y/n #bhna x reader #mha x reader

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capcarolsdanver · 4 years

Text

Why Her? (Part 1)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog.

Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader A/N: Oops accidentally took another way too long break from posting. I was still writing during this time, trying to structure some kind of schedule, but every time I reread my writing I always end up wanting to rewrite most of what I have, which is exactly what happened with this one. This is part 1 of 4, more of an intro than anything. Part 2 coming very soon!

As always, feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think, or even any suggestions you have for future parts! It is all written but I’m open to making some adjustments if people have any good ideas to bring to the story!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

You take another generous sip from the coffee cup in your hands, practically cradling it as if it’s your most prized possession. Although, that’s what you would be inclined to referred to it as in this moment. You relied on coffee during most of your days at the best of times, but even more so while you’re nursing a hangover like the one you currently have.

You groan quietly to yourself when you realise you’ve reached the last drop of your precious caffeinated drink, placing the cup on the table in front of you and dropping your head into your arms in probably the most dramatic fashion you can muster.

You vaguely acknowledge the sound of footsteps getting louder as they approach you but you quickly dismiss them as yet another student walking passed your table in the campus library and choose to ignore in favour continuing to feel sorry for yourself. You take note to never sit at one of the tables closest to the entrance again. Foot traffic has quickly become your least favourite thing.

It suddenly occurs to you that you can no longer hear the footsteps. How long had you been zoned out for? Surely whoever the footsteps belong to couldn’t have already passed you without any other sound.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?”

The voice beside you isn’t over the top loud or anything, but it still doesn’t stop you from jumping in your seat, your head springing up. You instantly wince, warily bringing your fingers to your temples in a useless attempt to ease your pounding headache.

The girl standing by your table, Sarah, scrunches her features in apology.

“Sorry,” she sheepishly apologises. “I did see you at the party last night. Didn’t think you were much of a drinker, though.”

“I’m usually not, especially when I have class the next morning,” you grumble. “Last night was a mistake that will never happen again.”

Sarah laughs quietly, clearly trying to be mindful of your current state. “I figured I’d find you here this morning. I just have one question about class and then I promise I’ll leave you in peace and quiet again.”

“Shoot,” you say in as pleasant a tone as you can manage, deciding to spare her from your complaints about how not at all quiet the library of all places has proven to be so far that morning.

Sarah smiles a grateful smile and sits opposite you before asking a question about some paper you had received in your shared class the previous day. You can barely comprehend what she’s asking you but you answer as best as you can, which seems to be enough because Sarah is again smiling brightly and standing from her seat.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

“How about telling me how the hell you avoid getting a hangover. I saw you last night too. I swear you drank more than everybody else combined.”

Sarah chuckles and turns to leave. “Call it talent,” she says, waving over her shoulder as she retreats.

You wave back and watch her leave.

You wouldn’t necessarily call the two of you “friends”, but you and Sarah share an English class together and you seem to find yourself at the same get togethers and parties frequently, and had always gotten along well enough. You were sure if you actually took the time to hang out together you would probably be easy friends.

You take a heavy breath and release it when you realise you’re alone again, and just barely start feeling sorry for yourself again before a figure is slumping into the chair next to you with absolutely no consideration to your clearly less than ideal state.

You jump even more than when Sarah had startled you and your hand flies to your heart.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. Your body was so not prepared for these kinds of interactions today.

“Sorry,” the girl says, kindly enough but with much less sincerity than Sarah. You don’t recognise her and you look at her with wide eyes, trying to figure out who she is.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, actually,” she says, apparently missing the bite in your tone, or just choosing to ignore it. “That girl you were just talking to. You’re friends with her, right?”

You instinctively look in the direction of the main entrance, where Sarah had disappeared through just moments go.

“Uh, kinda?” You reply, unsure. “I guess. I mean, we have a class together but-“ you interrupt yourself, remembering that you have no idea who this stranger is or what she wants. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you want from me?”

“I was wondering if you could help me get a date with her.” She says it so matter-of-factly that she doesn’t seem to recognise how entirely strange her words are. All you can do is blink at her in response.

“Excuse me?”

You have never actually considered that Sarah could be interested in women. Sure, she was an attractive girl and she was always nothing but friendly to you, but for whatever reason you just weren’t interested in her in that way. And now that you think about it, you’ve never actually seen her with anyone else, not even at any of the parties you’d attended.

The girl in front of you, however, obviously had considered it, and had somehow come to the conclusion that Sarah was interested in dating women.

“Do you even know her?” You ask.

“Not at all. Why do you think I’m asking for your help?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” You have to admit that you’re still confused by her request. She seemed confident enough coming here to talk to you. So why would she need any help talking to Sarah?

“Oh, I’m like, notoriously bad at talking to women I’m interested in,” she easily explains. “I can’t flirt for the life of me and I’m way too awkward to try to convince a girl that she definitely wants to leave a party with me.”

You’re left without a response once more, blinking at the girl as she offers you a half smile and watches you. After a long moment, she seems to remember something, sitting up straighter to regard you again.

“Oh! I’m Brie by the way!” She holds out her hand towards you and you drop your eyes to stare at it for a moment, your hungover brain working at half speed before you realise she’s offering to shake your hand.

Your hand grips hers weakly and she shakes it with her own. Her handshake is firm yet gentle, though you don’t really know what to look for in a good handshake. Brie seems to hold back a laugh at the awkwardness of the situation.

“And you are…?” She regards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh! I’m Y/N.” You shake your head as if you were clearing the fog inside of it. “Sorry. It’s been a bit of a rough morning.” You force a chuckle. She squints her eyes at you for a moment before a look of recognition flashes across her face.

“Ah, I thought I recognised you. You were at that party last night, right?”

You look at her in surprise. Usually, no one ever seems to recognise or remember you from any of the parties you attend. You’d always been a loner to some level. Not totally socially inept but enough so that you generally flew under the radar quite easily.

You nod. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“Yeah, by the time I showed up you seemed pretty plastered,” she chuckles and your cheeks immediately flush. You hadn’t meant to drink so much the previous night, but what started out as a couple of drinks had very quickly multiplied the more you had allowed yourself to wallow in your own self pity. You uncharacteristically had let the fact that you were at yet another party alone get to you.

Brie seems to notice your discomfort because she thankfully has the decency to move the conversation on fairly quickly.

“So, you think you can help me?”

You’d completely forgotten the reason why she had even started talking to you in the first place, but your brain eventually catches up and your eyebrows lift when you remember her request.

“Oh. Um…”

“Okay, listen,” Brie interrupts, watching you with amusement in her eyes. “I’ve gotta go. But if you decide you might want to help me, here’s my number.”

She grabs the notebook that you forgot you even had open in front of you and slides it across the table towards herself. She quickly scribbles her phone number in the corner of the open page and slides the notebook back towards you.

Brie stands up, considering you for a moment before she reaches into her bag that’s slung over her shoulder. You’re still several steps behind, looking down at the set of numbers she had written in your notebook, when she drops two aspirins in front of you. You startle, looking up at her and finding her smirking down at you.

“Take these, they’ll make you feel better. And maybe they'll convince you to help me, too,” she says, barely giving you a second to respond before she, too, is leaving you alone at the table.

You sit in stunned silence for a few moments until your eyes drift towards the large clock on the wall opposite you and you catch sight of the time. If you don’t leave now, you’ll definitely be late for your first class of the day. You half consider your options, wondering how much you’d really miss if you just skipped one class in favour of going back to your dorm to nap.

Eventually you let out a deep sigh and stand up, knowing you’ll just end up beating yourself up later if you let yourself miss a class because of your poor choices from the previous night. You quickly throw your belonging into your book bag, only pausing to look at the two aspirins Brie had left for you. You pick them up and quickly swallow them down with a gulp of water from your water bottle before you’re rushing out of the library doors and towards your class.

#brie larson x reader #brie larson fic #brie larson imagine #captain marvel #mcu imagine #brie larson #mine #fic

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thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 4 years

Text

Request: “#48 with Sam + ‘enemies to lovers’ and ‘stubborn Sam’” by @encounterthepast

Prompt: "Of all the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it had to be you."

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of claustrophobia, there’s a swearword (oh, my), some angst and fluff

A/N: Sam’s kind of a brat in this one but I had fun writing it. Enjoy! :)

Beta: @princessmisery666

JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX

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Sam’s eyes darted across the parking lot as he made his way over to the entrance of an impressively tall office building. He was still expecting you to show up out of nowhere, like you had the day before when he learned he wasn’t the only hunter in town for this current case.

He would have taken any other partner on this job, really, but not you. Which was why he had made it clear he wanted you to leave. He knew better than to think you would listen to him. You had hijacked a case from him a few years back, so it was clear to him you had a hard time leaving things to someone else when that person told you they could handle it.

The two of you had crossed paths a couple of times since then, and there had always been this feeling of tension that made Sam incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention how, every time you so much as looked at him, his blood started to boil. Everything you said, he wanted to pick apart bit by bit, to correct every detail. It got a rise out of you, which was what he aimed for during most of his interactions with you.

He couldn’t help it. There was just something about you.

Fortunately, since your encounter the day before, he had yet to see your face again. While entering the building and flashing his badge at the man behind the desk, Sam went over the case in his head to try and replace the thoughts of you with ones of work.

People in town had been falling victim to vicious animal attacks – inside their homes, with the doors locked.

A quick visit to the Medical Examiner's office had provided Sam with the knowledge that he was dealing with hellhounds. Which meant demons were involved. And so far, every victim was, or had at some point in time been, an employee of the company that resided in the office building he had made his way into.

Someone was persuading the people that worked there to make demon deals, and Sam was going to find out who.

He stepped into the elevator and turned around to press the button for the floor he had been told the last victim’s office was on. When he looked up, he spotted you, entering the building and making your way over to him.

Sam’s hand reached out to press the button to close the doors. A second look in your direction told him you had quickened your pace. The black heels of your makeshift FBI uniform clicked on the marble floor. Sam pressed again.

The doors finally started to close, but they moved way too slow for his liking. He hit the button again. Then again, and again. The interval between his clicks became faster but it was as if the doors were moving in slow-motion instead.

