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phanfictioncatalogue · 5 months ago

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Kissing (4) Masterlist

Links last checked: November 5th, 2024

part one, part two, part three

19 october (my heartbeat matches yours) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: First touches and moments. It’s the same ten years later. Well, almost.

A Piece of Me (ao3) - Sinninghowlter

Summary: Dan is obsessed with Polaroids. Phil loves kissing Dan.

another day (ao3) - wearealldoomed

Summary: “It’s another day in the forever house. It’s been a day since uploading ‘We’re All Doomed’ to the channel that started it all. Dan Howell gets to live another day.”

April Fools (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Dan proposes an April Fools Day prank that he thinks will shock the Internet. But, when it comes time to share it with the world, Phil has second thoughts. There is something he needs to get off of his chest instead.

beneath the milky twilight (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan likes kissing phil

click, click, post (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: drip drip dripped in gold

quick quick quick let's go

kiss me and take off your clothes

knew you were perfect after the first kiss

took a deep breath like ooh

Come Clean (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Dan thinks Phil might be in love with him, but he's not quite sure how to figure it out.

Doubt and Trust (ao3) - MorningStarshine

Summary: Being at the party had been fine. Stumbling home arm in arm with Phil, that had been the best part. But when kissing started leading to something more, Dan had a bit of a confession to make.

from emo to angel (ao3) - starlightphil (adreaminthedark)

Summary: “Oh my god you did it. Crisis twink era.” “Isn’t it my crisis twunk era at this point? You did a whole thing where you claimed I went through twink death, remember?”

Phil surprises Dan with a new hair color.

I know you, hands under my sweatshirt (ao3) - midorijpg

Summary: or, something something about having bad days and growing up and realizing you don't (completely) fit in couches anymore.

I Like my Men How I Like my Gin and Tonic (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan gives a C- blowjob and an receives an A+ handjob emo boys kissing vibes they r in luvv

I missed you so much I dyed the towels green (ao3) - chuuyaswife

Summary: A few of Dan’s shows get cancelled while he’s on the WAD tour so he decides to surprise his boyfriend back home for a few days. Fluffy reunion ensues.

kissing gif (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Meeting Dan is the luckiest he’s ever been. Having him here, on his bed, is a dream come true whether it looks like a sexy Internet gif or not. (A pinof tag about expectations and reality.)

Kiss me (just to kiss me) (ao3) - MorningStarshine

Summary: “I want to have sex with you.”

Phil hadn't been expecting his asexual boyfriend to say that to anyone, him included. But consent is a conversation. Phil just wants Dan to understand that.

kissing time (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Phil is trying to live his best spherical life, but Dan just wants to smooch :/

Made for Each Other (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil 2009 Halloween YouTube meetup but it's insanely sweet. Based off some of the videos other people uploaded of them standing off alone during it. More emo boys kissing vibes.

one & only (ao3) - daliddl

Summary: Dan just finished his very last We‘re All Doomed show in London and a certain unexpected guest is waiting for him in the dressing room.

one kiss is all it takes (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: A sweet moment between two lovers.

#Phanart A Tumblr Tag (ao3) - xxThanks_Petexx (SadKiwi)

Summary: Phil eats Dan's cereal. Phil sits on tumblr and looks at phanart. They watch the movie Halfblood Prince. Phil calls Dan bear. I still can't write summaries.

Real Phousewives London (ao3) - ciarawilson

Summary: Dan orders a dramatically long robe and uses it to win the idgaf war

routine (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: The scene is as follows: The dining room is empty except for Dan, who sits in front of his computer about to upload We’re All Doomed. There is the lingering smell of fries and dips. Dan is in his pajamas, the Minecraft ones Phil always manages to hog. By the side of his desk, a full cup of cocoa has since lost its steam. It’s also from Phil. “To relax you,” he said.

Dan knows he just made two by accident.

skip all the small talk (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: AU in which Dan and Phil have hated each other for years, but when Dan takes a break and comes back to return to Vidcon, the two get stuck in an elevator together, and Dan learns that maybe he doesn't hate Phil Lester like he thought he did while trapped with him.

slumber party (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan never has been able to resist Phil’s spontaneous ideas, like having a slumber party in their lounge after filming a gaming video. Especially since it means getting to appreciate Phil in those red silk pyjamas.

(Set right after filming the DAPG video, “Getting Deep at the Slumber Party.")

so american (ao3) - ae121

Summary: Phil has been living in London for a year and thinks he's gotten pretty used to the city. He works part-time at a bookstore, using it at first to gain some friends, now it's just fun for him. His friends are constantly trying to find him someone to date, but all of his dates don't go well.

Well, that's until he met Dan.

Stay With Me (ao3) - blehmobile

Summary: Dan and Phil are flatmates, and they occasionally flirt. They agree that it is very normal to bathe with friends. Totally no tension at all.

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Phil (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Phil buys a motorcycle. Dan can't decide whether he's horny or upset. Kissing ensues.

the hoodie bow incident (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: they were kissing.

The Real Reason Why (ao3) - maytheday

Summary: The Howell family goes to Mrs. Lester's birthday party, where Dan meets a boy named Phil.

Vampire Moon (ao3) - natigail

Summary: As a werewolf, Phil knew it was foolish to stay out late on the night of a full moon. It was even more foolish to agree to take a walk with Dan who was never up to any good. But Phil couldn't admit to himself that he had a blind spot concerning the vampire, and now he was going to pay for that.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #kissing #kissing masterlist

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invisiblefoxfire · 1 year ago

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Listen up, fellow queers and token straights, we're not gonna whine about the lack of new media during the strike and we're not gonna waiver in our support of the strikers.

In the meantime, we are going to recommend to each other more already-existing media than any of us could ever watch given several lifetimes to do it in.

I'll go first. Here are just a few of the creators I care about and want you to support.

FREE TO WATCH:

Filmjoy: This YouTube channel (Movies with Mikey, Deep Dive, etc.) makes incredibly well-produced video essays on film and occasionally TV and games. The channel's focus is on positivity and finding things to love about everything. And YouTube doesn't promote that sort of thing anymore, so the channel's creators (one of whom has multiple sclerosis) are running out of money and close to losing their house. Binge these genuinely incredible video essays with adblock turned off or, better yet, sign up to their Patreon and binge them with adblock on. Seriously, I love this channel so much, and if they don't get a boost in income soon, they're going to have to stop making videos. And I want more videos. Seriously, even watch the videos about things you haven't seen. They've persuaded me to watch loads of stuff I never would have watched otherwise and they're very good about not spoiling things (and giving spoiler warnings when needed).

AyeForScotland on Twitch: This is Tumblr's very own very handsome pro-Scottish-independence @ayeforscotland who has an incredible accent and plays loads of interesting games. He's going for Partner on Twitch now, which he has already earned but been denied due to an absurd technicality regarding whether viewers being linked to the channel directly from Tumblr integration. Go follow him now if he's not live, and when he goes live, go to Twitch and manually click on his name to watch the stream, since that's apparently the best way to get him the boost he needs. He sometimes has @thebibliosphere on as a guest (DOUBLE SCOTTISH ACCENTS HELL YES) and you can watch archives of many of his streams on his YouTube Channel.

Africa Everyday: This YouTube channel is run by Babatunde, a Nigerian man who shares his life and culture, makes cooking videos, and generally is a pleasure to watch and listen to. Seriously he's one of the kindest human beings I've ever spoken with. The money he earns from the channel goes towards helping his family and his community.

CHEAP AND WORTH PAYING FOR:

Dropout.tv: You simply will not find better comedy entertainment for the money. A monthly or yearly subscription is just a few dollars a month and gives you access to countless hours of top-quality entertainment from a company that started their own streaming service rather than cater to YouTube's algorithm. This is the place that started as College Humor, but if you haven't seen them in a while, you really need to check it back out. They're incredibly inclusive in their casting and theming and the production values are insane. I recommend starting with Game Changer, a show which has made me laugh so hard I choked and almost threw up. They also have Dimension 20 (or D20), the highest-quality DnD series out there, with custom-made sets and minis, usually with a focus on sheer comedy rather than drama (most of the cast members are comedy writers or comedians) - but it WILL and I mean WILL make you cry now and then. The currently in-progress season of D20 is called Dungeons and Drag Queens and the players are four literal actual fucking drag queens including Bob the Drag Queen and friends? You need to be watching this. If you have any doubts about whether Dropout is worth it or don't have any money, you can watch many full episodes for free on the CollegeHumor YouTube channel, although they have to censor the swears on there.

Nebula: Remember Lindsay Ellis? She left YouTube because of [too many reasons to list] but it turns out she's still active, she's just on Nebula now. Nebula is the co-op of streaming sites. Users sign up for a low monthly fee and the income is distributed among the creators, weighted according to how many views they get. The videos are uncensored and ad-free and contain lots of stuff that later needs to be edited out of YouTube videos to avoid copyright strikes. They've got FilmJoy on there (remember them from the start of this list?), Philosophy Tube (@theabigailthorn), Jacob Geller, Extra Credits, and loads and loads of other stuff on all different sorts of topics. Many of these channels also have YouTube channels that contain most of their content if you can't afford a Nebula subscription, but Nebula supports them more and gives them more creative freedom.

I'm gonna stop here for now but I'll add more in reblogs as the strike continues.

I hereby invite all of you to ruin my notifications until the strike is over. Reblog this, add your recommendations (especially ones that most people might not know about), and pass it on. There will not be a single complaint about lack of things to watch while the strike is ongoing.

(Why yes I am looking for more things to watch too. I've already seen all of the above. Bring it on.)

(And if you have a few dollars to spare, support the strikers directly at the Entertainment Community Fund.)

#wga strike #wga strike 2023 #stand with the wga #do the write thing #sag aftra strike

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nichenarratives · 1 year ago

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Hurricane Heller 13

Entire works can be found on AO3 here.

last | first | next

[Tw: mentions of gore, cleaning wounds and stitching gunshots]

13. Administrative Leave

Mordecai has been there for hours, the compress held to his swollen face while he stares at the ceiling. Clutching his last connection to his family and his lost faith in hand, the tuxedo periodically runs his thumb over the ornate outer face of his pocket watch, waiting for a decision from Savage regarding his position in the organisation's well-oiled machine.

Everything about Fiores he'd proposed before their fight had been lies. The kid he bailed out was definitely an employee, but didn't work the tables that night. He was busy getting beaten, for being caught for the minor offenses and risking bringing the police knocking on their door. Mordecai simply baited the underboss' temper into a fight and ended it before the claims could be challenged, making Fiores look guilty in front of his enforces.

That doubt might save his skin, if Savage actually decides to interrogate the enforcers on what happened, but it's just as likely he'll order him a shot between the eyes to be done with them both at once.

When he last checked his pocket watch, it was almost four in the morning. Mordecai has been here for over three hours now, suffering through the waiting game as his head slowly went from an intense throbbing, to a dull ache echoing his pulse. His eye has swollen shut completely and his jaw feels bulbous and hot, making his sinuses ache, but it's all things that'll heal with time, if he's permitted to live.

It's his leg he's concerned about; the wayward bullet nicked him, searing through the outer thigh of his right leg and raw muscle, creating a shallow channel through his flesh. It's excessively painful, nauseating to look at and difficult to rest on the hard, tiled floor comfortably. His foot goes numb if he stays still too long, so he has to shift it often, which opens the clotted mess of blood and grime that's caked the frayed fabric to the wound.

Not that being comfortable would help much. He can't leave the launderette until Savage hands down orders, nor is he content to sleep with weapons pointed at him. Exhaustion claws at his consciousness, but the leg wound keeps him from succumbing to sleep, and he supposed in that regard it's a temporary benefit.

A door squeaks open. The eleventh hour is nigh.

He doesn't open his eye at first, assuming the worst is about to transpire with hushed voices in the threshold, but the click of a fine heel feels particularly out of place. Mordecai frowns before cracking his eye tiredly, to be met not with the barrel of a pistol, but a woman dressed like a school ma'am with a large Gladstone bag held before her.

Slightly shorter than average, the woman is dressed smart but demure; a sensible kitten heel and pantyhose in black, a navy skirt set with sharp box pleats, a navy suit jacket, and white shirt sporting a wide ruffle collar draped over the suit jacket. A navy cowl is pulled over her ears too, casting her face in shadow. Sharp blue eyes look the young tom up and down beneath the hood before she turns to the man at her shoulder. "I need a bowl o'boiled water an' some rag. Clean rag, mind. Th'boy don't need sepsis too."

Once the man has his marching orders, the woman places her bag on the floor, carefully kneels beside it and clicks the top open. Mordecai lowers the defunct compress to his lap as she rummages around in her bag, producing a bottle of a clear white liquor, some bandages and cotton pads. Not his executioner then, but his nurse. Perhaps I won't die tonight?

Bag left open, the woman turns back around and without warning, takes hold of his chin. Digging her claws in a little when he tries to shake her free, she waits for his protests to subside before turning his face to look at his eye and jaw, leaning in far closer than Mordecai is comfortable with. "Jus' bruisin'," she informs briskly, releasing his chin and lowering her cowl. "Y'leg migh' need stitches, but won't know f'sure 'til I get this muck off. Face is fine, though."

Mordecai is surprised to see the colourful fur beneath her cowl; a burnt orange pelt, black ear tips and thick brows, with similar black markings around her white muzzle. Bright turquoise eyes stare back into greens, all vibrancies of pelt and iris not seen natively in New York without tabby stripes. When he stays silent, she raises a brow. "Starin's rude. You want fixin', I'd suggest y'stop gawkin'."

Dark ears fold as Mordecai scowls, hackles raising. "I wasn't staring," he states, then looks away as a steaming bowl of water is placed between them. "At least, not intentionally."