Just in time, you slipped in, the doors locking the both of you in as the elevator began its ascend.

You greeted him with an aloof tone, “Samuel.” You had been calling him by his full name since that one time he had specifically told you not to.

Sam gritted his teeth, hating how you were already getting under his skin. “Get out,” he said flatly.

“You want me to jump out of a moving elevator?” Before Sam could open his mouth to respond, you quickly added, “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“I know why you’re here,” Sam said. He didn’t want to talk to you, but an insuppressible urge was making him do it anyway.

“Oh,” you said, sounding intrigued, “and why is that?”

From the corner of his eye, Sam could see you turning to look at him, but he kept his gaze straight ahead when he answered, “To sabotage another one of my cases.”

Your chuckle bounced off the walls in the small space. “When are you going to let that one go?” you asked. “I didn’t sabotage your case, I solved it for you.”

Sam turned abruptly, his jaw setting and eyes narrowing. He wasn’t in the mood to play your games. “Without keeping me in the loop,” he reminded you, even though he was certain you knew exactly what he was getting at. “You almost got me arrested. I showed up to that cemetery with my shovel, salt and lighter, and the cops were already there because someone had set fire to a bunch of remains.”

“You gotta admit that was pretty funny,” you quipped, lips breaking into a grin. “That look on your face...” You shook your head in amusement. “Priceless.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You were watching?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Your shrug only infuriated him more. “What can I say?” The grin on your face grew wider. “I couldn’t resist.”

All Sam could do was send you one of his deadliest glares. Still, you seemed to remain unfazed.

His eyes shifted from you to the little black screen that displayed the current level you were on. His hand moved to the panel at his side and he pressed the button for the next floor.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the elevator stopped and a ding sounded as the doors opened to reveal an empty hallway.

“Get out,” he said again.

You rolled your eyes and stayed put. “I don’t do stairs,” you told him.

For a moment, Sam considered getting out himself. At least that way he could get away from you. But taking the stairs felt like letting you win, so he watched the doors close and the number on the little screen begin to rise again as the elevator did the same.

It inched closer to your destination. Then, the screen went dark. Before either of you could respond, the elevator jolted to a stop. You stumbled against Sam, and he reached out reflexively, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

For a few seconds, all that could be heard were the sounds of your breathing. Then you glanced up at Sam and he quickly let go of you while clearing his throat. He took a step back and so did you, putting as much distance between the two of you as the limited space would allow.

Sam made sure to look anywhere but directly at you. He tried all of the buttons, then tried them again. Even the emergency alert wasn’t working. Having worked countless cases that involved sudden setbacks, he doubted this was a simple coincidence.

In his head, he could already picture the demon and his suspected buddies messing with the powerlines to buy themselves some time. The last thing Sam wanted was for them to be able to properly prepare for a fight while he was stuck in a cube with no way out.

Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts, but it was the way it went paired with uneven breathing that finally made him look at you again.

“This isn’t happening,” you said before breathing in sharply. “We’re stuck, aren’t we? That’s just great. We’re fucking stuck.” You moved over to the buttons and pressed them all like Sam had tried a moment ago. Still, nothing worked. Your fist slammed the emergency alert button several times but all you seemed to get for your effort was a more constricted breathing.

“Are you...” Sam looked for the right word as he watched you move back over to the wall. “Panicking?”

“No!” Your reply was sharp but the wheezing sound of your breath didn’t make you sound very convincing.

“You are,” Sam spoke matter of factly. “You’re having a panic attack. Are you claustrophobic?”

“I’m fine,” you spat. “And I am certainly not having a panic attack.”

Sam rolled his eyes at your unwavering stubbornness. Who’d you think you were – him? “I have a brother who always tries to sell me the same crap,” he told you. “I know a panic attack when I see one, Y/N.” He looked you over and waited for your eyes to meet as if to prove a point. “You never struck me as the cliché-phobia type of person. Thought you were supposed to be this tough hunter.”

He knew that wasn’t fair of him to say, but the words had left his lips before he could stop himself. It was simply the way he was used to conversing with you. Usually, you had a snarky reply ready, but obviously now was not the right time.

Sam was about to mutter an apology of sorts when the glare you sent his way made him pause. Not because he was fazed by your hatred for him, he had dealt with that before. But because he saw something else in your eyes. Fear.

“Maybe...” you puffed between short, fast-paced breaths. You were still trying to act as if nothing was wrong, but your hand had moved to grab a hold of the steel railing attached to the wall and your body was slumped over slightly. “Maybe I’m not freaking out because I’m trapped, but because of who I’m trapped with. Of all the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it had to be you. It just had to be you, didn’t it? Damn it!”

It was clear getting agitated took a lot out of you. Sam could see your knuckles turning white as you gripped the railing tighter.

Despite your obvious distress, something was still keeping a hold of Sam’s own stubbornness. It stopped him from tapping into his sympathetic side and instead made him say, “So, you admit you’re freaking out, then?”

You rolled your eyes so hard your head tipped to the side. Or maybe the movement was caused by your brain not getting enough oxygen, because Sam could see your eyelids beginning to droop as well. Had your knees been shaking this badly the entire time?

Your body toppled forward and, in a split second, Sam was there to catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you against him, before slowly lowering the both of you to the floor.

“Woah, hey, easy there,” he spoke softly.

Your head was resting against his chest, causing a flutter to erupt in Sam’s stomach. He swallowed hard before gently reaching for your face. Cradling your head in his hands as if it was the most fragile thing he had ever touched, Sam pulled you back so he could look at you.

“Just concentrate,” he said. “Eyes on me.” He pulled one hand away to point two fingers at his own eyes. Though your gaze was glazed over, he was happy to see you obliged.

“Good,” Sam spoke, trying to be heard over the sharp wheezing of your panicked breaths. He could feel your body shake in his arms. “Now we’re gonna breathe, slowly. You and me, together. Think you can do that?”

The shake of your head made him purse his lips. “As always, I disagree with you,” he said. He thought he caught the faintest of smiles on your lips. “Just follow my lead, all right?”

Sam began taking in deep breaths through his nose, releasing them slowly through his mouth. He told you to try it, then breathed with you, counting the seconds for each inhale and exhale to help you focus.

“Good,” he said again, “you got it.”

When he was convinced you had mastered the rhythm, he allowed himself to assess the situation. To his surprise, his own heartbeat had picked up its pace as well. But his breathing exercise hadn’t helped to calm it down. Something told him that wouldn’t be possible for as long as your body was so close to his.

Your cheeks regained their color and your gaze seemed to be able to focus again. After another slow exhale pressed through your lips, you leaned back. “Thank you,” you said. There wasn’t a hint of hostility left in your voice. For the first time since he met you, you sounded genuine.

Sam blinked a few times before shaking his head to make himself focus. “Any time,” he grinned at you.

Instead of having time to evaluate the sudden change in dynamic that was clearly felt by the both of you, you were forced back into the reality of the demon hunt when the elevator suddenly started to move again. Sam was back on his feet in an instant, reaching out his hand to help you up.

“You good?” he said, eyeing your legs, half expecting them to start wobbling again.

You nodded, and only then did you seem to notice your hand had yet to let go of his. Sam didn’t mind the few seconds you waited before pulling it free.

“You know,” Sam said, “once this thing stops moving again and those doors open, there’s gonna be a bunch of demons waiting to kill us.”

The grin on your face washed away the last bits of worry he felt toward your current state. “I say, let ‘em try.”

You both turned to face the steel doors when the elevator came to a halt. Sam reached for the demon knife he had hidden in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, you widened your stance and balled your fists.

The now familiar ding sounded again, followed by the slow opening of the doors.

#JJ's fics #JJR100 #supernatural #sam x reader #spn drabble #angst #fluff #sam winchester #sam winchester drabble #spnfanficpond

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memcaked · 4 years

Text

send him home in a limejuice tub!

Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You

Relationships: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Hanekoma Sanae, Sakuraba Neku & Honjo Sota

Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Hanekoma Sanae, Honjo Sota

Additional tags: Alternate viewpoint, Mostly canon dialogue, Week 2 Day 6, Introspective, Character study, Gift fic, TWEWY Secret Valentine, Not beta read

Summary: Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. Instincts, skin, nails - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin buried into the heels of his palms, threatening to break his skin.

Beginning notes: This was made for ShibuyaPharmacy as part of the TWEWY Secret Valentine event. She asked for art or writing with Joshua, Minamimoto, or Fret, so obviously it meant I had to enact one of my TWEWY ideas rolling around in my brain for this. Inspired by a tumblr post which I can sadly not find written by @/shadnoise analysing Joshua's body language in this scene, and pushed out today for my headcanon birthday for Joshua. Happy birthday to this anime game guy who hasn't left my brain for years I think its because we share a star sign

Body:

No matter how Joshua’s beams of light should be vaporising the Taboo noise the sound of them being Erased is always the same: screeching, scraping, like the coalescing of Shibuya soul and the something Minamimoto put into the refinery sigil roiling in its soul code. It's the same discordant chords striking their way across Shibuya this week. They’re awful, through and through - Joshua hacks on their smoke-and-oil stench, whether it's a horn or a kick or quills they leave his skin stinging and red. Taboo noise were nothing, a mystery untold until this week and it doesn’t do anything to convince him that this place can be saved when it's able to foster the frenzied supernoise brainchild of some young Officer with a usurper fantasy. Sanae would tell him J, you always think everyone’s out to get you, and he didn’t believe Joshua when he cited his evidence. As he feels himself falling out of the Noise plane he argues with Strawnae that his attempted murderer has learnt how to breed the dark arts and if he’ll even let him go he’s meant to be doing it thinking he shouldn’t be so negative and everyone he meets is an angel.

They drop back into the UG, or only Neku as he floats in the air. Down on the ground he’s planted to his feet, looking expectantly on wounded, Erased-to-be Sota. He should’ve put the unpartnered timers on their hands before he gave up his powers and his clairvoyance, has to count it by himself with one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four, without any ticking clock that he can see or divine when it’ll happen. “You OK?”