"Don't matter if y'meant to or not. You'd get a smack if y'was my kid, even at y'age." She shakes her head in disapproval as she unscrews the bottle of spirit, measures a capful, and dumps it into the hot water. A second capful gets dumped in the water too, but the third is held towards Mordecai. When he doesn't take the offering, the woman sighs and pressing it into his hand, starts soaking the rag in the solution. "Get it down y'lad. This isn't gon'be fun withou' a little liquor."

The tuxedo scowls. "I don't dri-"

He cuts off with a sharp gasp, spilling a little of the shot as a solution-soaked rag presses to the raw flesh of his thigh. He tries to jerk away from the searing pain traveling through the entire appendage, but a strong hand holds him steady, the other working at the clotted mass connecting his wound to Mordecai's torn trouser leg. His toes curl, his claws drag at the cracked tiles and his head hangs as he weathers each wave of pain with nausea in his throat until it subsides.

There's no sympathy in the lines of her face when their eyes meet through his fringe, the nurse only motioning to what remains of his liquor cap before rinsing her rag. The solution turns a sick shade of pink, little clumps of blood and tissue floating away as it's rung out. Mordecai inhales shakily and knocks back the burning liquor without complaint beyond a hiss and an unconscious shudder of disgust.

Between the wound cleaning, cutting off a pant leg (the tom refused to disrobe in front of them), four stitches and binding on a dressing, the ordeal lasts an hour. Mordecai downed a second shot in lieu of actual painkillers while being stitched up and feels woozy as he's escorted to a car waiting to take the tom home. "Y'on admin leave," the nurse states as he's bundled into the back seat. "Th'boss'll be in touch soon."

Mordecai isn't quite sure what admin leave is, but he's never been so grateful to fall face first into his mattress that night, not even bothering to take off his shoes or jacket. Crumpled clothes and filthy sheets are a tomorrow-Mordecai problem, he decides as he curls up under his duvet, bandaged thigh carefully positioned to not to jostle the wound. Sleep…

-.-.-

Knock knock knock!

The sound pounds directly in Mordecai's skull, an incessant and painful thump synchronised with his pulse as it thrums in his ears, head, and neck in tandem. The monochrome tuxedo tries to open his eyes and groans when the pain only intensifies in the afternoon sun. Scrunching up his face, he lays an arm across his eyes and swallows thickly, his mouth excessively dry. Water… I need-

Knock knock knock!

He squints up at the ceiling, realising the knock wasn't just a symptom of mind but an actual knocking. Repeat, insistent knocks unlike those offered when required for a job. It takes a great deal of effort for Mordecai to sit up, pivoting his body so his - still shoe-clad? - feet touch the floorboards, a pulse echoing awfully in his ears as he pushes to his feet.

The tom gasps as sharp pains shoot up his right thigh and his leg gives way; Mordecai stumbles and falls against the nearest wall with a further grunt, stitches in his leg straining against the movement. It's then the memories return: the kid he interrogated, his fight with Fiores, the gunshot, the nurse and finally, the paint-stripping liquor far more potent than a Sabbath wine. His head swims; he swallows hard. I'm… hungover?

Knock knock knock! "Mordecai? Are you there?"

A familiar voice, though the tomcat can't quite place it in his current state. Balancing against the wall, Mordecai tests his weight on his throbbing leg before hobbling toward the front door, which seems like miles in his compromised state, a palm pressed to the wall for security the entire way. Pausing at the threshold, he runs shaking fingers through wayward morning hair before opening it.

Nataliya's smile falters immediately, hands flying to her muzzle in shock. "Oh my- what happen?"

It's then Mordecai looks down at his disheveled state: a suit and tie from the day prior still worn, now creased beyond an explainable median; one of his pants legs roughly cut off at the top of his thigh; a thick bandage wound around said exposed thigh; his shirt cuffs unfastened and collar loose, suspenders dangling down his back; and his face blown up like a balloon, pince nez broken and wonky on his deformed snout.

Mordecai sighs and without even trying to deter her, turns to hobble back inside. He's thankful when Nataliya accepts the silent invitation and slips in behind him, closing his door with a gentle click before he's hovering around his limping frame. Nataliya follows him around worriedly, almost helping him a few times before she withdraws again, uncertain what to do or even if it's appropriate to assist.

"Mordy, what happen?" The tuxedo almost laughs when she asks that, but a preliminary chuckle jerks his injuries and he grunts quietly instead, carefully sliding in his armchair. How could he explain last night without mentioning his malicious job? He takes off his pince nez and rubs his eyes slowly, kind of glad she's there, until the silence allowing Nataliya to say more: "You Ma ask me to see you okay, but I see you… very not okay."

The mention of his mother stills the tuxedo, hackles raising as he glares at Nataliya over his hand. Of course his mother is involved; she's the only reason he and Nataliya ever met, he's sure of it. Now she's got the girl doing reconnaissance on her son because he's not been home in three weeks. His hand lowers to his lap, pince nez replaced as his scowl only deepens, aching jaw tight.

"That's why you're here?" He asks, perhaps the coldest tone he's ever used with the girl cutting the air. Large black ears fold back as Nataliya recoils slightly. He has no empathy for the girl though; he's too pained, too exhausted, too angry. His gaze narrows as his frustrations finally boil over. "Not because you are concerned for my health, or that we were somewhat close, but to appease my mother."

"I was w-"

"Does she still insist we should be betrothed?" he interrupts, not wanting to hear excuses or justifications. He's heard too many such things - usually lies - when torturing the truth out of targets as Savage's puppet. He's so sick of always being someone's puppet. "Or was that inane suggestion finally put to rest once I abandoned Sabbath services?"

Tears well in her yellow eyes, features crumpled sadly, her hands wringing before her as she tries to find words while targeted by such an intense anger, especially from someone she didn't believe capable of such hatred. Eventually, she sucks in a breath, her body shaking and tail tucked between her legs. "Mrs Kovitz h-has soup for you. Matzo ball s-soup. Your Ma said you… l-like it."

With that final offering, Nataliya makes a hasty exit from the apartment, slamming the door behind her to mask her sobs. The thin walls hide nothing as she runs down the stairs and into the street in floods of tears, leaving Mordecai alone with his thoughts once more.

A flurry of mixed emotions he doesn't quite understand bombard his mind at once and in an attempt to quell them, Mordecai grabs the nearest object - one of his father's old books - and throws it at the door with an anguished cry. Not surprisingly, the book falls uselessly to the ground after striking the door, doing nothing to mediate his unsettling emotions or relieve his pain.

He feels hollow, an avocado skin scooped free of bland pith and left to rot in the sun, empty and meaningless, beyond openly decaying. Still hyper-aware of every neuron singing in his brain, incapable of processing the stimuli, Mordecai cups his face in his hands and breathes, hoping if he stays like that long enough, it'll all just… go away.

#mordecai heller #lackadaisy #fanfiction #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy mordecai #fanfic #hurricane heller #niche narratives #tracy j butler #no beta we die like atlas may #chapter 13 #hurricane heller chapter 13

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princessmia-tarot · 1 year ago

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Hello 💞 if you're still doing free tarot readings, can I have channeled messages from my person who is always on my mind, please?

-♍

Hello,

Certainly, I can provide channeled messages for you from the person who is on your mind, using the energy of the 2 of Cups Reversed. Please keep in mind that these messages are channeled insights and symbolic in nature. Here's what I sense:

"I'm feeling a sense of distance and hesitation within myself, reflected in the reversed 2 of Cups. There's an acknowledgment that our connection isn't fully aligned or flowing as it should be. I want you to know that it's not a reflection of your worth or our potential. It's more about my internal journey and the challenges I'm working through.

In this moment, I might be grappling with my own doubts and uncertainties. It's possible that external factors or past experiences are affecting my ability to fully open up. While I feel a deep connection, there's a sense of caution that's holding me back.

I want you to understand that my feelings are genuine, and there's a part of me that wishes things could be different. At times, it feels like I'm at a crossroads, torn between the desire to open up and the fear of vulnerability. My hesitation isn't a reflection of any lack of interest, but rather a reflection of my own complexities.

Please be patient with me as I navigate my emotions and challenges. Your presence and thoughts mean a lot to me, and I appreciate your understanding. I hope that as I work through my own journey, I'll find the courage to bridge the gap and connect with you more deeply.

Remember, the 2 of Cups Reversed suggests a temporary state, not a permanent one. There's still potential for growth and a deeper bond between us. It might take time, but if we're both open and patient, our connection can evolve into something more profound."

Please take these channeled messages as insights and guidance from the energy of the cards. If you have more questions or need further insights, feel free to ask. Wishing you the best as you navigate this connection! 💞

Mia ♥

- - - - - - - - -

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just6f · 2 years ago

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Hostage Situation

When Y/N L/N is kidnapped by Peter Pan to serve as a hostage and coerce her kingdom into leaving Neverland alone, she can only laugh. The mutual hatred between her and Pan, however, may lose its fire after a while.

masterlist

Your feet tread methodically around the grounds. You loop around the castle, walking past scraggly bushes and dying trees, eyes occasionally flickering to the large mountains in the distance. Your mother and father keep an impressive castle, but their focus rarely extends to the upkeep of the grounds themselves. Kings and Queens don’t exactly bother themselves with gardening- that will fall to the servants or, when you’ve managed to bore yourself enough, you.

Technically, you should be back in the castle. You are a princess, after all, and princesses rarely roam about the grounds in dirty, faded boots that have walked more miles than the most experienced of messengers. This being said, you’re not sure anyone will spare you enough thought to care. You may be a princess, but only in blood and title. Anything else must be fought for, and you’ve given up such pastimes long ago.

You suppose you’re still musing over this, which is why you don’t see the shadow swooping down over you until it’s too late. By the time you feel the uncanny stillness, or notice that an unusual darkness has swarmed around you, the shadow’s eerily human arms have wrapped around you, and your feet are already lifting from the ground. You struggle, but it is in vain, and soon you’re watching trees and rivers pass miles below you. You lock eyes with the shadow being, but its glowing white gaze betrays nothing but an emotionless urge to complete orders. Wherever you’re going, someone is waiting for you, someone who is controlling this shadow.

This realization troubles you more than you like. You don’t much like the idea of being taken somewhere, and you’re not about to just sit around and let it happen. You wait until the shadow swoops low over a rolling set of hills, and begin to fight back with renewed vigor. Although your blows tend to sink through the only somewhat corporeal shadow, you manage to stun it enough that it drops you. You fall through the air, catching yourself in the boughs of trees and scrambling down.

Your feet pound on the dirt as you sprint away from the shadow, but even this effort is useless. It appears out of nowhere in front of you, and as you skid to a stop it raises its hands and a wave of shadow rushes from it. The darkness pools around you like ink, rising to swallow you whole. You can only see one last thing before the darkness engulfs you completely: the white beacons of light that are the shadow’s eyes. Then there is nothing to see at all, and you can feel yourself falling to the ground.

When you wake up again, you find yourself lying down. You’ve been propped up against a tree, and when you open your eyes, you realize you’re in the middle of a forest. It’s a different forest than the one you were just in, and at a different time of day. The shadow must have continued the journey while you were still unconscious. You shiver slightly at the thought- wherever you are, it won’t be good. You move to sit up, but a wave of dizziness yawns open in your stomach and you lean back once more. You go to steady yourself, but your hands don’t move- they’ve been tied together with rough rope.

You had done your best to stay silent, but it’s not like you’re alone. Across the clearing, about a dozen or more boys dressed in robes of faded brown dance around a campfire. An almost maniacal glee spreads across each of their faces as they whirl and jump around, dancing to the haunting sound of a flute. The music stops after a second, but the boys continue dancing. You shiver slightly, then straighten up as a new boy approaches you. This one is dressed not in the russet tones of the others, but instead a dark, forest green. He must be their leader.

He crouches down in front of you, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Welcome, princess.” You raise an eyebrow at his tone. “An interesting welcome, sure. Nothing says fun like ropes and a kidnapping.” The boy just chuckles. “It wasn’t like you made it easy for us.” You shrug, eyes wandering away from the boy to skim the trees surrounding you. An idea is starting to click into place in your head. There’s a story you heard once, from a traveling merchant. There was an island deep in the ocean, full of boys who never seemed to grow old. They were led by one in particular, one boy who could make grown men shiver in their boots.

Your attention snaps back to the boy. Now you really look at him, at his knife-sharp grin and the cool confidence he wears like a glove. His smirk widens as if he can read your mind. “Do you know where you are, love?” You sigh, leaning your head back against the tree in exasperation. “Let me guess, I’m on Neverland.” The boy spread his hands as if in pride, and you resist the urge to groan.

If this is Neverland, then the boy in front of you must be Peter Pan. And you have heard enough about Peter Pan to know that any hour spent with this devil of a boy will be absolute hell.

Pan notices the realization sink into the girl’s eyes. She must have heard of him, he assumes, or she wouldn’t be looking at him like that. However, unlike the other visitors, there isn’t a shred of fear in her gaze. No, she just looks like she’s been dealt an unfortunate round of cards, rather annoyed instead of outright afraid. Pan’s not sure how he feels about that.

Y/N considers the rope tying her wrists. “Well, Peter, are you going to untie me or just let me stew here for a while?” Pan frowns. “It’s Pan. And no, you may be a princess but that doesn’t mean we’re all going to bow to you whenever you ask. There’s only one monarch in Neverland, and I’m afraid that title belongs to me. You’ll have to sit tight until they find out you’re missing.” Y/N scoffs, and then her eyes grow alight with suppressed laughter. “Wait- I think I know why I’m here. You’re trying to use me as a hostage.”

Y/N laughs even harder now, and Pan frowns. “I’m not sure why that’s funny. Your kingdom has been infringing upon my waters for a long time now. I intend to stop them.” Y/N shakes her head, doing her best to bite back a grin. “No, I get it. Great motive, but I’m afraid you chose the wrong hostage.” She fixes him with a cool look, finally keeping her laughter in check. “I’ve been kidnapped a couple of times before. Trust me, they won’t come for me. Not the guards, not my parents. I’m not useful to them.”

Pan frowns, curious despite himself. “What do you mean, you’re not useful to them?” Y/N shrugs. “The reason my parents became the King and Queen is because they were able to channel the power of my ancestors. Every monarch in my kingdom uses some magical artifact to gain increased strength, life, wisdom, you name it. The only problem is that it doesn’t work with me, so I’ve ceased to be a worry to them. I can’t use magic at all- not for them, not for you. You can hold me on this island for as long as you want, but it won’t work. They’re not coming after me.”

The words are light, spoken with the last traces of a laugh, but Pan still feels his stomach clench with some unnameable emotion. Maybe Y/N is meant to be a Lost Girl, maybe she’s more lost than any of them. This though alone fills him with loathing. If she’s a Lost Girl, then she’s supposed to stay on the island, even beyond her sentence as a hostage. Pan, however, is fairly sure that he doesn’t want to see this girl longer than a second. She had better be wrong about her parents, because Pan is certain that he’s going to end up killing her before the guards arrive on the shores of Neverland to rescue her.

You wake early, just before dawn begins to stain the tops of the trees with the light of morning. You stand up, stretching, and glance around the clearing. The Lost Boys appear to have gone to sleep, Pan included. They’ve left you alone for now, but you have no doubt that they’re still watching. Besides, it’s not like it would matter anyway- there’s nowhere for you to go. You’re on an island, after all, and there’s no way you could swim far enough to reach another nation’s shores.

Careful not to make a sound, you meander over to the campfire. Your hopes are proven correct when you spy a knife lying abandoned in the dirt. You pick it up, beginning to saw away at your ropes as you walk out of the clearing. You toss the cut ropes behind you, tucking the knife into your boot just in case. On an island like this, you never know when you might need a weapon.

You end up walking for about ten minutes before you get the feeling that you’re being watched. You roll your eyes. “I know you’re there, you can come out now.” One second you’re alone, and the next you’re being shoved up against a tree, an arm against your throat to stop you from moving. “You know, I’m fairly sure escaping prisoners aren’t supposed to call out to their jailers.” You scoff, pushing Pan’s arm away from you. “I appreciate the concern, Peter, but I’m not trying to escape. I’m just having a good time exploring the forest.”

You can see Pan’s eyes darken when you use his first name, but he ignores the jibe. “Who said I care about your wellbeing? I’m just making sure that you aren’t getting any ideas about an escape.” You give him a look, continuing on along the trails of the forest. “Anyone stuck on an island with you would think about escape.” He just chuckles, walking alongside you. “Tell that to my Lost Boys. They’ve chosen to leave the world behind to live on Neverland.” You smirk at him. “And what a sorry, sorry choice they’ve made.” He glares at you, but you just grin.

If you’re going to have to stay on this accursed island, you at least intend to enjoy yourself.

Y/N wakes up every morning to walk the island. Pan’s not sure why she bothers- there’s nowhere for her to go. Yet every dawn she wakes like clockwork, opening her eyes and beginning her wanderings. Pan has wondered if she’s awoken by nightmares, and that’s why she gets up so early, but if she’s plagued by night terrors Y/N is very good at hiding it. She doesn’t seem concerned at all, just keen to see the forest. Pan’s long since given up on the binding ropes- she just finds some way to remove them.

Pan’s watching his Lost Boys practice fighting when he senses another pair of eyes watching the sparring boys. He glances up to see Y/N, half hidden among the trees. Her gaze is glued to the boys, and he can almost picture her dissecting every move. There was an opening, when John stumbled, there was an opportunity, when Devin swung too low. Pan’s never heard of a princess that could fight, but if there ever was one, he’s sure that it would be her. Y/N lacks many of the key characteristics of a princess- charm being one of them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hold her own in a fight.

After the match ends with a triumphant Devin raising his fists to the sky, Pan steps forward. Instantly, the eyes of the Lost Boys all flash to him, including Y/N’s. He doesn’t speak that often, usually allowing Felix to lead classes. When he does have something to say, the Lost Boys tend to listen. Pan gestures for Y/N to step out of the grove of trees. “Well, princess, care to join the ring? Or are you all talk as we thought?”

She laughs, but Pan can see the glint of a challenge rising in her eyes. Y/N steps forward, and Pan points out a Lost Boy to act as her opponent. “Nick, I’d usually tell you to not rough her up too bad, but to be honest, I think we all want to see her get punched.” Y/N smirks. “If that’s true, why don’t you come down here and fight me yourself?” It’s a challenge, certainly, but Pan speaks before it can gain traction with the Lost Boys. “I’d never dirty my hands fighting someone like you.” Y/N, wisely, says no more, and shifts into a fighting stance opposite Nick.

To be honest, Pan does have to feel bad for the guy. No matter what he tries, Y/N throws him away like he’s nothing. She blocks his attacks, she punches and kicks and basically tears the guy to shreds. It would be humiliating were it not for the fact that Y/N is so obviously better than anyone on this island except for Pan and maybe Felix. Y/N flashes Pan a grin, extending a hand lightly coated in blood that does not belong to her. “Want to send another Lost Boy into the ring, or have you accepted the fact that I’m not going down easily?” Pan returns her smile. “I think I’m good.” And maybe, he just might be okay with all of this.

You’re relaxing by the campfire in the morning when you first hear the sounds of running footsteps. After that fight with Nick (although fight isn’t exactly the right word for it, maybe instead you could call it a bloodbath), the other Lost Boys accepted you immediately. Even Peter seems to approve of you now, and you catch him smiling softly at you across a clearing when he thinks you can’t see. You’re not sure why you notice, or why you keep thinking about it, but you’re fairly sure he shouldn’t linger behind your eyes as long as he does.

You look up at the swiftly approaching pair of Lost Boys, expecting to see them collapse in laughter, but the boys instead look worried, faces drawn with anxiety. You stand up, suddenly tense. What could make these boys look so nervous? They run over to Peter, practically tripping over themselves in an attempt to make it to their leader. Even from here, you can hear their words. “Guards- a ship full- the king and queen- they’re attacking us.”

You can see Peter’s face freeze. He speaks to them quickly. “They were flying the flags of Y/N’s kingdom? You’re sure of it?” They nod. “They’re pouring down the beaches now. They’ll be here any second.” Peter curses under his breath, calling to the rest of the boys to grab weapons and defend the camp. You race over to him. “I can fight. Give me a weapon.” Peter stares at you. “You’d fight against your parents?” You nod. “They’re not here for me, they’re here for the magic on the island. Trust me, they wouldn’t come all this way if they didn’t think they could get something out of it.”

Peter’s brow furrows as he realizes what you’re saying. “You think that’s why they’re here?” You nod. “There’s no other reason. I’ve been kidnapped before, they never came. They’re not here for me.” You repeat, and Peter’s jaw clenches. “Get a sword, you can fight with the others.” He starts to move away, then steps back to you. “And Y/N? Stay safe.” You nod, returning the assurance of safety. Then the two of you run your separate ways, each desperate to save the island that’s somehow become your home in a matter of weeks.

You pull on a hooded cloak so the guards can’t recognize you. You can’t take the chance that they’d try to bring you back to the ship, not when you’re supposed to be fighting for Neverland. Your sword moves in a never-stopping arc, cutting through armor and slicing the soldiers like the warriors of old. At last, you pause for a second, noting that the situation on the beach has cleared. Yet you don’t see your parents, even though the Lost Boys said they were here. A chill rises in your throat as you realize what must be happening, and you turn and race back to the camp. Back to Peter.

Sure enough, your parents have found him. They’re using all of their magic against him, doing their best to take him down. Peter is strong, far stronger than either of them. Yet the two of them and additional guards against one Lost Boy isn’t a fair fight, even if it’s against Peter. Your heart is pounding in your throat. You’re going to have to make a decision, one you promised yourself you’d never have to make.

You fling your arms up, and a wall of magic slams into your parents. They crumple to the ground along with the guards and lie there, unmoving. You can tell that they’re still breathing, albeit slowly. Peter’s gaze flashes from the suddenly unconscious guards to you, who stands there still, breathing heavily. Your arms are still raised from the burst of magic, and you lower them slowly. His gaze seems to burn right through you, and you begin to speak quickly, desperate to say something, anything, to stop the cutting look in his eyes.

“They never saw me, their backs were turned. We can get them onto the ships and away. They’ll think it was you, that you were too powerful for them. They won’t return. They won’t know about me.” Peter steps forward, but your feet feel leaden in your boots. You’re not sure you could move if you tried. His voice is quiet. “You do have magic.” You nod hesitantly. “I didn’t want them to know. I knew if they found out they would use me as a weapon, and I didn’t want to live as their blade.”

Understanding begins to dawn in Peter’s eyes. “You didn’t need the artifacts because you already had power of your own. You were smart to hide it from them.” His brow furrows again, confusion sweeping over him. “Why would you show me? Why would you trust me?” You look away. “You let me into your island, into the Lost Boys, without knowing about my powers for a second. I served no use to you, not even as a hostage. You didn’t want me here because of how I could help you, you wanted me here because of who I was. That’s why.”

Peter’s quiet for a second, and you begin to think that you’ve said too much. “They’ll probably find out after a while. I can board another ship, make my way back to the Enchanted Forest. They won’t bother you if I leave.” Peter says nothing, and you almost fear that he won’t say anything at all. That he’ll let you leave without another word, too wounded over this lie. Then his hand is on your cheek, guiding your eyes back to him, and he kisses you.

He kisses you for a second, then breaks away. His face is inches from yours, his breath hot on your cheeks. “I’m not letting them take you. Not now, not ever. I don’t want you to leave, Y/N. You’ve been a Lost Girl since the day you arrived and I can’t let you go because you want to protect us.” A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips. “What happened to there only being one monarch on the island?” Peter laughs quietly. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

#peter pan #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan oneshot #ouat #ouat imagines #ouat x reader #ouat oneshot #peter pan ouat #peter pan ouat imagines #peter pan ouat x reader #peter pan ouat oneshot #once upon a time #once upon a time peter pan #once upon a time imagines #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time oneshot

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subwaysurf45 · 4 years ago

Text

Tech problems (bucky x reader)

Summary: bucky doesn’t know how to work the TV, his new phone, anything. After getting made fun if he wants to quit but the reader helps him out.

Pairing: bucky barns x reader

Warning: mentions of death near the end, but it’s mostly fluff

Masterlist!

Bucky stood at the counter in the kitchen, full weight leaning on the concrete slab that most people ate off of. His eyebrows were basically touching as he fiddled with his phone that Tony just gave him, he just couldn’t figure it out for the life of him.

“Hey, old guy!” Tony walked in, “whatcha doing?” He walked over and peered over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Trying to…” his brain wasn’t focused on completing the sentence, more on creating an e-mail.

“I see,” Tony snatched the phone from Bucky’s hands and turned his back to him, Bucky tried to see what he was doing but Tony kept walking around. A little bit of anger grew inside him because Tony seemed just fine at working with tech- everyone did.

Steve had walked in, “Tony, what are you doing?” His voice was tired and annoyed, he already knew what was happening simply from the way Bucky looked longingly at Steve. “Tony-“

“Ah-ta-ta, let me help him.” Tony smirked, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “I’m doing it all for him, aaaand- done!” He turned and slapped the phone in the table, it looked like everyone else’s.

“What did you do to it?” Bucky asked, his anger coming through in his tone.

“Nothing, tin man- old man- silver hair, just nothing.” He seemed like he was telling the truth, “i just did it so you wouldn’t keep annoying me and asking so many god damn questions, jeez.” Tony scoffed and walked away, Bucky didn’t pick up the phone, rather stare at it.

“How stupid am I?” Bucky asked, “really, like you got this figured out in less than a week, Tony told me when I asked for the Bluetooth password.”

“Wifi.” Steve corrected.

“What?” Bucky looked over, “same thing, who cares…” Bucky waved him off, his head snapped up at Steve suppressing a laugh, his stomach sank, “what?” His voice light and almost a whisper.

“It’s not the same thing, very much not the same thing.” He laughed, Bucky sighed, he’d had enough of this. Bucky picked up the phone and walked down the hall, “oh, come on! I’m having fun with you!” Steve laughed.

~~~

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, training with Nat had just ended and you were heading back to your shared room with Bucky. As you walked past the kitchen you saw Steve looking at nothing, he hand kept his head up.

“Why the long face?” You panted, still needing to catch your breath.

“I made fun of Bucky, he’s mad now.” His mouth barley moved, the sentence was muffled.

“About what?” You asked softly but you were still mad, he made fun of your boyfriend.

“Him not knowing how to use tech,” Steve looked up and saw your jaw drop, “what?”

“Literally last night he was so upset because he called me when I was training and he used the emergency signal, so I came running to our room and he had no idea.” You looked towards the bedrooms, “he was so upset with himself that he made me scared, he was all in his head. I need to go check up on him,” you sighed and turned to go to your room; that hot shower had to wait.

Once you made it to your room you softly knocked on the door, “Bucky?” You called, when you heard a hum you opened the door a jar, seeing him slumped over with his phone in his hands. “Hey, babe.” He seemed to break out of his thoughts when you placed a hand on his back.

“Hi, doll face.” He tried to smile, “how’s training?” He looked over to you as you sat beside him.

“Very long and very tiring,” you chuckled, you knew if you asked how he was doing he might get mad or breakdown, “Steve told me what happened, he seemed sad when I was in the kitchen.” Your hand started to rub his upper back, making sure you didn’t hit any scars through the shirt. “You wanna talk about it?” His phone was still on the home page, all the apps were downloaded but you knew he didn’t do that himself.

“I don’t know anything,” he sighed, “i don’t know how to work my phone, the microwave, the TV…I don’t know how to use the system thing in here properly, I can barley understand cars these days, that’s why I use the motorcycle because they didn’t change much but-… y/n, everyone thinks it so funny, the old guy who doesn’t know jack shit about tech.” He slumped forward.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” you moved up to the back of his neck, knowing he likes when you get under into his scalp.

“You’re different.” He stated.

“How so?”

“Because you’ve never been mean to anyone, you’re this shining star, you’re a light and you’re never mean.” His eyes left his phone and he looked at your leg, not wanting to make eye contact after saying that.

Your heart melted, his lips turned up at the quickly kiss to his cheek. He looked over and kissed you back, your hands wrapped around his neck and his pulled your waist in. After pulling away your foreheads rested on one another’s.

“Let me teach you, yeah?” You whispered, “no jokes. No funny business. As long as you need, I’ll go through it all.” You leaned back and waiting for his response.

“I don’t wanna make you go through-“

“Nope. Final rule, no self-doubt.” You smiled, his lip pouted out and he tried to cover his face and blush.

“Okay,” he nodded, “teach me.”

“Not right now,” you laughed, Bucky quirked a brow, “I’m tired and sweaty and I feel gross, also, I would like some cuddles.” You stood and grabbed your towel and a change of comfy clothes, “tomorrow.”