“Yeah... you saved my ass,” Sota cracks a half-smile, the muscles on the left side of his face going limp. His chuckle is half-hearted, a little pained. He knows his erasure is inevitable to be genuine about it, Joshua thinks along with eleven mississippi. “Heh, for now, anyway. I lost Nao... I don't have much longer.” He groans, body shaking as his voice cracks and a second of static courses through him.

Neku droops, his hair falling under his eyes, head buried in collar, spine slumped. “If... if we'd gotten here sooner--” Twenty two mississippi, twenty three mississippi.

“Ain't your fault, dawg. I wasn't strong enough. End of story,” He wheezes, gags a little trying to get the air back. The static flashes repeat, repeat, the pauses closing in. “Neku and Joshua, right?” Joshua lifts his head up, makes eye contact with Sota.

“Yeah.”

“You two survive,” The right side of his face falls. thirty nine mississippi, forty mississippi, “Get your old partner back,” He painfully clings to the last happy face he has, static almost falling out of his screwed-up eyes. “I hope all three of ya get back safe.”

He’s Erased with a buzzed heave, gone in a flash and a crackle. Sota Honjo, small-time criminal, Nao’s partner(-in-crime), joins her in Shibuya’s soul. Sixty mississippi. Neku runs into his spot, the crest of a building’s tall shadow, squinting towards the silver-lined rooftops. He shakes his fist, voice crashing up an octave, “Fucking reapers!”

“Angry, I see,” Joshua lowers himself down, huffing when he scuffs his sneakers on the pavement. When Neku whips his mink-lithe body around Joshua almost hears cracking bones.

“Hell yes, I’m angry!” The vessels in his eyes look swollen red, like if he has to feel for any moment longer they’ll burst into blood and tears.

“So what?” Joshua isn’t particularly interested in making eye contact with Neku - he runs the stopwatch in his head again. “At least you’re still in the game.”

Neku lunges two steps forward, the same shaking fist maybe two inches from Joshua’s nose. “Yeah, and what about those who didn’t? Screw the game!” He stomps his feet on the pavement and makes Joshua forget what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “They’re people, not toys!”

Neku Sakuraba himself, grandstanding about people? People? The ones he was bemoaning a few days ago, the ones he hated so much Joshua chose him. He was such a rugged survivalist - knew how little time Beat and Rhyme had and only caved when they thought it was a good idea - and suddenly when he echoes Neku, Joshua walking away from this with a bruised bloody nose seems to rest in the balance of his outburst. The adrenaline of his thoughts distill into a slow cool-tongued mumble. “Why the sudden interest? I didn’t think you cared about other people.”

“No…” The taut muscles in Neku’s knuckle strain, his voice run ragged by his screaming? His crying? His energy?

The trail-off’s a chance for Joshua to load bullets into his barrel. “No what?”

Neku clears his throat and backs away, opens the sore fist into a palm. “Sure, other Players are strangers. Not just Players. Everyone,” Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. “I don't know who they are, where they're from, what they care about,” Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. “But... since I came to the UG, I... I've talked with them a little.” instincts, skin, nails - “Got to know them a little. Felt them a little…” - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin, “Felt my world grow. Just a tiny, tiny bit,” buried into the heels of his palms, “It's different now. They're not just some strangers. I can't shut them out like that.” threatening to break his skin.

“My my,” He’ll understand, Joshua keeps assuring himself. Neku wouldn’t exactly be joyful but he’ll agree Shibuya needs to be shut down, die off with him. He’s - and a lump forms in Joshua’s throat - sounding like now, he won’t back down. “This isn’t like you at all.” He doesn’t even want to make eye contact. How does he get through to Neku? “Well, don’t get your hopes up. You’ll never really understand the people around you.”

“Enjoy the moment.” It’s what imprinting does to people but he only realises how wrapped Neku was around Sanae’s middle finger to Joshua’s crisis of function. Neku’s eyes shine, he mourns the Erased, he thought they’d walk together hand in hand but Joshua feels more and more like he’s reaching an arm out for someone crossing a threshold he can’t.

“Hmm?” Joshua imagines Sanae sitting on Neku’s shoulder, adjusting his halo and sitting in the white flowy robes he hates. Frustration shoots up his fingers and digs harder into his hands.

“Enjoying your world means making it bigger,” Joshua remembers how Neku told him of a girl who’s grip floated up and away from him. “I finally get that.” Joshua remembers that erased couple, arms linked in life, death, erasure, the erased couple who would hold Neku, Joshua, Shiki, everyone in their hands if they didn’t only have two. “The world as one person sees it is tiny.” Joshua remembers Neku, every day in his solitude admiring the mural, rubbing and caressing the wall of paint. “You've gotta... gotta reach out to other people.” Joshua glances back at Neku’s shoulder. He can’t see anything. His hands unfurl, hang free and limp at his side.

“...... Hee hee.” He doesn’t feel anything in his throat. “Maybe so. Only by allowing strangers in can we find new ways to be ourselves.” He wrings his body, one he needs to get used to. “It's possible. This mission looks like it’s up to us.”

Neku silently starts moving towards Q-Heads before stopping, staring over his shoulder while his partner stares at splayed hands. “Joshua?”

"Hold on,” he picks at his fingers, “I’ve broken a nail.”

Ending notes: Not exactly sastified with this but its been a busy lead-up to Valentine's offline and online, I'm glad this is done, and I'm happy if at least one person enjoys what I've wrote. Happy valentine's day, Jordan!

#twewy #the world ends with you #neku sakuraba #joshua kiryu #yoshiya kiryu #sanae hanekoma #fanworks #writing

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strayneoculturekids · 5 years

Text

Jealousy - Ten x Reader

Summary: You, as an upcoming artist in America, are contacted by the one and only SM to do a collab with NCT. You immediately agree and straight away are drawn to one of the members, Ten. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

Idol AU, strangers to friends to lovers AU

Genre: fluff, crack

request by @am-az-ber: can you write a Ten imagine where he meets a rising singer from America/Canada and they’re doing a collab for SM station and he teaches her to dance but then he’s scared Johnny’s gonna make a move so a confession happens?

Warnings: I have no idea what I’m doing or how the music industry works

You quickly blinked, being snapped back to reality by a familiar ring tone coming from your phone. Stretching your arms, you let out a noise that sounded like a dying baby dragon before temporarily turning away from the new lyrics you had been working on to grab your phone, answering the call from your manager.

“Hey, glad you’re up”

“Why wouldn’t I be up-” You started but looked at your clock before you could finish the sentence, seeing it was almost 4am “...oh”

“Yeah. Anyways though, SM reached out to me”

“SM? As in the kpop company that’s part of the big three SM???”

“That’s the one. They want you to do a collab with the boy group NCT”

You paused, your jaw dropping. NCT? You’d been lightly following them for quite some time now and their music was incredible! They were such good dancers and their personalities were all just- wow.

“I-I’d love to do a collab with NCT!” You tried to suppress the excitement bubbling up in your throat

“Great! I’ll tell them. In the meantime though, you should get some sleep” She spoke caringly

“Ah, I will. You too though!”

“Will do. Goodnight Y/N”

With that, she hung up. You slowly placed down your phone, the biggest smile ever suddenly finding it’s way onto your face and you low-key started doing a happy dance in your chair. It was really awesome you’d be doing a collab with NCT! Your one worry though was dancing...hey, maybe you wouldn’t have to? After you had finally calmed down and the initial buzz in your brain had washed over a bit, the exhaustion from the past few nights had finally set in. It seemed like it was only when you realized the time that you were actually tired.

Getting up from your chair, you looked around your studio, deciding you’d just sleep on the couch for today since driving in your current state would be too much of a risk.

As soon as you plopped yourself down on the couch and your head hit the cushions, you were out.

About nine hours had passed and you were so rudely awoken from whatever you would call sleeping from 4am to 1pm by your phone, a recognizable tune playing from it. You groggily got up, rubbing your eyes and going to your desk where you had left your phone, answering your manager yet again.

“NCT is coming tomorrow,” she said, seeming extremely slightly panicked

“Tomorrow?! That’s so soon!!” Hearing her words along with her panicked voice when she was usually calm sent you into a frenzy as well

“I know! But they’re coming to us so it shouldn’t really be a problem?” She said, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself of the statement

“Ok, ok. They’re coming to this building?” you asked, referring to the building your studio was in; also the building you were currently in

“Yeah, we’ll gather in the lobby at around midday tomorrow” she paused, taking in a breath “Also, you need to learn the dance for the title song”

you almost choked on your spit “The whole thing?!”

“Yeah...one of the members will be teaching you after we make the song and they make the choreo. Oh, also you and NCT are going to write the whole album together” You could hear a strained smile in her voice, it seemed like she felt just as pained as you with all this sudden new information

“I- writing lyrics with 21 other people?”

“You’ll be doing collabs with each individual group...NCT Dream only has one English speaker so it could be difficult but...let’s hope it turns out ok”

“Oh, my goshhhhhhh” you breathed, rubbing your eyes once again “Ok, this is fine. I’m uh...I’m gonna go home and get ready for tomorrow, see you then and take care!” you pumped your fist for encouragement, mostly to yourself

“Will do, good luck” and with that, she hung up

Letting out a large breath, you got up, grabbing your keys and walking out of your studio, beginning to walk out of the building to your car. You drove a couple minutes and finally made it to your house; you got inside and immediately went up to your room, flopping down on your bed and breathing out, it was almost felt like you were deflating.

You lay there about a minute, face down before getting up and grabbing a pair of undies, a pair of sweatpants, a shirt and an oversized hoodie and heading into the bathroom.

You planned to just take a quick shower but it ended up turning into an hour-long mess complete with fake arguments, comebacks you could’ve said in 2012, ten minutes of dissociating and one mental breakdown.

“Well,” you said, stepping out of the shower “That was refreshing”

As soon as you had gotten changed and walked back into your bedroom, your phone rang yet again. you sighed, shoulders slumping slightly before picking up the phone, seeing it wasn’t a contact you had saved.

“Hello?” you greeted, making it sound more like a question

“Hey! Is this Y/N L/N?” The caller seemed to be male with a thick American accent

“This is she,” you said slowly

“Oh, Hi! This is Johnny Seo! From NCT”

“Oh! Johnny! Nice to talk to you” you smile despite knowing he couldn’t see you

“Same goes! your manager gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind?”

“Oh! It’s fine” You assured

“Cool, cool. I was just wondering, you don’t have any dancing experience, right?”

“Uh- I do know the very basics but that’s about it”

“Cool! Just making sure, you do know one of our members, Ten, will be teaching you the dance, right?”

right then right there, is when your soul left your body. Ten’s dancing skills never ceased to amaze you. Someone of his skill teaching someone of yours? It seemed...impossible

“Uh, yeah! Thanks for telling me, Johnny”

“No problem-” There was a pause and a muffled call of what seemed to be Johnny’s name “I’ve gotta go now, it was nice talking to you!”

“You too!” you said right before he hung up

You placed the phone down, pursing your lips. Learning the entire dance seemed completely unrealistic but...you supposed it was ok to trust your manager and Ten.

I should probably work out you thought to yourself, groaning out loud and reluctantly getting changed into workout clothes.

Sunlight peaked through your windows the next day and the very first thing you noticed was the aching muscles everywhere in your body. You grunted, sitting up and massaging some of the areas that seemed to hurt more

Finally, you gathered enough strength to stand up and stretch, only causing your muscles to hurt more.

“fuck meee” you whined, hating yourself for not stretching properly right after your workout yesterday

You eventually stopped wallowing in self-pity and checked the clock. You had about four hours before you had to leave to meet NCT. Quickly, you went into your closet, putting on an outfit you had been planning out in your head. You groaned when you saw it looked way worse than you had thought. Pursing your lips, you took it off and started searching your closet.

A couple of hours passed and you were finally ready to leave. You sighed, grabbing your things and walking out the door, mentally preparing yourself to meet NCT.

The entire drive there, you were fidgeting; tapping your fingers up against the wheel, biting your lip, whatnot really. Eventually arriving at the building, you took in a deep breath before seeing your manager waiting for you at the door. Your eyes widened before you hastily got out of your car, doing a little run up to her.

“Am I late?! Is NCT all here already??”

“It’s fine,” She laughed “They’re here, but you’re not late. Calm down and let’s go inside.”

You nodded taking in a deep breath and entering the building along with your manager. She led you to the room NCT was supposedly gathered in and the moment you stepped in, you were completely overwhelmed. The crowd was much bigger than you expected and the members alone looked like it was far more than 21 people.

As soon as they noticed you, they all immediately bowed, greeting you altogether; it was like some sort of telekinesis, they just knew what to do when to do it, actually, it was very intimidating.

“Oh! uh- hi I’m...I’m Y/N!” you said, bowing in return, smiling up at them

You looked over to your manager, hoping she’d tell you what to do next but she had been dragged off by NCT’s manager and the other staff. Before you could say anything else, Johnny stepped forward

“Hi Y/N, it’s nice to meet you in person,” He said smiling, putting his hand out to shake yours

you gladly excepted his hand “It’s nice to meet you too, Johnny!”

“Do you know all our members?”

“Oh, yes! I’ve actually been following you guys for a while” You looked over all the members, making eye contact with some of them and smiling sweetly

They all subconsciously smiled when they hear your words, some of the members even becoming a bit bashful. One member caught your eye, Ten, he was radiating with confidence. You two made eye contact and held it for a few seconds, his smile shining brighter than you could ever think. You blushed and finally turned away, looking back to Johnny.

A few minutes passed and all the fluent English speakers had branched off from the rest of the group along with you while the others engaged in their own conversations. You felt slightly bad that you weren’t able to speak in their first language to the Korean and Chinese members but you were pretty sure they were much better at English than you were at Korean.

“So,” Jaehyun started “We’ll be making the entire album together?”

“That’s my understanding, do you guys normally write your own songs?” you asked

“We have a say in the lyrics, but usually don’t write the entire thing” Mark spoke up

“Oh, but we wrote most of the lyrics for Dear Dream,” Chenle said to which Mark nodded to

“Oh my gosh, Dear Dream almost made me cry” You blurted out “Also, Mark, what the heck was Drippin’?” You were beginning to let a bit of your fangirl-side show

“uH-”

“MOVING ON” Johnny interjected, looking like he was seconds away from bursting out laughing

“Yeah,” Ten said, snickering, trying to calm himself down before he continued “Anyways, I’ll be teaching you the dance for the 2019, the WayV, the U, and possibly the Dream and 127 songs, if not though, Chenle and Johnny will teach you those two.”

“Wait...I have to learn the dance to all the title songs” You asked, mouth agape

“Yeah? You didn’t know?” Ten’s expression became slightly panicked along with yours

“I didn’t! What?! I can barely dance in the first place!”

Yangyang placed a comforting hand on your shoulder “It’s ok! Ten is a capable teacher!”

You nodded slowly, trying to calm your nerves, still processing the entire situation.

A couple months had passed since then and you’d been working your ass off with each of the units, writing the lyrics, sticking to concepts, way more than you’d normally have to do. Of course, NCT all helped you but they were less on writing the lyrics and more on choreographing for the five title songs. By this time, only three of them had been finished, 127′s, Dream’s, and WayV’s. Ten had also been working especially hard, it was later decided that just having one dance teacher would be easier for you so he had to learn an extra two choreo’s than he would usually.

Finally, after another few months, you and the members had finished writing and choreographing the five title songs, meaning that you, unfortunately, had to start learning the dances now.

“So...you put your arm out like this and bring your body forwa-”

Before Ten could do the move, the door to the dance studio opened, revealing a smiling Johnny. Ten glared at him, watching as he entered the room and went straight up to you.

Usually, Ten and Johnny would get along incredibly well, even considering themselves best friends. Over the past few months though, Johnny had been getting very close to you and it was starting to annoy Ten. He usually brushed it off as being annoyed that Johnny kept interrupting your learning but lately, Ten had been noticing how he himself blushes around you and the small little feeling he gets in the bottom of his stomach every time he stares just a bit too long at your beautiful features. He couldn’t have been jealous though, no. Ten knows Johnny wouldn’t make a move on you and besides, even if he did...it didn’t matter, right? Ten just saw you as a close friend...probably.

“How are you guys doing?” Johnny asked, his usual bright smile on his face

“We’re doing good,” Ten said curtly

You and Johnny exchanged quick glances at Ten’s annoyed tone. He couldn’t be mad though...Ten has never gotten mad before, he always seemed to be in a happy mood; literally just a few seconds ago, Ten was smiling and caringly teaching you choreography.

“Ten, are you ok?” You asked curiously

“I’m Fine.”

“Ah, I should be going now, you guys should wrap up soon too, it’s getting late,” Johnny said before getting up, waving a bit and leaving the room

“Ten, what’s up?”

“Nothing. We should wrap up now like Johnny said, go take a shower. I’ll leave, cya.” He gathered his things and continued to leave the room, not even giving you a glance

Ten knew it was unfair that he was taking out some of his anger on you, you did nothing wrong, after all, you weren’t the one that fell in love with him.

Another couple of months went by and Johnny was constantly checking up on you two, aggravating Ten even further. So much so that Ten finally admitted to himself that it was jealousy. He was annoyed at Johnny, but also at himself. Partly for falling in love with you and partly for taking it out on his best friend; he just seemed to not be able to help it, it was new to Ten, usually, he was in full control of his emotions.

“Do that one more time” He instructed, leaning forward to study your movements better “Try to make it more powerful...like go forward harder. Once you perfect this move, we’ll take a break?” He said, noticing how tired you looked

You nodded and began to redo the move. A couple minutes and Ten was finally satisfied. You immediately plopped down on the spot, catching the towel Ten threw to you and wiping your sweat.

“I’ll go fill up your water bottle, be right back. “Good work!” He smiled while leaving the room

You smiled tiredly back. As soon as Ten had left, you heard the door click again, turning around to see Johnny carrying a plastic bag full of take-out.

“Hey Y/N! Where’s Ten?”

“Gone to go get water,” You said, swallowing your spit, still not having had caught your breath fully

“You two haven’t had dinner yet, right? I brought some take-out.” Johnny said, sitting down, placing the bag in front of you

“Thanks, Johnny” You smiled gratefully, only now noticing how hungry all the dancing had made you

“So anyway-”

Before he could finish, the door clicked open again, Ten coming in. He flinched when he saw Johnny, clenching his teeth slightly.

“Hey.” He said shortly

You frowned. It wasn’t hard to see he’d been acting hostile towards Johnny lately. You thought of it being jealousy but brushed it off as you just hoping he’d like you back. Maybe something happened between them? Although, Johnny seemed completely fine with Ten.

“I brought take out for you two,” Johnny said, smiling still

“Oh...thanks” Ten paused, taking a deep breath in, having to remind himself that Johnny meant no harm in getting so close to you and he was still his best friend

“It’s getting quite late, I’m gonna head back, don’t work yourselves too far into the nigh-...er- morning,” Johnny said sweetly, getting up and leaving you two alone

“Ten...” you started once Johnny had left “What’s been up with you? It’s obvious you’ve been acting hostile towards Johnny”

He looked into your eyes, seeing that there was no lying his way out of this.

“I- I just think you two are getting...very close...”

“Ten...are you jealous?” You asked plainly

he hesitated, not wanting to admit his own defeat.

“...yes, I am...I love you Y/N.” He said, trying to not let his shyness show through

You covered your mouth with your hand, smiling brightly.

“I love you too” You ran up to him, giving him a large hug

His usual bright smile returned to his face, though, this one seemed even better than any of the others you’d ever seen before

BONUS

Ten clapped his heart out once you’d finished the choreography, covering his mouth and making his eyes begin to water like the extra bitch he is.

“I learned all the choreography!” You said excitedly, out of breath from doing five intense choreos in a row

“I’m so proud of you! Now you need to learn it with the rest of the groups”

You sighed, dropping to your knees, pretending to be wallowing in self-pity

“Go take a shower, it’s late and you’re all sweaty” Ten laughed

“Yeah, yeah” you said, getting up and walking out, leaving Ten standing in the room alone

“Wow, I really love her” Ten mumbled to himself

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

Text

Priorities | Two

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky breaks his promise.