~~~

It was the next day, Bucky sat on the bed as you walked around the TV in your shared room, deep down he wanted to take some notes but he knew if anyone found them, he’d never hear the end of it.

“So let’s start basic,” you stood in front of the blank TV, “let’s say you’ve lost he remote, this is how you control it. Right here,” you pointed to the circle with a line through the top symbol, “that is the universal signal for on and off, look for that. Then, once you’ve pressed it here is the little notches for the volume and then the channel notches.” You pointed as you went along the bottom of the screen.

“Sounds easy,” Bucky muttered more to himself.

“But we have a remote, here, same little symbol, on and off. There, that’s the volume, and the big circle can help navigate up and down, side to side.” You showed him up close, “lots of these buttons will never be used, so I won’t really go through them.” You waved it off. “Okay, test number one, turn of the tv.” You passed the remote.

“Okay…” bucky clicked the button with the symbol he now knew and the screen lit up, some random cartoon played, “yes!” He shit up and jumped, quickly catching himself he sat back down.

“Can you change the channel for me?” You asked, a smirk on your face from his reaction before, he clicked the channel button and it went to the news. “And turn it up, please.”

“Easy,” he smiled and clicked, no sound came out. “What?” He clicked again and the sound came back, but not louder.

“You hit the mute button, use the long button here,” you pointed, he clicked up and it went up one level, after catching on and holding it the volume kept going up, “Bucky-“ you tried to warn but the volume cut out completely.

“Shit.” He stood up, Bucky fiddled with the notches on the actual TV but nothing happened. “What did I do?” His face i genuine terror, “did I break it, oh god, Tony’s gonna get some mad.”

“You blew out the speakers,” after observing the smoke coming out from the side of the TV that was the only possible answer.

“I knew i’d mess it up, I get so cocky, I really thought I had it.” He paced around, tugging his hair.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine,” you calmed him and sat him in the bed, “it’s hard at first but it will only get easier.” You smiled before pulling him into a hug, you could feel his sigh of defeat as he hugged back.

You both headed out to the kitchen, Bucky still in a mood from breaking the TV a couple minutes ago. You both had some coffee, yours with a little milk.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Tony walked in, Bucky looked right at his feet and tried not to look awkward. “What’s up with cyborg over here?” Tony giggled.

“Nothing,” you dipped your coffee, Bucky just nodded along.

“I got a notification that the speakers in your room were blown out,” Tony teased, Bucky stiffened and inches closer to you, “what happened?”

Bucky looked up, his mouth open and about to talk. You gently placed a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye, a way of saying ‘I got this’.

“I sat in the remote, turns out my ass poked it right at the volume and I couldn’t figure it out in time.” You laughed, Bucky looked at you crazy before forcing one out.

Tony hunched over, “I can picture that, oh wow- I wish I was there!” He cackled before turning away and walking down the hall, “it’ll be fixed by tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder.

~~~

It was lonely without you, it was very rare you’d go in missions without Bucky but also rare you’d go alone. It was a simple infiltrate, you were more on the espionage rather than Captain America side of powers.

Bucky had tired to talk to Steve about letting someone go with you, this mission would involve zero contact with the base. But no one listened, it was always going to be you.

It had been a month, three quarters done with the they needed. The tech lesions had to be halted, you weren’t there to teach and Bucky refused to let anyone tell him anything about the tech in his room.

“If only you could see me, babe…” he whispered as he worked the TV, that was the only thing he knew, and he was great at it. Last week he recorded a show, he was never going to watch it, but it as recorded. He almost had a heart attack when the remote stopped working, but it just ran out of batteries.

After doing all the cool tricks he knew he looked over to your side of the bed, it was neatly made and seemed untouched. Whenever you’d be fine for even a night he’d sleep on the ground, but he promised he’d sleep on the bed, but he never rolled over or even sat on your side.

The one thing he missed was the way your shampoo stunk up the whole bed in a good way, when he’d wake up the morning after you’d showered he’d could smell your lavender shampoo right away, it almost puts him back to sleep. But as the days went on, it faded.

Bucky looked around before gently placing his face your pillow, almost like an afterthought of your sent came through; just barley there. His face hovered before he gave in and relaxed on it, he knew if he’d roll around the sent would fade quicker, he didn’t really care.

There was a hard spot on your pillow, he reached under and found a green spiral notebook. It didn’t have anything in the cover, once he opened it a gasp fell from his lips.

It was a notebook, for every piece of tech in the house. From his phone to how F.R.I.D.A.Y. works, it was all there. Intricate diagrams that where labeled, one page had everything he needed to know.

Bucky’s phone sat face down in his bedside table, he flipped the that page and looked it over. He picked up his phone and read through it all, slightly muttering then words that were written to himself like he was being taught.

“Okay, you got this,” he said as he pressed the on button, as he navigated around he learned how to add a contact, send and text, google, the a picture, send an email. Everything.

~~~

You walked into the compound completely exhausted, one black eye layer, the base had been infiltrated. You went to your mission report computer and Tony was there, he gave you your phone.

“Connect back to the wifi,” he nodded before leaving you to connect.

Once you were fully back online your phone began to buzz, over and over. Tons of notifications rolled in. You went to emails first.

From: bucky

To: y/n

Subject: test?

Hellooooooo this is a test, don’t worry about it!

You laughed and scrolled through the other emails, finding out they were all kind of the same, then you went to text messages.

There was a selfie of him holding the green book, his smile couldn’t have been wider. He sent three, probably by accident. But they were still cute.

So I figured hit text!

Kinda cool

I found the book, it was like Christmas

Anyway, I know you won’t read this but I think I’ll try the oven next, I’ll ask wanda about it.

As the texts went on, your heart started to drop and your stomach swirled. They had been getting progressively sadder.

Hey doll face, I hope you’re well, miss you

I miss you

I love you

I wanna marry you one day, maybe live on farm and have a few kids

If you want

Sent: two months ago

I finished your book, I think I know it all now, I’ve been going over those tests you put in the back sleeve, they’re really good

You’re very thoughtful

I know you can’t see this

I don’t know what to do with myself, this is very hard.

Sent: one month ago

Are you dead?

I had a dream you died in my arms, and I can’t tell if it was a flashback or a dream

I hope you’re not

I love you too much

Please come home

Please

I really need you

I wish I never learn how to use this shit, honestly, I can’t seem to put my phone down because this is all I have if you right now. I keep checking it to see if you’ve responded but I know you haven’t, but part of me wants you to respond so I know you’re alive.

I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.

Sent: 24 hours ago

You slammed the phone down and raced down the hall, you passed the kitchen and everyone who smiled at you because they hadn’t seen you in three months, they probably also thought you were dead.

You stopped right before the door, you could hear soft whimpers coming from inside.

“I miss you,” the voice was muffled.

You opened the door silently, you saw Bucky lying right next to your side of the bed, it was still perfectly made. You also saw what looked like glass shattered by the wall, a closer look and it was his phone.

“Bucky?” You asked.

His head shot up and he sat up straight, after wiping his face he ran right over to you. His hug pushed you back on the floor, he just stayed there.

“Don’t ever do that again, please.” His voice was still shaken, “I can’t go through that again.”

“Never again, i was so worried when I saw your text a minuet ago.” You whispered and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Your name in my phone, your the only one.” He sniffled, “it was like it was taunting me, I got really mad and I threw it.” He hugged you tighter, “you were supposed to come home two days ago.” He cried.

“I know,” you housed him and sat up, as he pulled away he saw your bruised face, his thumb gently traced the purple mark.

“I don’t want a phone, I like knowing about it, but I’ll only ever borrow yours.” He seemed like he was pledging something, like an oath.

“Done deal,” you pulled him in for a long kiss, hoping it would never end.

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barns #comfort #marvel #bucky oneshot #bucky barns fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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edendaphne · 4 years ago

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 18

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

——-

CHAPTER 18: AFFETUOSO

Music glossary:

Affetuoso: to perform with passion and emotion

**Chapter illustration by @corgi-likes-chat **

----

(Mood Music: “Christofori’s Dream” - David Lanz)

Adrien’s eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile still present on his face. He breathed out a long, contented sigh, stretching his limbs out wide enough that they poked out of the bedcovers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.

Last night, after Marinette awoke him from his most harrowing night terror to date, he’d fallen back asleep and something remarkable happened: for the second time in years, he’d actually had a pleasant dream. The only other time he hadn’t suffered from his usual nightmares ever since becoming Chat Noir was on the first night that he’d arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence.

He tried to think back, wondering what might have caused this, not just last night, but back on that first day Marinette had brought him home. What did these two occurrences have in common?

His mouth quirked to the side and his brow furrowed, deep in thought, trying to remember. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when he’d arrived a couple of months back, given all that had happened when he ran away from his father; so it was no surprise that his memory of that night was hazy at best. Nevertheless, he hoped to find a correlation; if there was one, maybe he could figure out how to repeat it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand sliding across his midsection. Disturbed by his movements, a smaller body rolled toward him, settling comfortably on his chest and breathing out a drowsy sigh.

He looked down and there she was: sweet, lovely Marinette; one of the dearest and most important people in his life. The raven-haired girl stirred, letting out a small whine; Adrien stilled, subconsciously holding his breath, not wanting to wake her and accidentally reveal his identity.

This became much harder when she reached around him, her fingers lightly skimming across his rib cage. His muscles tensed and he bit back a laugh; why did he have to be so darn ticklish?!

He readjusted himself, trying to shuffle out from underneath her; but she clinged to him like an overgrown barnacle, even in her unconscious state. I guess she’s a cuddler, he thought, and he couldn’t help but smile about how well that suited her.

It was still pretty dark in the room, as the sun hadn’t risen yet. He glanced over at the wall clock; he still had about an hour and a half before he had to report to work at the bakery, so he didn’t have to rush to get ready. Relieved, he sagged back down onto his pillow. He could relax for a little longer, he supposed.

Deciding to check his notifications while Marinette slept, he gingerly reached towards his nightstand to grab his phone, careful not to disturb her. He’d deactivated all his social media accounts since running away from home, so there weren’t very many notifications; there was a school-related email and a couple of late night funny memes from Nino.

Adrien checked the Ladyblog next. No news about any akumas this morning, thankfully. However, there were a few blurry snapshots of the previous night’s attack. He scrolled down for a bit, then stopped, his eyes popping open as he focused his attention on a particular photo.

He couldn’t suppress the lovestruck sigh that escaped his lips when he stared at a picture of Ladybug. His Lady was breathtaking, her eyes so ethereal, her smile utterly resplendent. She was indescribably beautiful, both inside and out and there was absolutely nothing he would change about her. He was hopelessly smitten, no doubt about it.

A few months ago, he would have berated himself for feeling this way about his mortal enemy. But his entire life had been turned upside down since then, and he wholeheartedly embraced this unexpected development.

The next photo was taken after the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had set everything back to where it should be. Ladybug had seen that Alya was about to snap a photo, so she grabbed Chat and turned him around to face the camera, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She grinned widely, and did a peace sign with her free hand. So cute.

He glanced over to his own face and instinctively grimaced. He was winking at the camera with a goofy, cheerful salute, not bothering to channel the suave, sophisticated mannerisms of a proper model that he’d incurred over the years. God, I’m so cringy, he thought.

Nevertheless, he saved the picture onto his phone. It was the first photo of them together like this, as opposed to impersonal ones taken by the media from afar, or during press releases and interviews.

It had only been posted a few hours ago, but already it had thousands of likes and comments. He didn’t dare look through those, however. Not since he first discovered the kinds of things people wrote about Chat Noir, both before and after his change in alliances. It was better to avoid those, lest he ruin his day reading about how much some people still hated him.

But he remembered Marinette’s words from the night before. She was right; he had to have hope, and believe that things would slowly get better. Attitude was everything.

Speaking of Marinette…

He looked down at his roommate once again. By this point, she’d slinked and climbed almost entirely on top of him, utilizing him like a mattress. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he wondered how in the world he’d be able to slip out of bed undetected.

All the stealth-based videogames I’ve ever played have prepared me for this moment. I got this!! he thought, hyping himself up.

Taking a deep breath in, he rolled over to his side, managing to slide Marinette’s ragdoll-like form back onto the mattress. She made a small noise and he froze, electricity crawling up the back of his neck. A few tense moments passed, and her stirring subsided, her breathing becoming slow and even once again. He exhaled, just now realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Freedom!! Adrien celebrated as he stood, stretching his arms high over his head, taking care not to hit the ceiling lights. His skin felt grimy with dried sweat from the night before; a shower was exactly what he needed right now. He tiptoed over to get a change of clothes from the dresser, giving the occasional glance towards the bed to make sure Marinette was still asleep.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped by her side, a warm smile spreading across his face. He bent over and gave the top of her head a small kiss. Where would he be without her and her family? She and Sabine especially went out of their way to help him feel at home, to make him feel like he belonged, instead of treating him like a nuisance, or like some freeloader just taking up space. He loved them all so much; he vowed to himself to make it up to them someday.