Warnings: Implied smut, nudity, language. Angst. The ‘baby talk’

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: Written for @buckyofthemyscira‘s 5k Disney Writing Challenge.

I said the angst would get worse and it does! Brace yourselves :D

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | Tags are open, add yourself here

“Let’s have a baby,” says Bucky.

You’re about five minutes post-orgasm, still trying to catch your breath and calm your galloping heart, so it takes a few seconds for your brain to actually register and process what he’s just said. You lift your head from where it’s pillowed on his chest and look at him through narrowed eyes.

“You wanna what-now?”

“A baby,” he repeats, as he rolls onto his side, forcing you to scoot back and give him some space. Bucky slings an arm over your waist loosely, fingers idly tracing the bare skin at the small of your back. You prop your head up one elbow so that you can look at him properly.

“Why?” you ask.

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe ‘cause we’ve been married for almost two years? I dunno, I just feel like...we’re in a good position financially, Tony’s all but guaranteed me a promotion, your business is thriving — maybe it’s time, y’know?”

You bite your lip as you mull over his words, not yet convinced. “I dunno,” you mumble, “Having a kid is a pretty big commitment.”

“I know, but—we’re in a good place, aren’t we?” he asks, shifting forward to press his forehead to yours.

“I guess so,” you reply hesitantly. “I just...I need some time to think about this, okay? I want that with you, don’t get me wrong but...I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.”

Bucky smiles at you, soft and tender. For a moment, he looks exactly like the boy you fell in love with, all those years ago. “Of course, honey,” he murmurs, bending to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m not saying we gotta do it now — whenever you’re ready, doll. It’s no rush.”

You flash him a smile in return, and pray that he won’t see past the mask that you’ve painted on your face.

Sensing that the conversation is over, you slump into the pillows, groaning in relief as you stretch out your pleasantly-exhausted muscles. Bucky rumbles low in his chest as he slides his hands down your naked back, stopping to cup the swell of your ass.

“Maybe...maybe we could start practicing, though?” he asks hopefully.

You bark out a laugh as you turn to glare at him playfully. “You’re insatiable, Mr Barnes,” you tease.

“Can’t help it, when I’ve got such a pretty wife,” he replies, moving to cage you in with his forearms, forcing you to roll onto your back. You hum as you loop your hands over his neck and tangle your fingers through his hair, bringing him in for a filthy kiss.

“Perhaps you should try your best to convince me — I might make up my mind, sooner,” you say huskily, as you nose along his stubbled jaw.

Bucky pulls back, eyes dark with lust and gleaming with promise. “Challenge accepted, sweetheart.”

—

a-sprinkle-of-sunshine posted at 2.36PM: Kids??

I know I don’t usually make posts on a Sunday, but something’s just happened and I’d really like some advice.

In my last post, I talked about the current status of my marriage (btw, many thanks to everyone who left a supportive comment/piece of advice!). Today, I’d like to share with you a further development.

This morning, my husband brought up the subject of children. Specifically, he brought up the subject of us having children. Basically, hubby said that he wanted to have them. I should also say that he wasn’t in any way pressuring me to have them soon, which I appreciate.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, you all know that I’d like to have some children of my own, one day. I want to raise kids with him, but I do have some reservations.

A friend of mine sent me an interesting article a couple of weeks ago (link), which it got me thinking. From observing my friends and acquaintances, I think that this is an issue that applies to many of us in long-term heterosexual relationships.

So many women are basically “married single mothers”. They’re single mothers, despite having a husband or male s/o at home.

Let’s assume that mom and dad are both working (as is the case for hubby and I). In most families, when dad comes home, he puts his feet up on the table and chills out by playing on his Xbox or phone or whatever. He doesn’t offer to help with the dishes, he’s not cooking dinner, he’s literally just sitting there. Sometimes, dad doesn’t even come home until it’s almost midnight.

Meanwhile, mom’s there trying to make sure that dinner’s on the table, that the kids have done their homework, that they’re doing okay in school, that they’ve packed their bags for the next day — looking after the kids, basically. My point is, in most heterosexual families as I’ve described, there’s a clear gender split in terms of child-raising responsibilities.

I don’t want that. Yes, even though I work from home and could devote a lot of time to child-upbringing, that’s not what I want. I want my husband and I to raise a child together, to have equal responsibility, to share the burdens and joys. I don’t want my children to see my husband as a stranger, y’know?

But, with the way that hubby is getting busier and busier by the day, well — I think it’s quite likely that, if we have kids, I’m gonna end up as a married single mom. In my heart of hearts, I believe that our marriage will suffer if we have a baby now. I’m scared that my husband won’t be there to watch them grow up

I know, I know — I NEED TO TALK THIS OUT WITH HIM, and I will, I promise. I’m just...I don’t know what I’m gonna say. I need to think about it, for a bit.

Anyway. Any and all advice on this matter would be much appreciated, especially if you’ve been through a similar situation.

—

Sundays are for chilling out, but apparently, Bucky didn’t get that memo.

You’ve been trying to get him out of the house all day, to no avail. The two of you had rolled out of bed at around lunchtime and, after sharing a long shower, had wandered to the kitchen to cook up some pasta. In the middle of your meal, Bucky had gotten a call from Tony, which was filled with clipped sentences and terse voices. Since then, he’s stationed himself at the kitchen island, laptop open and papers spread out in front of him, frantically making last-minute changes to his designs.

“I’m sorry, honey — maybe later?” he’d said, when you’d suggested going out for a walk.

“Sweetie, I’m busy right now, I’m sorry,” he’d said an hour later, when you’d asked him if he wanted to watch a movie with you.

“Sorry, doll, this code’s got a major bug in it, I gotta try and sort it out, I can’t go right now,” he’d said, when you’d asked if he wanted to go somewhere for dinner.

You want to scream at him in frustration.

You know that you need to confront this issue sooner rather than later, but you don’t have the strength to deal with it right now. After ordering dinner from a nearby Chinese takeout place, you curl up in front of the TV for — yet another — quiet night in, alone. The fact that you’re having dinner by yourself is kind of ridiculous, given that your husband is literally sat twenty feet away from you.

Since you’re not getting much company from Bucky tonight, you decide to head to bed early.

You sigh as you curl up on your side of the king-sized mattress, frustrated by the fact that your husband just — doesn’t seem to have time for you, anymore. A part of you feels guilty for being angry at Bucky, given that he’s only working so hard so that he can save up more money and give you a good life. Nonetheless, you can’t help thinking that there must be a limit to how much he should be working.

It takes two to have a marriage, after all.

You lie in bed, dozing in and out of dreams whilst you wait for your husband to call it a night. Sometime after eleven, you’re awoken from your light slumber by the feeling of the bed dipping with Bucky’s weight as he climbs in. He presses a kiss to your temple as he slides under the covers and curls himself around your back, slipping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You reach back to give his hip an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey, doll, sorry — didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“S’okay,” you mumble sleepily. “You got your work done?”

“Yeah,” he replies, burying his face against the back of your neck. “Sorry our Sunday got ruined, though. Tell you what — my schedule’s free on Tuesday evening, why don’t I make a reservation at Giovanni’s and take you out for dinner, huh?”

You hum in agreement, lacing your fingers with Bucky’s where they lie over your stomach. “M’kay,” you murmur, “G’night, Buck.”

“Sweet dreams, doll.”

—

When Tuesday evening rolls around, you find yourself sitting at your dressing table, putting the finishing touches to your eye makeup.

You’re in a good mood, today — you had a productive meeting with Peter earlier this afternoon, and he’d gone away promising to look into some of the problems that you’ve been having with your website. Your supplier has gotten back to you with a reasonable price quote for the limited edition notebooks that you’re selling for autumn/winter, and you’ve scheduled the blog post that’s supposed to go up tomorrow.

All in all, a fulfilling day.

Despite being buoyed by your high spirits, there’s a lingering seed of worry in your gut. Your reservation for Giovanni’s is at seven, and Bucky still hasn’t texted you to say that he’s left work, even though it’s already half-past six.

You’ve dressed up nicely for the occasion, putting on a blue dress that compliments your skin tone and fits your body perfectly. You’ve paired the dress with some strappy heels, and have put a little extra effort into your hair and makeup too.

Your phone rings just as you’re swiping on your lipstick.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says breathlessly. “I just checked the time.”

“Are you on the way?”

“Uh...no,” he says slowly, “I’m still tied up at work.”

You set your tube of lipstick down on your vanity, his sentence settling in like a boulder at the bottom of your stomach.

Of course he’d say that. Of course he’d have to go and ruin what was otherwise a good day.

“You’re coming home late?” you ask, voice a little shaky.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, honey. I really can’t wriggle my way out of this one.”

You purse your lips. “Okay. I understand.”

“You do?” Bucky asks, sounding relieved.

“Yeah, of course. Your work’s more important than your wife, I see that,” you say sharply. It’s a low blow, but you’re pissed off, and you want your words to wound him deeply, just as he has hurt you.

His sharp inhale on the other end of the line tells you that you’ve achieved your goal.

“No, sweetie, c’mon, just try to understand what I’m—”

“No, you try and understand how I’m feeling, James,” you hiss, fighting to hold back the hot tears of anger brimming in the corners of your eyes. “Am I not — important to you?”

“No,” he says fiercely, “Sweetheart, don’t think like that, I’m just making sure that when we have kids—”

“Oh, when?” you say angrily, “It’s a ‘when’, now? We’re having kids, that’s confirmed, is it? Are you even gonna be there to watch them grow up?”

Bucky exhales harshly. “Honey, we’re not having this conversation on the phone—”

“No? Then when the fuck are we gonna have it, James Buchanan? Hmm? Because you’re hardly ever home, and even when you are, you’re too busy thinking about work to listen to me, anyway.”

“Doll—”

“No, don’t fucking ‘doll’ me. I just—just whatever,” you sigh tiredly, as you scrub your hand over your face, the fight suddenly bleeding out of your system. You’re tired of this. You don’t want to deal with this shit anymore.