He pulled the bedcovers up to Marinette’s shoulders so she wouldn’t miss the extra warmth too much, then made his way to the bathroom to start the day.

Marinette stirred, enveloped in softness and a familiar scent of spice and fresh rain. Eyes still closed, she extended her arm, reaching for the oversized cat pillow on her bed that she always liked to cuddle.

Her searching hand found something soft. Aha! She brought it closer, snuggling it tight, then began to get comfortable again. But then, her pillow started poking her cheek, over and over and over. The pillow’s poking only intensified when she tried squeezing it even harder. How rude!

Wait... what?

A single eyelid groggily slid open, meeting a small pair of eyes of a distinctive shade of green. A rather frazzled-looking Plagg stared back, his expression unamused from being squished between her and the pillow she was hugging.

“Sorry, Plagg,” she slurred sleepily as she pulled away to give him some space. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his little arms, raising a brow. “I live here, remember?”

“But why are you in my room–– oh, wait…” she stopped, the memory of last night starting to rush back to her. This wasn’t her room; it was Chat’s. She’d slept in his room last night. And the bed she was lying in was his bed. These were his blankets and pillows, and they carried his scent. Heat rose to her face and a multitude of imaginary butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she realized that she’d actually spent the night with him, albeit under less than ideal circumstances.

And then a second realization dawned on her: Chat Noir was gone.

She sat up with a start, her head whipping back and forth to search for him. As she was about to panic, she heard the shower running in the en suite bathroom, punctuated by some cheerful humming. With a heavy, relieved sigh, she laid back down, careful not to squish the tiny cat god next to her.

“By the way, Little Bug,” Plagg murmured, meekly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for helping my kid last night.”

“Oh, of course, Plagg!” she replied. “I’m always happy to help however I can.”

He gave her a melancholy smile. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done. I tried waking him up myself, but he couldn’t hear me at all, no matter how hard I tried.” He sighed, twisting his mouth into a pained frown. “He doesn’t deserve this. He's already gone through so much.”

“Plagg, no, it’s okay! You did your best, and I’m sure Chat knows that too. I’m just glad I was able to get through to him. It was lucky that I happened to be downstairs at that time. Chat couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.”

Plagg grinned widely at her. “I always knew I liked you,” he remarked, scooting closer and nuzzling into her.

Marinette smiled back, returning the hug and kissing the top of his head, followed by providing him with some gentle scratches behind the ears. He let out a small, contented purr as he leaned into her hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, Plagg spoke again, “Little Bug, there’s... something else you need to know.”

They pulled apart, and Marinette eyed him with trepidation. “What is it?”

“It was too dark, so you didn’t see it, but–” he said with a grim tone in his voice, “–I need to let you know what really happened last night.”

“Huh?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I know he said his night terrors aren’t usually this bad, but was there something else?”

A dark look flickered on Plagg’s face. “Hawkmoth tried to akumatize him last night.”

Marinette felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of ice water. “W- WHAT?!” she sputtered. “B-but how is that possible?! Akumatized?? He was asleep! Hawkmoth can’t akumatize people who are unconscious!!” She paused, pondering the possibility. “Right…?”

“It’s tricky, but not impossible,” Plagg replied. “Hawkmoth knows about Chat Noir’s nightmares, so he must’ve sensed his opportunity and finally taken it last night.”

Marinette brought a hand to her temple in disbelief.

Plagg continued, “I don’t know why he decided to try it now, instead of when he first ran away. And what if–” he gulped, and his voice quavered slightly as he continued, unable to conceal his fear, “What if he tries it again? What if he tries it every night?”

“No… he wouldn’t… he can’t!!” Marinette cried, staring at the bathroom door, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She clenched her fists as she tried not to give into the feelings of dismay and anxiety that were clawing away at her. “Plagg… What do we do?! Hawkmoth’s patterns seem to be getting more erratic and desperate recently. Is he under some kind of deadline? Why is he doing this??”

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Tikki answered from across the room.

Marinette practically leaped off the bed in surprise due to Tikki’s abrupt entrance. “Tikki!” she exclaimed.

The brightly colored kwami hovered towards them and elaborated, “Firstly, as Chat grows older, his powers will continue to get stronger, as will yours, so you’ll be more difficult for Hawkmoth to defeat as time goes on. Secondly, I think the effects of misusing the butterfly miraculous must be catching up to him as well. His desperation suggests that maybe he thinks he’s running out of time.”

“Out of time? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, confused.

Plagg sighed. “It’s his health,” he answered. "He wasn’t doing very well even before we left. Slowly but steadily, it’s been getting worse for a while.” He turned to face Tikki. “You think Hawkmoth believes that he’s gonna… you know... soon?”

Tikki shrugged in response, her expression blank.

“Oh… I see,” Marinette said, her voice almost a whisper.

Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions crashing into her simultaneously, like a rowboat in a tempest, slamming into a cliffside without respite.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Her chest felt tight, like it did when she wanted to cry. Should she feel happy or sad that her mortal enemy was getting sicker and sicker, to the point where his life was potentially in danger? Was it okay to feel–dare she say it– relieved?

What was she supposed to think? As a hero, was it more important to be merciful, or was it more important to be just? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two completely opposite directions. Despite hating the man with every fiber of her being, part of her thought that maybe dying was too extreme a punishment. And yet, at the same time, the hurt, embittered part of herself thought that maybe dying would be too easy, like he was getting let off the hook instead of being forced to acknowledge his wrongs and feel remorse for the horrible things he’d done.

For years, she’d dreamed about the day when Hawkmoth would be defeated and his miraculous confiscated. It was supposed to be a happy time, full of rejoicing and excitement. But she’d never considered the possibility that Hawkmoth would be defeated by an entirely different force, one that she had no say in how or when it happened. It didn’t feel fair. She hated feeling this powerless.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief tug at her sleeve. She looked down at Tikki, who motioned towards the bathroom with a small nod. It was then that she noticed the noise–or rather– the absence of it, which could only mean one thing: Chat Noir had finished his shower, and he’d be coming out of the bathroom any minute now.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tikki whispered.

Marinette nodded. She turned to Plagg and whispered, “We’ll talk more later. I’ll call Master Fu later today and see if he has any advice.”

“M’kay. See ya,” he replied with a small wave. “Bye, Sugarcube.”

Tikki looked back and gave him a reassuring smile, then followed Marinette out the door.

Plagg hovered towards the windowsill while he waited for his charge, plopping down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the window, taking in the many colors of the dawn sky, which looked almost too bright and vibrant for his liking. How dare the heavens look so beautiful while he felt so miserable inside? The day hadn’t even really started, and yet the only thing he wanted to do was to just crawl back into bed. He dearly hoped that the heavy, uneasy feeling in his gut would go away soon.

(A short while later)

Work at the bakery had been lively and hectic today; so much so that Chat Noir had to be reminded when his shift was over and that he needed to head to school. He gave Sabine a parting hug, the latter thanking him for his hard work and giving him some encouraging words as she helped dust the flour off his suit and hair.

Chat retrieved his cloak from a coat hanger by the door and stepped into the stairwell that led to the living quarters, so that he could retrieve his school supplies and exit through Marinette’s balcony trap door as he normally did. That was definitely one of the plus sides of working in the kitchen while transformed; he could wear his school outfit underneath and not require a change of clothes or a shower when he was through. He could merely detransform and be good as new.

As he ascended up the stairs, he heard a familiar deep voice call out to him from below. Chat froze, then turned around, trying to keep his nerves under control.

“Could I speak with you for a minute?” Tom asked.

Uh-oh.

“O-of course, Mr. Dupain,” Chat replied, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves.

Tom’s face was mostly neutral, but his body was rigid and there was a hint of gloom in his eyes. Chat did his best not to cringe as he stood in front of the much taller man who, despite not being a superhero, looked like he could toss him clear to the Eiffel Tower if he felt like it. To prevent himself from fidgeting, Chat finally opted to stick his hands inside his pockets.

“What is it, sir? D-did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I was running a bit late, so I apologize if I didn’t put something back in the right spot. O-or did I mess up an order?? I’m sorry, I can go back and fix… whatever it is!”

“No, everything’s fine; it’s something else,” he answered, and Chat felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.

However, it came back full force when Tom didn’t say anything else. Chat’s heartbeat sped up as they stood face to face in silence, unsure of the route this conversation was about to take.

What else could he be in trouble for? Did he find out Marinette had fallen asleep in his bedroom yesterday? Oh no… Did Tom think he and Marinette had… done something unseemly together last night?! Was he getting kicked out of the house?? His mind raced and his chest thumped, and he prepared himself to beg on his knees for forgiveness if need be.

A few agonizingly long and awkward seconds later, Tom spoke again, “Chat Noir… I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Oh, I see. Wait… WHAT?!?” Chat felt like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath him. “Apologize?? What for?”

Tom lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, his entire posture taut as a bowstring. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot, you and I. You’ve been nothing but cordial and polite, and all I’ve done since you arrived is give you the cold shoulder, and for that I’m truly sorry. I wanted to clear the air and start over, if that’s okay with you.”

“Mr. Dupain! N-no, please, it’s okay!” Chat sputtered, his hands waving frantically. “I totally understand why you would have reservations about me living here, o-or even interacting with you guys at all! They’re totally justified concerns! I mean, up until a few months ago, I was still working with Hawkmoth; so the fact that you even allowed me into your home at all is incredibly kind of you! I’ve never felt any ill will towards you, I swear! You were just doing what any good father would––” he trailed off, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice, “–would do.”

Tom winced and sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly my point, though. It may have been justified at first, but that was back then . I tolerated you for the sake of my wife and daughter, but I was always suspicious. I should’ve given you a chance instead of just judging you for no reason, especially after all this time. So I wanted to try to make it up to you.”

It was then that Tom brought something shiny out of his shirt pocket. It was an adorable little keychain shaped like a croissant. But wait… no, it wasn’t just a keychain, Chat realized. There was a key dangling on the end. A house key. Tom handed it over, doing his best to try to conceal a timid smile.

Chat gaped at him, reeling from what was happening. “I… I don’t know what to say. That is so generous of you! Thank you, Mr. Dupain,” he replied meekly, staring into his hands at the key. HIS key.

He felt the man’s large hand pat him on the shoulder and Chat looked up, meeting his soft, forest green eyes. “Please, call me Tom.”

Chat had to consciously fight the urge to let his jaw drop. If he wasn’t dreaming last night with Ladybug’s revelation, he was surely dreaming now. “Y-yes, sir! Uhh, Mr. Tom, sir. Uhh, I mean…” he stammered, still not recovered from having been gobsmacked out of nowhere.

The older man gave out a hearty laugh. “Just Tom. And please, if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Even if it’s just someone to lend an ear. You’ve got a good heart despite the bad hand that’s been dealt to you, and you have so much potential. We’re happy to have you in our family, even if you’re only here temporarily. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

Chat’s heart swelled with affection, so full that it felt like it might burst, and his eyesight became blurry with unshed tears. He threw his arms around the giant man in front of him, someone who he never thought would fully accept him, squeezing hard.

“Thank you, Tom! Thank you so much, I’m just–” he let out a shuddering sigh then continued, voice cracking, “–thank you.”

Tom squeezed back firmly, giving him an affectionate pat. Failing to hide a sniffle, he then added, “I should let you get going, I don’t wanna make you late for school.” The pair pulled apart, and Tom ruffled Chat’s hair. “Be safe out there, kiddo.”

After saying their goodbyes, Chat bounded up the stairs, practically floating with glee. He’d missed this feeling; the feeling of being part of a family. As he emerged onto the rooftop balcony, he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, his heart full of excitement and hope.

He arrived at the school in high spirits and a huge grin on his face. He detransformed in a discreet location and practically skipped to the school’s entrance; then he entered the campus, carefree, joyful, and blissfully unaware of the dark eyes that followed him inside.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Enemies AU #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Ladynoir #enemies to lovers #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes #art by others #Fanfic art

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

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origami10 · 2 years ago

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My contribution for #ajinweek22 Day 2 is finally done! With the prompts orange/baby AU, I knew I had to continue my Kazuki story. Read here or on AO3! I also took some extra time but had fun and wrote chapter 3 in Japanese as well, it’s also on AO3. Unfortunately chapters 1 & 2 don’t have Japanese versions (yet…)

This is chapter 3, but it can be read as a standalone story!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249771/chapters/101445402

Kazuki, chapter 3

“I’m hoooooome!!”

It was one of the lucky days, when Kou-dad and Kei-dad were both between working night shifts, so they had slept through the morning and were awake now to welcome me back from middle school. Today might not be as lucky as those days usually were, though. There were some things I wanted to tell them, and some things I didn’t.

“How was school.” Kei-dad asked in a perfunctory manner. Or was it cursory? Vocabulary wasn’t one of my strong points. He was always getting on my case about it.

I fwumped down next to him on the couch and grabbed the remote. “Fine.” No point in bringing up that subject if I could get away with it.

I clicked on the TV and heard thumping on the stairs. “Hey, it’s my man!” Kou-dad appeared and came over for a fist bump. “Daaaaad, you know that’s only cool if you’re in middle school!” I did it anyway, and he smiled back.

“Oh, right, Code Geass is rebroadcasting! There was something about that on twitter!” Kou-dad must have flipped the channel and forgot to change it back. I didn’t know it on at this time of day! It even looked like the final episode!!

“Move, dad!” It was really getting to the good part, and he was walking right in front of the TV! Still, I grabbed some of the cucumber sticks with miso off the plate he set down on the table as he walked by. Kou-dad had his own plate on the far side of the couch, but I left one cucumber stick on mine for Kei-dad. He always said one was enough, since he liked sweet things more than salty.

Finally, the closing song of the series started playing. We’d seen it this episode before, but the song always made me feel a little emotional, I think cause of how Kou-dad had reacted when we first watched it. He definitely cried when it was showing what all the characters were doing after the war was over. Kei-dad still jokingly made fun of him for it sometimes.

“Hey, Jeremiah and Anya growing oranges reminds me of Kai-dad and Dad-Buki’s place, I never noticed that before. Do they have any orange trees?”

Kei-dad finished what he was typing and closed his laptop. “I don’t think so, but they could’ve put some in. Even so I doubt they’d be big enough to be growing oranges yet.”

“If they don’t, maybe they could get some!”

“Maybe. That reminds me, Kai said something about needing help picking something this weekend. Do you want to give him a call and check?”

“Sure.” Kou-dad got up and strolled into the kitchen to make the call.

I grabbed the cucumber plates and took them over to the sink and washed them off.

“Mmhm. Okay, yeah, that should work. We’ll see you then.”

“Dad, I was wondering if I could have a friend over this weekend? There’s a new game we’re dying to try playing together on the Switch.”

“Language!”

Ugh, Kei-dad was always telling me off for that! Literally everyone else says it like that, how come I’m not allowed to say anything about dying or killing?! Stupid. They’re just words.

Fine! “Okay, we REALLY REALLY WANT to try playing the game together! Is that okay?” We couldn’t wait another whole week! Everyone at school was gonna spoil it!

“If you’re keeping your grades up. And I hear your school counseling survey went out this week? Do you know what you’re going to put?”

Aw crap, how did he know?! That was the ONE thing I was hoping to slide under their noses this week. Now I had to try to decide whether to lie, or tell them what I ACTUALLY wanted to put. And I sucked at lying even more than I sucked at school.

“Would you believe me if I said my homeroom teacher told us those are old-fashioned and we don’t have to do them anymore?”

He tilted his head and gave me one of those side glances.

“Okay, okay, fine. I did get it. But…” Maybe Kou-dad would back me up here. He was always telling me to do my homework but make sure I had enough time for fun, too. “I… I was thinking maybe I wouldn’t apply. To high school. It’s just really not my thing, you know? l know you always make me sit down and work with me when you have time, Kei-dad, but my brain just doesn’t work like yours! I don’t LIKE looking at flashcards and memorizing stuff and writing it down.”

“Kaz…”

“All kinds of kids are putting down ‘Youtuber,’ dad. Do you have any idea how much money ajinshinchan and like, goodtimeswithscar make? Just because I don’t go to high school doesn’t mean I can’t make it. I can be a firefighter with Kou-dad, or work at a conbini or in construction or…”

“Kazuki.”

Kou-dad almost never used my full name. That shut me up pretty quick.

“I know you think Kei is always being demanding of you getting good grades and doing well in school, but going to high school really is a big deal. And it’s not even just to take tests and think about college. If you were working, would you have time to see your friends?”

“Yeah, I…”

“How about the big school trip? When you talk to people or watch TV shows where they all go as a group, don’t you think you’d feel sad that you didn’t get to do that? And wear a high school uniform, and be in a club, and work with your classmates on whatever idea you come up with for the culture festival?”

Maybe it was cause we had just finished the Code Geass episode, but it looked like Kou-dad was getting tears in his eyes. He must be really serious about this. I had expected Kei-dad to be against the idea, but I had figured Kou-dad would at least laugh through it with me.

“You know Kou didn’t attend high school at all, right?” Kei-dad’s voice was soft.

“Well, yeah, but…”

Still soft but getting right back to matter-of-fact as usual, Kei-dad said, “It’s decided, then? Bring your counseling sheet here, we can fill it out together. The public high school here is decent, so as long as you put in an application, you should get in, plus most of your friends will go there. Hm, any private schools nearby that…”

Uuuuurghhhgghhh… Fine, whatever. I dug through my backpack and uncrumpled the survey. “You wanna fill it out for me?”

I got one of those looks again. Kei-dad handed me a pen and told me the name of the public high school. He didn’t make me fill in the second and third option, though. I’d write in Youtuber and Firefighter later.

“Kai said if we could come pick beans Sunday morning, it’d be a big help.”

“I'm on shift at the hospital until 6 am, but we can go any time after that.”

“Any hand we can lend would be appreciated. So anyway,” said Kou-dad, jokingly. “What’s this video game you’d give an arm and a leg to try playing this weekend?”

“Not you too! Urgh…” Kei-dad rolled his eyes.

Kou-dad and I knew he didn’t like us using those expressions, but he was too much fun to make fun of for us to stop. He was a good sport putting up with us. Plus, I think he liked that we thought it was funny. And what are families for if you don’t annoy each other a little!

#ajinweek22 #Ajin #Ajin fanfiction #Kazuki

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

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A Different Kind of Night (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Is the Grammys! And you’re spending it at home with your handsome nominee.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of alcohol, COVID, anxiety and a bit of smut if you squint your eyes. Also, maybe some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language. I’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.6 k

Author’s Note: let me start by saying that 1) the Grammys are rigged and I don’t trust them. 2) I haven’t seen the Grammys in years so I don’t know exactly how the awards go and 3) While this is a piece of fiction, I love Harry and I hope he brings home one golden record player 💕 Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedbacks and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much it helps me ❤️ Happy early Valentine’s Day. Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

“Harry, did you get the drinks?” You asked as you walked down the stairs.

“Go’em ready in the living room, love” Your boyfriend's answer came from the kitchen, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he made his way to where you were fixing your hair at the end of the stairs.

The moment he saw you, all dressed up and giddy, he let out a loud whistle. You felt your cheeks turn a tinted red as you felt his eyes checking you out up and down.

“Well look at you, pet,” He said with a grin as he walked towards you, rounding his arm on your waist and pulling you closer to him “You look stunning”

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you giggle as his stubble tickled your skin.

“I wanted to look good tonight,” You said with a shy smile “Even if no one is going to see me”

Harry hummed close to your ear “Lucky me, then. Don’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me”

You scoffed “As if that were possible” With one last kiss on his cheek, you started to walk away. But not before Harry stole one small squeeze to your butt, making you gasp and shoot him a knowing glance as you turned into the kitchen, still able to hear him laugh.

You stepped into the kitchen and made sure the finger food you ordered was ready and placed in the tray. You wanted to make tonight extra special for him despite everything that was going on.

After pushing it back a few dates, the Grammys were finally happening tonight. Given the circumstances though, they were being held in an empty theatre while all the nominees stayed home and watched the ceremony.

Upon hearing the news, Harry was understandably a bit bummed out, but then he thought better of it “At least I’ll get to spend the evening with you” He said with a grin.

It was true. If it weren’t for the norms applied for the ceremony, you weren’t going to be able to celebrate with him. At least, not at that moment. That’s the downside of having a secret relationship.

You were used to it, though. Years of sneaking around and secret rendezvous made you an expert on the topic of privacy. It was something you both agreed on earlier on in the relationship, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention towards the two of you.

And yes, although that meant to have to deal with all the rumors of your boyfriend dating other celebrities and see him up and about in different galas where you had to maintain your distance until you were sure there were no peeking cameras, you wouldn’t change this for the world.

You loved Harry Styles as much as the next person did. But you much rather have Harry, just Harry all to yourself. And that made you one of the luckiest people on earth according to you.

“It’s weird to see the red carpet so empty,” You said as you walked into the living room holding the tray of food. Smiling at seeing Harry already seated comfortably with a glass of wine having already poured you a glass as well.

“Pfft. It’s boring anyway” He said, helping you set the food before you sat down with him, kicking your shoes under the table and cuddling next to him “You just walk, then stop to take some pictures, then talk to some random interviewer for a random channel, say you’re excited to be there and to be wearing Gucci and keep walking”

“Oh yeah, sounds dreadful” Sarcasm clear in your voice “I don’t know how you could survive that”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it your way, making you squeal before you retaliated with some salted peanuts, starting a small but very chaotic food fight among the two of you.

You were glad that it was only the two of you. While Harry’s manager offered to make a big celebration in his name for being nominated, he opted not to. Not only because he already received well-deserved repercussions for partying in the middle of a pandemic, but because this was a special moment for him and, even though he won’t admit it, he is scared of letting everyone down if he doesn’t get the win.

You, however, still wanted to make the night special for him. So you suggested you dress up for the red carpet- even if the only carpet you’d walk on is the one in the living room, get drunk and let whatever needs to happen: happen.

He loved the idea, although now he was starting to have second thoughts “‘m not gonna clean this” He said after taking into account the mess you both created.

Popcorn was scattered across the sofa and the rug, he had some pieces of peanuts tangled in his curls and on his suit. You didn’t want to look in the mirror to check how you ended up.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who started it,” You said, shrugging as you took a sip from your wine.

He crooked one eyebrow at you, ready to make his usual teasing comments known. But just as he opened his mouth, the opening number of the ceremony was starting.

The Grammys were broadcasted on tv, but all the nominees had a link where they should enter the moment their category is announced. Harry got it all set up in the living room, the computer and the camera ready to focus on him when needed. Yes, this was odd, everything was odd in these trying times. But you were glad they managed to pull through it and celebrate the artists like they deserve, even if it’s miles apart for their safety.

You enjoyed the first few numbers, chatting over your bets about who will win what category, yelling at the tv whenever your favorites didn’t receive the golden record player, and laughing at the bad jokes of the presenters.

When the pop categories came, however, the both of you were quiet as a mouse.

You knew Harry was nervous, you’ve never seen him fidgeting this much before. You gave him your hand to hold, to distract himself a little bit and for him to feel your unconditional support, and he squeezed it hard, placing a kiss on your knuckles and patting it softly with his other hand before covering it with it as his leg started moving up and down with a quick pace.

This side of him always surprised you. You were still amazed at how confident Harry was on stage and with people from the industry, yet when it was just the two of you, you could see the real him. The doubts, the second-guessing, the frustrations, the fears, and sadness of a real person. Not from the one that’s putting on a show to please strangers in a room. With you he allowed himself to feel, really feel like he couldn’t do outside the doors of your shared home. And you knew these nominations were eating him up from the inside with the anxiety it produced on him.

Harry was a perfectionist. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was sixteen, having the responsibility and burden to carry it without a word of complaint. He gave himself out on this album, showing parts of himself his fans would appreciate and accept. The pressure he had was unbearable and he still made it out of bed every morning, ready to give the world more than it could ever ask for.

You were proud of him, you always were and you told him time and time again, knowing he appreciated more than he could say. But sometimes you wished you could take him away for some time, letting him relax and breathe without constantly having to check himself if he did a wrong move or not. If he wins tonight, at least he will know it was all worth it.

The first two nominations were called. You could feel how hard he gripped your hand before he was asked to appear in front of the camera he set up in front of him. He tried to appear unbothered, but only you noticed the way his eyes gleamed with a shimmer of hope.

Harry waved at the camera and politely nodded whenever his name was being announced with his leg bouncing out of frame. But when the presenters called another name, he was the one clapping enthusiastically as his other colleagues received the acclaimed award. Never letting his true feelings show on his face.

You never asked if he was okay after he didn’t win, you knew he would say he is and brush it off like it was nothing. But you also knew that he needed your support at this moment and you gave it freely and lovingly. Cuddling next to him and soothing his hair as he let your hand run through his curls. It was the little moments, the details that let him know that he is loved. And he feels so lucky to be loved by you.

He told you time and time again and proved it to you thousand times more. But every time he said it, every time he showed it… it still brought butterflies to your entire being.

“Okay, love,” He said as soon as they cut through commercials for what it seemed like the tenth time “The album category is up next”

He said that with a serious face. You could tell that he was nervous, it was the most important award in the pop category; he had some strong contenders this year and was not at all convinced that he would win, especially given his other two losses.

You were about to say something, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and shake that mental frown away. But a notification rang on the computer, letting him know that it was time to get online and let people see him as he waited to be called.

He looked at you and smiled, letting you know that he was okay. “It’s just a stupid award,” He said, but you knew it meant more than that.

You smiled understandingly back at him and kissed him on the cheek before getting up to stand in front of the tv but behind the camera as you did in his previous nominations of the night, making it seem like he was alone.

“You got this” You mouthed at him from where you were standing, sending him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. He replied with a wink and his award-winning smirk as the announcer called his name among the nominees.

Harry waved at the camera and you can already see his name trending on Twitter right now, it’s been too long since his fans have seen him up close and he knew very well what he was doing. That smug bastard.

While the presenter was calling the other nominees, your phone rang. You quickly grabbed it from the table and thanked the gods’ Harry’s vídeo was muted for the time being.

“Hello?” You said quietly, not really paying attention at the name of the caller before you picked up.

Harry had his eyes on the camera, but he furrowed his eyebrows to let you know that he was just as curious as you to know who was calling at this time and at this moment.

“You need to open the door, now!” It was Jeff’s voice. He sounded frantic as he hung up immediately after.

You stood there confused for a second before realizing what was happening.

“And the winner for best pop vocal album is…. Harry Styles’ Fine Line!”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard his name being called as the winner. He started looking around for you, but you were now gone from your spot only to return seconds later with a golden record player in your hands and tearful eyes.

You were now standing at his side, face away from the camera as the viewers could only see your arms extending the award towards Harry, who had the most beautiful and genuine smile you’ve ever seen.

He took the award and threw it on the sofa next to him, quickly standing enough to reach your face and giving you a one in a lifetime kiss. Not caring that he was on national television at the moment. He was happy.

You felt how his hands cupped your cheek softly as his lips melted with yours. It tasted salty and you didn’t know if it was because of the popcorn or the happy tears on both your eyes. You only knew that this was one of the greatest moments of his life and you were lucky enough to witness it with him.

Soon, Harry had to let go of you, smiling widely at you and mouthing an “I love you” as he sat back down to start his speech. You quickly went back to your place behind the camera and smiled at him with utter pride.