“Our reservation’s at seven,” you say, “I gotta go, or I’ll be late. Bye.”

You hang up before he gets a chance to reply.

You want to hurl your phone against the wall. You want to scream and shout and tear your hair out. You want to rip this fucking dress to shreds, all because of Bucky. He’s just so — ugh.

With an exasperated harumph, you turn back to the mirror and fish a tissue out of your makeup bag, using it to dab at your eyes. You won’t cry, right now; Bucky’s not worth your tears. You finish putting on your lipstick, spritz on a little more hairspray, then pick up your purse and flick off the bedroom lights.

Bucky might not be coming on this date night, but you might as well treat yourself. God knows you deserve it.

On impulse, you pull out your phone and speed dial Wanda. Natasha’s on a business trip to Milan this week, so she won’t be able to join you, but you haven’t caught up with Wanda for a while — this might be a good way to salvage a bad situation. You’ve known Wanda since high-school, and you consider her to be one of your closest friends.

“Hello?” she answers, after a few rings.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say, “Listen, I know this is kinda random, but are you busy tonight?”

“Uh...like now? No, why?”

“You wanna go out for dinner with me?”

“Uh...Wait, like now now? Where? Why?”

“Giovanni’s, and I’ll tell you why when we get there.”

Wanda pauses as she thinks over your offer. “Yeah, why not, they’ve got good wine — lemme just text Vis and I’ll be right over, ‘kay?”

“Cool. Reservation’s for seven, under the name ‘Barnes’.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

—

“So, you gonna tell me what this is about?” Wanda asks, as the server clears your menus and re-fills your wine glasses. “You’re all dressed up, but I have a feeling that that’s not for me.”

“Bucky was supposed to take me out on a date,” you reply, as you take a sip of your wine.

“And? What happened?”

You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “He got caught up at work.”

Wanda leans back, folding her arms across her chest as she looks at you critically. She’s wearing a black shift dress, and has piled her long brown hair into a loose bun on top of her head. In addition to her favourite lace choker, she’s also wearing her signature dark lip and smoky eye-liner.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere. You’re not telling me something,” she says, after a long pause.

You chew on your lip hesitantly as you fiddle with the edge of your napkin. “It’s nothing, just—we kinda had a fight over the phone.”

Wanda clicks her tongue sympathetically as she leans forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What was it about?”

You shake your head, unwilling to talk about the fight when it’s still so fresh in your mind. “It’s nothing, forget about it.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, clearly displeased by the fact that you’re bottling up your emotions. “I mean...if it was actually nothing, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I? Something’s clearly up. C’mon. Spill.”

You sigh, internally admitting defeat. “Well...okay. He’s been working on this big project, and — uh...actually, it’s not just that.”

She waits patiently as you try to find the right words.

“He’s busier lately...like, a lot busier. It’s been getting worse the last few months, but it all started about a year ago, I’d say. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him, and I know that he’s doing this for both of us, but—I feel like I’m not the most important thing in his life anymore.”

You huff dryly. “That seems ridiculous to say, ‘cause if you think about it, he’s working so hard because he wants to give us a good life, but...I feel like he went and did this without me, y’know? Without talking to me, I mean. Like, I don’t need a fancy house with a backyard and a garden and whatever — I just want my husband, at home, with me.”

Wanda nods sagely. “He’s doing what he thinks is best, which — fair enough, that’s great, but that’s not necessarily what you want or need from him.”

“Exactly.”

Wanda hums thoughtfully as she takes a sip of her wine. “Sounds like you guys need to have a heart-to-heart.”

“I know, but he’s never home!” you whine, “How am I supposed to talk to him if he isn’t there for me to talk to?”

Wanda sighs as she shakes her head. “I dunno, babe, I can’t help you there.”

“I know you can’t,” you sigh, “It’s okay, we just need to work things out between us.”

She nods in agreement. “So was this date night supposed to be his way of making things up to you?” she asks.

“No. Well — kinda. He was busy doing work on Sunday, and he said he’d take me out tonight, but, well. I guess that didn’t happen, huh?”

“So that’s why you had a fight?”

“Basically,” you reply. Just then, the server comes over with your food. You get one whiff of the fragrant, delicious smell and already, your stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Well, babe,” Wanda says, as she digs into her pasta, “If you ever need a place to stay — like, if you need to be away from him for a while or whatever, you’re always welcome to use our spare room.”

You smile at her gratefully. “Thanks, Wan. I hope I won’t need to, but thank you for the offer.”

“No probs. Are we getting dessert after?”

“Sure, why not. I’m paying for this using his card anyway, let’s cash out.”

She cackles gleefully.

—

Bucky doesn’t get home until it’s half past midnight.

He’s exhausted from a day dealing with catastrophe after catastrophe, but more than that, he feels like shit for not taking you out like he’d promised. You’d sounded really upset on the phone earlier, when he told you that he couldn’t make it. Bucky’s tried calling you about half a dozen times since then, and left you several texts, but you haven’t responded to anything.

He’s not sure what kind of mood you’ll be in.

When he shoulders open the door to the apartment, Bucky is greeted by pure darkness. With a weary sigh, he toes off his shoes and turns on the lights.

His eyes are immediately drawn to the blanket and pillows piled up at the end of the sofa, clearly meant for him. You’ve been kind enough to leave him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to change into, but there’s no note or anything else with the items.

He knows that if he were to try the door to your shared bedroom, he’d find it to be locked.

Well then. A night on the couch it is.

#sams5kdisneycelebration #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #my writing #fic: priorities

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himbowelsh · 7 years

Note

I know it's not Halloween anymore but can I have sth kinda spooky with Webgott as two ghost stuck in same building? You know they both died there but at different time, so they didn't know each other before they became ghosts. Maybe it's kinda ones fault that the other is dead and stuck in this place? It's a lot of bitching and trying to get on the others nerves. And maybe other guys are there to check out this haunted house but instead of scary brooding ghosts hey find two arguing twats.

Addition to ghost Webgott. I just can’t get that image of my head. Luz sets up his heavy machinery to hear any potential ghost talking and first thing they all hear is “God, Joe, you’re such a dick!” and Liebgott repeating with all the grace of five year old in slightly girlish voice “God, Joe, you’re such a dick!”. + Web is the kind of ghost who summons all his celestial energy just to turn TV on and watch shark documentaries and Lieb for some reason sits with him every time.

The camera flickers on to catch a close-up of furrowed brows and a set of focused brown eyes.

After a second, the frustration clears from the man’s face. He leans back just enough to adjust it, flashing a wide grin, before stepping away from the camera.

“Okay,” he announces, taking a step away from the camera stand. “We’re set! Who’s ready to roll, huh?”

“Nice goin’, Luz, you just have ‘em a huge shot of your face,” a gravelly voice offscreen chides. Luz looks past the camera, cheshire grin widening.

“They oughta be grateful. C’mon Joe, get over here, let them see you too. We gotta show who’s in charge of this whole thing. For when we get famous later.”

Reluctantly, another man steps into the frame. He looks awkward as awkward in front of the camera as Joe does comfortable, even as Luz tugs him down to crouch next to him.

Luz turns to him, officious and commanding, as he adjusts a pair of invisible spectacles. “Mr. Toye,” he says, in a spot-on impersonation of that one guy from 60 Minutes, “how does it feel to be the first person to get definitive scientific evidence that ghosts exist?”

“It feels like I’m in an old crackhouse at midnight being interrogated by a crazy person,” Toye replies flatly, casting a sideways glance at the camera lens. When Luz flares up in indignation, he is ignored.

“Okay, this wasn’t a crackhouse. This was a boarding house, you know? Where people used to live back in olden times.”

“Then it was abandoned. Then it turned into a crackhouse.” Toye’s gaze bores into the camera; it's like he’s trying to make it more uncomfortable than its making him.

Luz rolls his eyes. “The point is that it’s not a crackhouse now. This place has been abandoned for years.”

Toye is determined not to lose his impromptu staring contest. “Sure. When can we be done here?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Luz extols. “We’re here all night. As soon as those two get done setting up the sound equipment —“ He pauses. His gaze wanders past the camera again, brow furrowing. “Where the hell are Bill and Babe with the sound equipment?”

“Oh my god,” says Toye, and smacks his hand against his face as he slumps over.

In another part of the house, a high-tech voice recorder is finally activated, after fifteen minutes of tinkering, puzzling, thumping, and “how the hell does this thing work”s to kill a man from boredom.

“Hey, here it is!” exclaims a supremely thrilled voice, too close to the speaker — his voice is a static scream. “I got it, the little bastard!”

“Move away from the thing,” another voice demands. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, kiss it? Whisper sweet nothings? Get back, genius.”

“Watch it!” exclaims the first voice. Then, after a few seconds: “How’s your stuff coming? Pick anything up?”

“No, I haven't picked anything up, because I’ve barely got the thing turned on yet. What, d’you think all this ghost shit’s just gonna happen at once?”

“Well. I was hoping.”

“Sure you were,” Bill huffs. “I know this is your first hunt, Babe, so get used to waiting. It gets a lot more boring than this.”

“My brain’s gonna melt out of my skull.” Babe pauses, considering. “Hey, Bill, you think people would find that spooky?”

“Jesus,” mutters Bill. If he was hoping Babe was done, though, he’s out of luck.

“I mean, the deaths before were pretty weird too, right? The ones George told us about. This place was a boarding house from the 1930s to 60s, and then sometime in the 60s that author guy — Werner?”

“Webster,” contributes Bill absently.

“Right, Webster died. He drowned in his bathtub, right? Only they don’t know how it happened because he was supposed to be a really strong swimmer. Plus it was a bathtub. I mean, that’s weird.“

“The guy was having a rough night, had a bit too much to drink, fell asleep in the water. It ain’t much of a mystery, Babe.”

“Okay, sure. Even though people kept saying someone killed him — I’m just saying, that’s creepy! And then in the 90s, the other kid —“

“The drug addict. Come on, that’s not weird.”

“They found him with half his blood painting the room, Bill! And the news article said he drowned! How the hell do you drown on dry land? That’s freaky as anything!”