You knew how much he worked for this, to separate himself from the kid he once was and to start his own career by just being Harry. And to see him smile like that… Harry only smiled like that when he was with you. His childlike grin and sparkle in his eyes brought life to your shared home as he held the award close to his heart, finally grasping the idea that that little boy from Cheshire made it.

He made it.

“... I want to thank my mum and my sister, who were always there for me. To the fans that made this record so special and have gifted me with their enormous support. And I want to thank the person I love most in this life” He said, lifting his gaze to meet your teary eyes. He smiled like a thousand suns and gave you a look that was just exuberant with love before placing his eyes back on the camera. “I love you and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for this”

You waited a good five seconds after his transmission ended before jumping at him on the sofa, wrapping your arms around him as you plastered kisses all over his face.

“I told you you were going to win!” You said excitedly.

He laughed and kiss your lips with passion “You did” He said between kisses “And I didn’t believe you” one more kiss “If this is not a sign for me to admit that you’re always right, I don’t know what it is”

You smiled before kissing him again, this time with more intent as you let him deepen the kiss, parting your lips as you granted him more access.

Harry grabbed you by the legs and made you straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss once as his hands roamed your back with soft touches.

“You know…” You said, letting out a sigh as his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck “You just kissed me in front of a camera”

He hummed, sending vibrations all over your pulse point “That I did”

“It’s going to be all over Twitter tomorrow”

“I don’t much care right now,” He said, placing his hands on your ass, making your hips slightly buckle against his front as he continued to ravish your neck and collarbones, leaving a trail of marks and soft breaths to follow later.

You chuckled, tangling your fingers through his hair, tugging it lightly so his eyes were on yours once again “Harry, you just won a Grammy!”

“That I did, too” He smirked, pure joy visible in his eyes.

“And how would you want to celebrate? My Grammy award winning boyfriend” You said, moving your hips with more intent and making him let out a groan.

Harry’s pupils grew and turned his eyes into a deep forest green, looking at you hungrily while he grinned “I got a couple of ideas”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @multistann @tenaciousperfectionunknown @sunflowercherry

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carelessannie · 4 years ago

Text

Winterspider, Peter x Bucky, omegaverse, smut, nff, other specific warnings in the tags

For this prompt from @femmeparker

Me: let’s do this, but something kinda different

❤️❤️❤️ I love these two honestly Hope you enjoy!

- - -

There’s not much on the TV. Someone made the mistake of giving Steve the remote, and now everyone is subject to watching each channel fly by at an alarming rate, the only constant sound in the room the rhythmic clicking of the next channel button. None of them complain, though. It’s very rare that they all have a quiet night together, and everyone seems content to watch Steve surf the cable box.

The six of them are spread around Tony’s living room. Pizza is already gone and at any moment Tony or Nat will take away the remote and turn on a movie, but Bucky could care less. He usually sits back and watches from the outside, anyways. He looks over at Bruce, and they share a knowing glance— both of them happy to stay quiet and let the others take the lead.

He could go for a drink, though. Bucky ambles to his feet, offering to grab stuff from the kitchen as he heads there. With his head in the fridge, he sorts through the drink options, gagging dramatically at the thought of one of the fruity wine coolers Tony has tons of. He looks at the bottle, scoffing at the ingredients and alcohol content. Four percent? Why even bother?

“Those are mine,” a sweet voice chirps, and Bucky smacks his head trying to turn around.

“Ow, fu—” Bucky lets the curse die on his tongue as he gets an eyeful of the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, swamped in a university sweatshirt and wearing a playful smirk. He holds out his hand, expectantly, and Bucky stares at it, unsure of what this angel wants.

Deciding to play it safe, he shakes the boy’s hand.

“Bucky,” he says, like an idiot.

The boy just giggles, tightening his grip and tossing his unruly curls, “Peter. And honestly, I just wanted you to hand me a drink— but it’s nice to meet you. I feel like since I’ve been at college, I haven’t been able to meet any of my dad’s friends,” he pauses, giving Bucky an obvious once over, “and I think I would have remembered you.”

Bucky knows his face is glowing red. He clears his throat and pops the top on the fruity drink, handing it over to Peter, “And your dad is?”

Peter takes a sip, “Tony Stark. I guess it makes sense he didn’t mention me.”

Oh, he did. Bucky— like the fool he apparently is— just didn’t realize Tony’s son is only a few years younger than Bucky himself. And drop dead gorgeous. Definitely a no fly zone for ex-assassin, centenarian soldiers with war trauma.

He backs up, heading towards the living room in a hasty retreat, when the air suddenly shifts, catching Peter’s scent, and throwing it in Bucky’s face.

“Oh, shit,” this time he does curse, smacking into the wall as he holds his nose, politely stopping himself from smelling the ripe Omega scent beckoning him closer. “I’m so sorry, fuck, I didn’t realize...”

Peter takes a step closer, placing his drink on the counter. He has Bucky cornered against the wall, and the Alpha has never felt more terrified.

“Shh, it’s okay,” the tiny Omega whispers, no doubt getting a nose-full of Bucky’s fear scent, “you’re not gonna hurt me.”

He watches, helplessly, as Peter steps into his space, his maple-honey gaze wide and pleading. The young Omega wraps himself in Bucky’s arms, burying his nose in Bucky’s chest, and starts to purr deep, soft breaths that shake Bucky to his core.

Not heat— no, not quite— but something very close is burning through Peter’s small body. Bucky realizes he’s supporting almost all of Peter’s slight weight, and searches for a chair. There is no way he’s carrying Peter out into the living room like this.

He must black out for a moment, because the next time he’s aware, it’s pitch black and Bucky’s sitting on the floor, still clutching the Omega to his chest. He looks around, hoping to catch sight of something familiar. Rice. Flour, sugar, Raisin Bran— great. Of course his Alpha instincts would not only den them up, but put them in the pantry. Stupid, practical hindbrain.

There’s movement outside, and Bucky growls, low and menacing in his throat.

“Buck? Are you in there?”

It’s Steve. Another Alpha. Best friend. Threat.

“What?” Bucky snarls, running his fingers through Peter’s hair comfortingly.

Silence for a beat, “Do you... Tony thinks you have his son in there, Bucky. Please tell me that’s not true.”

“He’s safe, Steve.”

The other Alpha curses under his breath, “Dammit, Buck. Okay, let me grab Tony. He’s gonna help.”

Bucky wants to protest, but the Omega in his arms has started gently nibbling on his fingers, holding his hand and sucking on them lightly. He hums his approval, and Peter just smiles sweetly, never once opening his eyes.

“James Barnes, do you have my son in there?”

Tony sounds strained, trying to keep his tone neutral as he paces in front of the door.

“He’s safe in here, Tony.”

“Can you give him back to me, Alpha?” Tony asks, a hint of panic coming through his tone. “He’s unbonded and needs his pack.”

Bucky whines, looking down to memorize Peter’s features in the low light. It’s safe in here, warm and dark and full of food, but Bucky’s instincts insist Peter will be safest with his pack. Dammit.

He stands up, hauling Peter into a princess carry, and slowly opens the door, checking for threats. Tony stands on the other side of the room. His hands are tightly clenched around the countertop, and his face is riddled with worry. Bucky walks slowly to his side, and drops Peter into his waiting arms.

Without the Omega in his grasp, Bucky is suddenly on the verge of tears. Peter whimpers, a painfully sad sound, and Bucky has to retreat before he does something to make this worse. “M’sorry,” he rasps, and turns to head for the door, passing the group of Avengers on the way. Steve tries to lay a comforting hand on his back, but Bucky just brushes it off.

He rifles around the living room, grabbing his phone and wallet, and then heads for the door. As he’s slipping his shoes back on, he feels a painful tug in his chest. Then there’s a loud sob from the kitchen. Bucky’s stuck, frozen, with one arm in his jacket as he listens for more.

A small wheezing noise. Urgent whispers. Bucky’s on his knees. Another sob. Quiet pleading and begging. Bucky curls up against the door, feeling his stomach cramp up. Footsteps approach.

“... don’t think he could’ve gotten far— oh! Barnes, what the hell?”

He barely glances at Clint, “... couldn’t... leave,” Bucky breathes out, groaning as another wave of pain clenches in his gut, tight in his chest.

Bucky’s not sure how long he stays pressed up against the front door. He hears voices around him, but can’t understand them. There’s someone pulling on his arm and picking him up. He tries to protest— they can’t take him away— but suddenly there’s a weight in his arms, warmth against his body, and his nose is firmly pressed into the top of his Omega’s head.

Thank god.

He rolls them slightly, pressing Peter up against the soft wall and hiding him from unwanted gazes. He closes his eyes, letting the comfort of his Omega close by lull him to sleep.

- - -

When he comes to, it’s light outside. Peter is snoring gently in his arms, and Bucky’s head is clear. He sits up, taking in his surroundings. He’s in Tony’s living room and sitting on the largest couch, hovering over Peter’s still sleeping form.

“He imprinted on you, Bucky,” a voice behind him, Tony’s voice behind him, breaks the silence. He turns reluctantly to face the man, an apology already on his tongue.

“Save it,” Tony says instead, drinking from a coffee mug absently, “god knows why, but my kid, my only fucking son, chose you as his Alpha yesterday. I don’t get it. How did you even meet? Temporary mating bonds usually take weeks to form— but yours formed overnight.”

Bucky is speechless, so Tony rambles on, “That is what this is, right? Maybe scent compatibility, maybe his oncoming heat, but my Petey chose the world’s most deadly and unstable Alpha to imprint on. Not only that, but you had to go den him away— basically confirming your side of the bond in the process. You’re a fool, James. Actually, I’m a fool. Thinking you could be trusted—”

“Stop it, Dad,” Peter’s small voice interrupts, and the tiny Omega wiggles out from behind Bucky to stare down his father, “s’my choice. I want Bucky.”

“But why?” Both Bucky and Tony ask, in unison.

Peter just hums, looking up at Bucky with his precious doe-eyes, “Dunno,” he murmurs, addressing his dad while holding Bucky’s gaze, “He feels safe, Dad. His scent is different... calm and gentle.”

“Dammit,” Tony hisses, never taking his eyes off the pair, even as Bucky sways closer, enchanted by the perfect Omega pressed into his side.

“You sure, angel? You could have anyone, any Alpha you want would be head over heels to be with you.”

“Are you?” Peter asks, slotting his delicate thumb into the dimple on Bucky’s chin, tilting his head in a sweet, curious gesture.

“Am I...”

“Are you head over heels to be with me?” he smirks, but Bucky can see a sliver of vulnerable uncertainty in his eyes. His hands are still on Bucky’s face, and the bigger Alpha turns, pulling Peter to sit across his lap. He threads his fingers through pretty amber curls, smiling as Peter’s lashes flutter and tremble.

“More than anything— you’re already more precious to me than a hundred years could prepare me for.”

“Then let me choose,” Peter insists, twisting to look back at Tony, “please, Dad. Let me choose?”

Tony looks like he just ate a whole lemon, face twisted and body rigid in carefully controlled anger. Bucky gets it. He would never have dreamed of mating his friend’s son, but now— now that Peter has claimed him and invited him to stay— there is absolutely nothing that will separate them.

“Under no circumstances will he get pregnant, do you understand, Barnes?”

Bucky nods, but Peter fucking mewls, squirming on Bucky’s lap as arousal pours off of him in waves. The Alpha looks to Tony for help, terrified of the Omega slipping into heat in his arms.

“— fuck, no. Of course. Of fucking course,” Tony jumps to his feet, making his way down the hallway, “bring him with you— c’mon, Barnes. Hurry.”

With Peter cradled against his shoulder, Bucky runs, following Tony down the hall and into a bedroom. Tony’s bedroom, by the looks of it. The older man pulls out a tote bag, throwing it at Bucky, “Take inventory. I’ll be back in thirty-five seconds. Do not touch him.”

As Tony sprints from the room, Bucky upends the bag on the bed, keeping one arm around Peter as he sorts through the contents. Damn, this is the most thorough heat kit he’s ever seen. As he takes stock of meal supplements, electrolyte tabs, compresses, an embarrassing amount of toys and plugs, lotion and lube and even a few bath bombs, Bucky has a realization.

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t curse around my son,” Tony quips, tearing back into the room and tossing a small packet to Bucky, “these are his contraceptives. He takes one every morning, so set an alarm, do what you need to do— he’s not missing that.”

“Tony...”

“Also, you had better wrap it up. Alpha condoms are in the bag— we’re not taking a chance with your super soldier swimmers.”

“Tony,”

“— what?”

“... are you an Omega?”

There’s a moment where Bucky feels like he’s overstepped, “I just mean... I’ve never seen a heat bag so thoroughly stocked, even by a parent...”

Tony brings over a few of Peter’s clothes, shoving them in the bag, and laying a protective hand over Peter’s head. His eyes are steel when they look into Bucky’s, “Yes. Not a lot of people know that. I take high functioning suppressants, so I haven’t had a heat in years— not since I was pregnant with Peter. So you’ll understand if I’m a bit protective of my child, James.”

Bucky just reaches out, taking the bag from Tony, “You know I won’t tell a soul. The two of you are safe with me, Tony.”

Tony whips around and yanks him close, holding the collar of his jacket for leverage, “If you’re lying, you won’t be safe from me, Barnes.”

With one last, scalding look, Tony steps back and lets Bucky sweep his son away. Bucky shoulders the bag, heaves Peter into his arms, and runs out of the mansion, suddenly urgent to get them back to his den. There’s a car waiting, and Bucky settles them in the back seat, holding Peter close as they speed back to his apartment.

He’s so thankful for his own place. Living with Steve had been fine, but after a while, they realized that as Alphas, they desperately need their own territories. So Bucky bought an apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully only a twenty minute drive from Tony’s house.

It’s hard to pay attention, though, when the most alluring Omega is settled on his lap, pawing desperately at his pants and mouthing at his neck. He smells sickly sweet: caramel apples and funnel cakes with sugar and sprinkle-dipped ice cream cones all in one feverish body. Bucky rolls down the window.