“No, it’s not. The guy got in a fight, because this used to be a crackhouse, and fights happen in places like that. The article says he was stabbed. He probably... bled out, drowned in his own blood or something.”

“Doesn’t say that. Just says drowned. If it were blood, it would say blood.”

“So who the hell cares how he died? Point is, he’s dead now. And after he showed up dead, the cops cleaned this house up, so there’s no more drugs here now. We’re as safe as we can get.”

“Yeah, ‘cept for the ghosts.”

“For the last time, Babe, there are no fuckin’ —“

It’s funny to see how the duo jumps when one of the ancient books suddenly topples from the bookshelf onto the floor. Joe has to hold back a snort at the sight of them. The redhead almost leaps out of his skin, while the stockier man with the iron-cut jaw has assumed a position like a threatened hedgehog. His eyes are wide, his fists are in the air, and he’s in full fight-or-fight mode.

It’s hilarious.

This group is hardly the first so-called “ghost hunters” who have come to observe the house, but Joe gets the feeling they’ll be the most fun to mess with. From the two in the other room, who are too busy pretending they’re making a damn documentary, to these guys, who can hardly get the equipment working… screwing with them will be like taking candy from a baby.

“Will you quit that?”

Joe tenses up. Like terrorizing small children, however, there’s always going to be someone around who ruins your fun.

When he turns, he finds Webster leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’s got that sour look on his face again, like he’s sucking on a lemon. “It’s immature.”

Believing in ghosts is immature, in Joe’s (totally non-ghostly) opinion. As far as he’s concerned, these four dumbasses have got it coming.

He could say this to Web, but by now he’s learned there’s no point. Webster makes a point of discarding his opinions at every opportunity. Joe can’t reason with the guy. He can’t make him see logic when he’s already devoted to his opinion. No, there’s only one surefire way to get through to Webster, and that’s to pick a fight with him. Joe’s had enough arguments to last an eternity — which is, coincidentally, as long as he has to spend in this house.

With Webster.

Webster, who haunted this house long before Joe decided to die there. Webster, who was the last thing Joe saw, like an angel appearing in the midst of a fever dream, before he started choking on liquid that should not have been in his lungs. Webster, who Joe’s still not certain didn’t kill him. Webster, the most pretentious ghost on the damn planet.

Fate can be a bitch sometimes.

So instead of saying anything reasonable to Web, he just looks over his shoulder and sneers. “Why d’you care what I do? Butt out, author boy. Go back to your room.”

“My room has got two more ‘investigators’ in it.” Web sounds phenomenally put out. Joe can’t find it in himself to be sympathetic.

“Boo-fuckin’ hoo. Go scare ‘em off.”

“Wow, great idea.” Webster sounds dismissive, but Joe knows the truth. He doesn’t want to exert the energy that manifesting will actually take. It will leave him exhausted for days, and Web just hates it when his “aura is drained”. In Joe’s opinion, he’s a lazy ass.

“Do you want me to do it? I will. I’ll write in blood on the walls. I’ll bang on windows, I’ll throw their fancy thousand dollar equipment around. I’ll whisper naughty words in their little machines.” Joe can’t help smiling at the thought of the investigators’ faces lit up with terror. “Hell, I’ll drag one of ‘em through the house by their hair. That’ll get the ghost hunters excited.”

It looks like Webster wants to smile, for just a second; but he ducks his head, and when he looks up, he’s the same old superior Webster. “You’re an idiot,” he says.

Maybe he’d been hoping for a different reaction. Joe doesn’t know, and convinced himself he doesn’t care as he turns away from the other ghost. “You’re an asshole.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re a prick with a ninety year old superiority complex.”

“You’re a drug addict.”

“Was,” Joe shoots back, finally flaring up. That was a low blow. “You drowned in a fuckin’ bathtub!”

“I was murdered! My landlady —“

“You want to have been murdered, you dumb ass! You didn’t sleep for three days, and passed out in the bath! Your landlady has nothing to do with it! Saying you were murdered just sounds cooler, doesn’t it?”

Webster’s eyes narrow, while the rest of him puffs up in righteous indignation. “You know, at least you can say you were killed —“

“Yeah, I was! By you, fucker!”

“You were stabbed!”

“You drowned me!”

“You were dying anyway!”

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

Web falls silent, still flared up and furious. Veins throb at the temples of his flushed face. His chest heaves; his shoulders shake. He looks two seconds from throwing a punch, and Joe almost hopes he does. Let them get into one of their wild, all out, shake-the-walls-and-ceilings fights. Give the investigators a real show.

“I can’t stand being stuck with you for all eternity,” Web finally says, voice tight and furious.

“Yeah, me too. I’d rather die. Oh, wait, guess what, I’m already dead!”

He watches with no small amount of glee as Webster’s lips curl back in a snarl, exposing rows of perfect bared teeth. He looks two seconds away from conniption, and it’s glorious. Nothing satisfies Joe more than leaving the eloquent bastard speechless. “Ficken arschloch!” Webster spits after a moment, and Joe allows a wide, manic grin to spread across his face.

“That’s it, liebling. Erzähl mir mehr! Bitte!”

“Fick dich!”

“So eloquent —“ He moans, tossing his head back in mock-ecstasy.

That’s the moment Web really does try to punch him.

They wind up fleeing the house in blind panic as the walls rattle, doors slamming at their heels. Babe doesn’t stop screaming until they’re already speeding down a side street, kicking and clambering over each other to find their seats in Bill’s oversized truck. Their equipment clatters where it’s been haphazardly thrown in the trunk. Were Luz not so distracted, he would be mourning the inevitable damage.

He’s too busy screaming. “Oh jesus. Oh jesus! Jesus, Mary, and the holy fuckin’ ghost, what was that?”

“That was exactly what you think it was!” Bill hollers back. “It was a fuckin’ ghost!”

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit —“ Babe choruses. He sounds like he’s sobbing.

Toye just drives. He does not look behind him. He does not take his eyes off the road. He just drives.

The first misadventure of the Pennsylvania (and Rhode Island, By Technicality) Paranormal Research Society has come to a premature end.

It’s not until they review the evidence they’ve collected later that night that they realize something was really wild in that house.

To be fair, they all knew that to begin with. The slamming doors had left little question of that; the way books flew off the shelves, broken furniture spun across the room, and windows slammed open and shut left no question of that. There was something in that house and it wanted them gone so much that it chased them out.

It’s only when they’re safe and sound, holed up in Babe’s basement and clustered around George’s laptop, that they realize exactly what they caught.

“Am I losing it,” says Babe, “or does that sound like German?”

“No,” replies Luz. “That’s definitely German.”

“What’s he saying?”

“How should I know?”

“Shut up,” Toye hisses, and fast forwards to a particular part of the audio clip. Here, a very clear voice can be hear saying, “Joe, you’re an asshole!”

And then it sounds almost like someone mimicking him back, in a higher voice. The group thinks it’s a woman for all of a split second before it dawns on them. The first ghost is being mocked.

“I... think we found the ghosts of an old a married couple,” says Babe.

“A gay married couple.” Bill scrunches his nose up. “Gay ghosts? Can that happen?”

“They fact that they’re ghosts shouldn’t mean they can’t be gay. Straight ghosts can happen.”

“How do you know so much about ghosts?” Bill demands. “Have you met any?”

“No!” retorts Babe. “Just, ghosts can be as gay as anybody else! Maybe every ghost is a little gay, who knows? We ain’t here to make judgements on any ghost’s lifestyle! There’s nothing weird about being a gay ghost!”

“Oh my god,” Toye says again, and slams his forehead down into his hands.

Next time Luz wants to do a “fun group thing”, they should all go rock climbing or learn to hotwire a car. It would be less chaotic than ghost hunting.

Webster seems much happier after the investigators leave, which Joe supposes is a good thing. A happy Web is less inclined to be a pain in the ass, especially if he’s allowed to curl up in front of the TV in his room.

Technically, the house doesn’t have cable. The house doesn’t have power. Ghosts can get around the laws of physics, so this isn’t a huge problem. Web’s biggest worry in his afterlife is making sure he doesn’t miss any shark documentaries when they pop up on the Discovery Channel.

Webster is a weird, weird dude.

“Think they liked the show?” Joe asks, plopping down on one side of the couch. Webster is slumped over, using his hands to pillow his head (the energy it takes to turn on the TV would be enough to wear him out, even if they didn’t mess around with the house earlier). He just makes a weird grunting noise and shifts over until his head is resting in Joe’s lap.

Joe allows it. Webster smells nice, in a faint, ghostly way; and his hair is fluffy. Laying on him is one of the least annoying things he could do. At least he’s quiet.

They argue all the time, but their fights never last for long. There’s no point holding grudges when you’ve got an eternity with someone, after all. Joe and Webster are both going to be here a long time.

Maybe fate is kind of cruel, but Joe is sure there are worst places he could have ended up than at Webster’s side. All things considered, it’s not the worst afterlife in the world.

#Anonymous #webgott #band of brothers #my writing #lol its real after halloween now #this prompt was super fun tho!

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cheswirls · 7 years

Text

The Reality of Nightmares ch 6

i lived, bitch so spoiler: i really didn’t wanna push for sendoff spring, so this is me building on other things before i have to drop them in the lake setting. i know it’s been, like, a year+, sorry. i never forgot about this tho, i jus didn’t know how to handle it and everything else i started around holiday 16.

i’m working on a shorter fic based entirely off a drama to help ease me back into writing for longfics, and that’ll take precedence through this month. once i relearn how to do this, tron will be back in full swing ! so jus consider this an intro to the return, i’ll do a bigger follow-up on everything addressed here before they visit the lake in the next chapter.

She regained consciousness before she regained the strength to open her eyes.

“ . . Faced with multiple lacerations and burns -what happened?”

“Hard to say. Lavana came at us pretty hard with a Magmortar, so some of the burns came from that. As for the others . . Well, she was with Isaac during the final stretch, up the second portion of the tower. He still hasn’t told much, but apparently, they had final encounters with each of the Sinis Trio. I could easily imagine things getting ugly. Especially with Ic-”

“Whaa,” she mumbled, eyelids lifting some, bright blurred forms coming into view. She wasn’t lying down all the way, her upper body propped up by something -pillows, maybe? She blinked and tried to clear her vision, too tired to do much else. In front of her, the forms began to move, one coming around to her side.

“Kate? Kate, it’s Keith. Are you okay?”

“Kei . . ?” She stopped, squinting as her view came into focus. “You look horrible,” she muttered, sniffing.

To her side, Keith stared at her in surprise, not expecting that. After a moment, he cracked up, shaking his head. Catching her confused gaze, he snickered once more. “You should see yourself, hun.”

“Mysel . .” She trailed off, looking down at her form. What she could see atop the sheets was covered in bandages, and then didn’t exactly look fresh, sickly orange patches on some, others stacked so much she could’ve sworn peeling them back would reveal bloodsoaked ones near the center. She couldn’t lift her arms. She couldn’t lift her head. Everything ached. She winced, flopped her head back to the side, and opened her mouth to ask Keith what the hell happened when another voice spoke.

“Ah, she’s awake.”

Keith winced and Kate moved her eyes to see Hastings gesturing for the doctor on her other side. He mumbled a few words and he hurried back to her, fidgeting with the machines she was hooked up to. Hastings looked back at her and hummed, lips curling into a frown.

“Maybe debriefing should be moved in here,” he muttered, glancing to Keith. “How long has she been up?”

“You got here just in time,” he replied evenly.

“Hmm.” Hastings stoops on his cane, thinking. Finally, he raises his eyes to meet Keith’s. “You’ve got two days. Make sure she’s up and able to move.” The scientist doesn’t waste another glance at Kate, choosing to turn around and walk out.

Kate lolls her head back to Keith, a question on her face. He shakes his head.

“Mission clear,” he croaks, finally breaking, tears springing to his eyes, happy to see her awake, knowing she was awake.

“You don’t look happy,” Kate tells him.

He turns his head away, biting down on his lip to keep it from trembling with little success. “Things are complicated,” he finally says. “Things are over, but not everything is fixed, not all is normal.”

She’s too tired to think. “What do you mean.”

“You’ll find out.” He locks his eyes with her tired ones, already drooping again. “In two days, forty-eight hours, you’ll see.”

Her room in the Pokemon League was shared with Keith. The beds were comfortable, but they were cold. Everything was cold in this land. But she wasn’t cold now, which concerned her enough to crack open an eye, searching for the source in the darkness.

Heavy breathing fell on her forehead. Her eyes were level with a neck, Keith’s, she assumed. Interesting.

Not that this didn’t happen sometimes. They were -something. She wasn’t sure what. But why, exactly, she couldn’t-

Oh.

Yes she could.

It had started late, with her bursting up in a fit of choked tears and barely-held back whimpers so harshly she fell off the bed, legs tangling in the sheets. Keith was up in an instant, beside her, ever present, and she remembered clinging to him as she settled down, rasping out a name over and over as he whispered to her it’d be okay.

Blake Hall.

Because they never recovered the people swallowed up by the darkness. Darkrai had vanished after her rampage on the machine and the converging of the dark crystal to a purer form. And it wasn’t like the magical superhero shows where the villain is defeated and everything returns to how it once before. The people that were taken never showed back up. They were lost. Missing.

Trapped in the darkness.

She regained control of herself by blocking it out, by letting herself be lead back onto the mattress, by not letting go of his hand until he climbed in after her, a needed presence.

It wasn’t good, to block it all out. But it was how she dealt, for now. It worked, for now. It was fine, for now. And if it held, well, what was the use in changing it?

She glanced out their window without raising her head to see it still dark. Fine. She’d sleep for a bit longer, then.

They had such a long day ahead.

Dahlia didn’t care for the scones at the league.

Not they that were hard as a rock, no, because they weren’t, and no one would like them that way.

It was the fact that they were near perfect. Not burnt, which, again, she could do without. It was the flavor.

Overpowering. Cheri, pecha, rawst, you name it and the scone was packed full of it. It was too much. It was a scone, not a strudel.

“You’re making that face again.”

She scrunched her nose up more and dropped her breakfast pastry. To her right, Thorton breathed out a sigh.

“I know, I know, it’s-”

“Not how it was when Cynthia was here.”

He sighed again, taking a bite of his own meal before replying. “Lots of things have changed. ‘M sorry our current champion doesn’t appreciate the sweetness of the bread more. Deal with it. We won’t be here that long.”

She slumped forward, her upper arm resting in full on the table while her palm lies on her forehead. “So you say. But do you really believe it?”

Thorton shrugged, disinterest in the topic beginning to take form. “The rangers were called.”

“Yeah.” She sat up, then, eyes brimming with . . something. “Do you think they’re qualified?”

“I think they’ve been through shit,” Thorton told her. “I think one of them’s traumatized, and that doesn’t go away. Just look at Maylene.” She grunts in understanding at the last bit. “But here’s the thing: That’s experience. They’ll know what to look for, what to expect. They’ll know how to handle themselves and the people they’re working with. So, yes. Damn right. I think they’re qualified.”

“Okay okay, you’ve convinced me,” she mumbled. “Just, you weren’t right there, with Kate. When she was telling Keith her location, that whole transmission, it was chilling. She was all cheery and shit, after just being put through an underwater cave-in. Said it was her way of dealing with things. Mentioned the last time was when a cargo ship she’d been on sank in the deep waters. That the ocean wasn’t her friend. That’s a shit way of dealing with things, y’know?”

“Sure.” He pushed his plate back, finished just before his appetite went. “Like I said, the girl’s traumatized. It happens. But she’s still pushing.” He leaned forward, cocking his head at her. “Like Argenta said, she’s a fighter. We just gotta trust in her.”

“Oh. You two are up early.”

Thorton expects it, but he still jumps along with Dahlia at Dawn’s voice as she enters, balancing a plate of food and a glass of juice. She pads over and takes a seat across from them, and for a moment, they just stare.

Her eyes were sunken, frown in place, expression worn in general. It’d been like that for a bit now, ever since . .

Her clothes were rumpled, clearly not sleepwear which suggested she’d been up walking through the castle. Again. But she wasn’t dressed for the day either, like she’d thrown on something in a hurry without a care.

What was always interesting and equally disturbing to see were the twin scarves. Today was no different. The red one was coiled tightly around her neck, like it couldn’t get closer, while the pink hung loosely from her shoulders, sides draped down over her chest. It was clear which was prioritized.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stabbed a piece of food before scoffing. “What,” she muttered, chewing slowly as they broke from their trance.

“Where are we going today,” Dahlia asked, recovering first.

Dawn swallowed and paused, thinking. “Dunno,” she settled on. “Wherever they want.”

The frontier brains share a look. For now, they supposed that’d have to be enough.

The port city might actually have been a bit chillier than where they touched down first in the region, which was . . odd, at least for her. Nearly all of Almia’s townships were set by the sea, after all. And it was decent there. The few inhabited spaces that weren’t near the ocean were in the mountains and this was, well . .

Rhythmi spun around after departing the train, her luggage spinning along with her figure. She pulled her League-issued cloak tighter as the breeze picked up.

Nope, they were definitely at sea level.

She made her way out of the station, using the hand not clutching at her suitcase handle to dig out the map she’d been given by the champion. She remembered it being dual-sided as well as having a key and- yep!

The map of elevation showed Canalave and the surrounding area to the east as very flat and very low. The land did rest against a small cliffside to the west, but it wasn’t very prominent-

“Oof,” she choked out, staggering back upon ramming into someone, the map fluttering from her grip.

Before she could issue an apology, the person turned around. Rhythmi thought she had experience being tall, or at least, being around tall people. But this person was . .

The man before her chuckled awkwardly before she stopped her staring, head raised as if she stood before a skyscraper.

“I’m sorry,” she uttered, doing her best to bow slightly without having her bags slip from her grasp.

The man waved her off. “No no, I was in a precarious position anyway, and- oh, you, wait . .” He paused, reaching to grasp at his chin, eyes fluttering closed in thought. They opened back up with a pop a moment later and he nodded as he looked back to her. “You’re the operator from Fiore, aren’t you?”

Rhythmi deadpanned with a hesitant smile, her mouth falling open slightly. She regained herself after a moment, but her tone was still lackluster. “Sir, there are no operators in Fiore. They’re all stationed in Almia.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, my fault,” he waved off, reaching a hand up to rub his head sheepishly.

“I suppose you were the person I needed to meet, seeing as you were expecting an operator?”

“Yes,” the man said, nodding. “My apologies, miss. I am Byron, the gym leader here in Canalave. I’ve been instructed to guide you to your operating base, and also to keep an eye on you, make sure you stay safe.”

She frowned at that, the thought of her well being being left to someone she didn’t know unsatisfactory. Also the fact she was simply assigned a burly bodyguard for the heck of it, like this was some show. And the gym leader, at that. Wouldn’t he be busy enough? Besides, it’s not like she couldn’t defend herself. She’d picked up a thing or two from working with the Union. Byron seemed to pick up on that, as he leaned forward slightly.

“Think of it this way, then: You’re not exactly in the safest place in the world, right? So-” He broke off upon seeing horror dawn on her face. “Oh, no no not here! Here is good! I meant, well, Sinnoh in general right now. And your friends are on the case to hunt down whoever or whatever is causing this. And since you have ties to them, it just, well, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful, right?”

Now thoroughly disturbed, Rhythmi just nodded, very blatantly, and then realized the guy in front of her trying doesn’t know her name. “I’m Rhythmi.” She stuck her sole free hand out. “Pleased to meet you.”

Byron shook it and gestured behind him. “Suppose we should get going, then.”

“Hm.” She nodded to him and then looked down at her map. She made to hunch over, letting go of her suitcase handle to grasp at her bag straps, but Byron waved her off and did it himself, handing it to her as she straightened back up.

“That’s a pretty fancy one,” He noted. “Don’t think they make those much anymore. Is it-”

“League issued, yes.” Rhythmi frowned at this news, though. She’d make sure to take care of it.

#writing #tron #the reality of nightmares #pokemon ranger #soa #dppt

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