When they arrive, Bucky hastily thanks the driver and heads right for his den, locking the doors and windows before settling Peter on his bed. He quickly unpacks the heat kit and fills a pitcher with water, letting Peter wake up and explore his space.

He almost drops the pitcher when he walks back into the den. Peter’s university sweatshirt and pants and pretty lace panties are all in a pile on Bucky’s floor, and damn do they look good there. His Omega is grinding, languid, on his bed sheets. His skin is flush and soft grunts escape his cherry lips as his hips move, flexing between an inviting presentation and a perfect bow of submission.

“Omega,” Bucky growls, causing Peter to freeze and look over his shoulder. His eyes are dark, needy and wild. “Look atcha, angel. So pretty ‘n desperate for me.”

Peter arches his back higher, showing off his perfect ass and pretty pink holes, “All for you, Bucky.”

Bucky makes sure to set the water pitcher down near the bed and grab condoms before climbing up next to Peter, kissing his flank and slowly stripping layers off. As he crawls to the headboard, Peter lifts his head up and pushes up onto his hands, tilting his chin up for a kiss. Bucky chuckles, more than happy to oblige.

It’s sweet, just like Peter’s heat scent. Bucky would be happy to drown in his Omega’s kisses and fade away in his arms. Peter's lips move slowly, tongue flicking out and tasting every so often as Bucky sits against the headboard, settling Peter in his lap.

They both groan. Peter’s tiny cock is straining against Bucky’s belly, snuggled smooth and wet against Bucky’s own length as they rut together, enjoying the dull pleasure and saccharine kisses.

“Touch me, Alpha,” Peter begs into Bucky’s throat, nibbling lightly and flexing his smaller fingers against Bucky’s hips.

Bucky sits up taller and uses both hands to part Peter’s supple cheeks from behind, slipping a few fingers underneath to trace along his delicate folds, scooping up a bit of the sweet slick he finds there.

“Open up, darling,” he murmurs, giving Peter a peck on the cheek as a reward when his Omega drops his jaw, mouth hanging open and tongue sticking out obediently. Without pause, Bucky shoves his fingers deep into Peter’s mouth, letting the Omega taste himself. Peter looks shocked, but sucks on Bucky’s fingers anyways. The inside of his mouth is scorching hot and velvety— tempting in a way that they do not have time for right now.

When he slips his fingers free, a slur of pleading and begging falls from Peter’s lips, urging Bucky on and ramping up his own aroused heat scent.

Bucky hitches Peter up further on his waist, sucking a swollen nipple into his mouth as he eases two fingers into Peter’s dripping entrance.

“Ho-oh-ly mother of shit, Bucky, please please... mm, need more. Please, more. Alpha!” Peter yelps as Bucky bites down, hard, on his nipple, using the distraction to work a third finger inside his Omega. He pumps them in and out, bouncing Peter on his hand. He shifts Peter’s weight, lifts him high, and uses his left hand to reach down and thumb at the throbbing clit he knows is just behind Peter’s tiny balls.

His mate screams, “Alpha!” and clenches down, coming violently while speared unforgivingly between Bucky’s hands. Clear, thick release spills from Peter’s cock, and Bucky leans down to suck it into his mouth, never stopping his assault on Peter’s sweet spots. He tastes absolutely divine, and Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head. Peter yanks on his hair, panting and wheezing as he trembles, thighs quaking around Bucky’s head.

“Bucky! Oh, oh oh oh,” Peter chants in between breaths, and Bucky jerks in surprise as his mouth is flooded, again, with his Omega’s cum. He strains to look up, to try and see Peter’s face as he comes apart a second time. Bucky swallows every drop and slowly lowers Peter to the bed. His pretty mate is still twitching, breathing hard, and is now staring at Bucky in shock.

Bucky crawls forward, leaning over his small mate, “Didja find nirvana, angel?” he asks, leaning down for a kiss.

Peter barely returns it, sighing happily into Bucky’s mouth, “Yes, Alpha.” His mouth suddenly pulls into a pout, and he turns sad, wide eyes to look at Bucky.

“What’s wrong,” Bucky panics, running his fingers lightly over Peter’s skin, searching for injury and making the Omega giggle and squeal, “what is it, angel?”

“You’re... you’re still gonna knot me, right?”

Oh. Bucky throws back his head to laugh, tossing Peter onto his front and lining up his straining cock, “You think you’re ready for this, sweetheart? You ever taken an Alpha cock in this pretty pussy?” he lets the tip tease in between Peter’s intimate lips, listening to his Omega wheeze below him.

“No, no no, not n’Alpha cock, Bucky please. Fill me up, fu-fuck me, Alpha.”

Bucky groans, “Damn, you sound so pretty with those dirty words in your mouth. So pretty begging for my cock.”

His Omega keeps begging, arching his back and wiggling his ass in the air as Bucky slips on a condom, kneeling behind his mate and lining up. God, Omegas are so pretty from behind— perfect pink holes are glistening wet, and the tiny cock and balls are just the cherry on top. So precious. Untouched and innocent.

“Take a deep breath, angel. It’s gonna be a stretch,” he waits until Peter obeys before pushing forward, inch by inch, into the hot, wet clutch of Peter’s body. Holy shit. Bucky falls forward, panting into his Omega’s neck as he bottoms out. This is heaven.

When Peter gives him the go ahead he starts a steady pace, withdrawing fully before slamming home in one, strong thrust. Peter yelps, tearing through the sheets, and Bucky just smirks, fucking into him with renewed urgency.

He tangles their fingers together in the remains of the torn sheets. Peter meets each and every thrust, cursing and desperate, lost to his heat as he’s split open on Bucky’s cock.

Then Bucky feels it, feels his knot expanding— bumping up against Peter’s entrance and catching on the flexible skin— and feels his orgasm build, deep in his gut.

“Gonna... oh fuck, Peter, angel. Gonna come. Holy shit, gonna knot you up so good, getcha stuck on me, baby. Fill you up, all nice’n full. Shit.”

He knows there’s a litany of profane promises spilling from his tongue, but he could care less as Peter flutters around him, shouting, “Alpha, oh!” as he comes for the third time. The passage around Bucky’s cock is suddenly slicker, sloppy wet, and he realizes what happened.

“Damn baby, I think you squirted on my cock. Fuck, that’s hot, oh. Oh my god. I’m coming, Peter. Fuck, Peter—”

His instincts wash over him, forcing him to rut until his knot is locked inside Peter’s still soft, still trembling body. He wants to bite, to claim, and sinks his teeth into his own bicep, growling deep as his cock is milked through a gut wrenching orgasm. His eyes roll back when Peter clenches down, and he can’t stop coming.

Peter wiggles around, shifting the intimate lock of their bodies and causing both of them to groan. “You’re heavy, Alpha,” he whines, clenching down again.

“Mercy, darling— fuck.” Bucky shivers as a smaller wave of pleasure blinds him, and he flops onto his side, pulling Peter along with him and tangling their legs together.

“How long, Alpha?” Peter mumbles, yawning gently and turning his neck to look back at Bucky sleepily.

“Bout half’n hour. We can rest until then.”

Peter just hums, content to rest in his Alpha’s arms.

Later, they’ll talk. They’ll learn middle names and talk about their favorite colors and dream of a future together. Bucky will watch him go off to college, and Peter will watch Bucky go off to battle.

Until then, Bucky looks down at his dozing mate. He has absolutely no idea where this perfect Omega came from, or why he would be lucky enough to mate him, to knot him, to possibly love him. But Bucky decides not to care.

With a warm Omega in his arms, smiling and squirming on his knot, Bucky will take whatever Peter is willing to give, and return it with as much of himself as possible.

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azuregiggles · 4 years ago

Text

The Bold and The Honk: Ler!George Lee!Karl

With a brief Ler!Quackity, Ler!Dream and Ler!SapNap

ALL PLATONIC

Author Notes: Sorry this took a bit longer than I thought it would! But it's finally here!!!

Words: 3314

WARNINGS: Swearing, I think that's it let me know if you think something else should be a warning.

SUMMARY: George is in a rather big Ler mood and is desperate to wreck someone. Lucky for him there are four others in the Feral household and so his search for a lee begins.

It was a rather ordinary day in the feral boys household each man was doing something rather independently. Dream was taking his fifth nap of the day though it was only noon. SapNap was editing in his office. Quackity was practicing making a few different dishes for a cooking stream they all had planned for later in the week and Karl was assisting him. That left George.

He was supposed to be working on his most recent video for his seemingly neglected YouTube channel but he just couldn’t get up the momentum he needed in order to focus. His mind was far too busy putting him in a very interesting mood. He watched his own fingers tap away at the keys and couldn’t help but imagine the squeaks and giggles it would make rather than its ‘click clack’ if it were a person beneath his fingers instead.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers running through his already messy hair. This only made him think of Karl and how he’d melt if someone lightly scratched his head. A fond smile crossed his lips. Living among the four other men he’d grown accustomed to the various and constant forms of affection. If any of them wanted a specific affection such as to cuddle there was always another Feral around to ensure they were helped and happy.

Gogy’s mind wandered back to tickling and how much it meant to the five of them. If ever one of them was in need of cheering up or just a smile this was a much favored method to get the crew back into a chipper mindset. Occasionally one of them would even ask to be on the receiving end and the friends would oblige with no questions. George was in the opposite mood however. He wanted to be on the giving end of things right now. He felt as though he needed it.

George was rarely one to be in a lee mood. He was often neutral until one of the others was under attack, then he’d join the offensive. Right now though, he was far from neutral, he was completely in a ler mood and ready to wreck someone. He trudged his way down the hall to Dream’s room and poked his head in the door. The green hooded man had clearly just woken up, his hair was tousled and his eyes were struggling to stay open. George tapped lightly on the door. Looking up Dream groaned jokingly “Ewwww what do you want?”

“I need you to help me with a certain mood I’m in?”

“What mood exactly?”

George stepped into the room until he was next to Dream “I’m in a ler mood and I really wanna tickle someone. You’ll help me right, Dreamy?” He poked his friend in the side.

“Absolutely nahahat! I just woke up! Go awahay!” The green one giggled and gave George a playful shove towards the door. George moved over to him again and ruffled his already messy hair with a grin.

“Fine sleepyhead, but don’t come to me with your next lee mood. I won’t be nice about it.”

“Whatever just get outta here dumbass.” Dream chuckled, swatting the offending hand away.

George decided to leave and continue his search for his next victim. Next he checked with Sap who was content at his desk. He leaned over the man’s shoulder. “Saaappppp” he whined.

“Geeoorrrggggeeeee” Sapnap mockingly whined back. “What’s up Gogs?”

“Can you help meee?”

“With what? Be specific.” Sap chuckled, eyes on the screen. George placed his hands on the ravenette’s sides, who tensed and smiled.

“I wanna tickle someone, like wreck them.”

“I’m editing go tickle Dream!” He playfully swatted Gogy’s hands away.

“He’s just woken up and won’t let me.”

“Then try Quackity.”

“He’s cooking.”

“Then tickle Karl, you know he loves it.” Sap giggled and pushed his friend towards the door “We can’t all procrastinate Gogs, I need to finish this video.” The door closed on him, Sap had returned to editing.

Editing had its own kind of fun but nothing would entertain the streamer the way his friends’ reactions did. SapNap was the proudest of the bunch, always holding out on laughing for as long as possible and will deny any compliments till the bitter end. Would have been an excellent target.

Dream was a screamer, his constant wheezing and endless sass made him an interesting lee to say the least. He always claimed to hate being tickled but the word ‘stop’ seemed to leave his vocabulary at the smallest poke. Unfortunately he was still drowsy and as such off the list.

Quackity was an involuntary fighter, the kind you have to pin a bit if you don’t wanna get punched or kicked. His hysterical laughter is always filled with a sailor’s worth of swearing no matter how much fun he’s having. George didn’t feel like getting potentially injured though. Another lee bites the dust.

Karl, on the other hand, was pure gold. The most ticklish, easily flustered by compliments and teasing but also not too embarrassed to admit that he loves the affectionate bonding that was tickling. His laughter was always full of cute noises like hiccups and snorts. But above all, since he enjoyed it, he was the one of George’s friends who could last the longest. Perfect.

Sir Not Found made his way to the basement, the Feral Cave as they all called it. With large sofas for streaming console games together and a large kitchen for cooking streams like the one Quackity was currently preparing for. Karl was presently attempting to flip an omelet and failing miserably.

“Oi! It’s a wild Gogy! In my kitchen!? The fuck is this!?” Quackity announced George’s arrival.

“Hey George! Wanna watch me pop off? I’m the omelet flipping champion.” Karl boasted and Quack rolled his eyes.

“You’ve dropped that same egg blob like five times, good thing no ones gonna eat it, they’d die on the first bite.” Quack told him.

George, who hadn’t said a word, walked into the kitchen and behind Karl. He slipped his arms around his friend’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Uhhuh George?” Karl’s tone was nervous and giddy. “Everything okay?”

George decided not to beat around the bush “I’m in a terrible ler mood. Lemme tickle you?” He gently poised his hands on Karl’s sides.

Karl froze and his cheeks turned red “Wh-What? How can you just ask that?” The room was already filled with his nervous giggles. He tensed in George’s hold, anticipating an attack. “B-Besides I’m helping Quack right now.”

“Oooh Karl’s in trouble Gogy’s in his bold arc!” Quackity teased. “You can have him Gogs, he’s a terrible sous chef anyway!”

“Hey!” Karl protested.

“Pleeaaasssseee Karl?” George tightened his hold, effectively hugging the other man who slightly melted into his arms.

“Oh fu-honk, okay. Please just-“ he was cut off as he was promptly thrown over George’s shoulder and carried towards the couches. His sweater paws now covered his face. He let out a yelp as he was plopped onto the sofa.

“Damn Gogy, you’re down bad. Must be one hell of a ler mood. Karl you’re so fucked” Quackity called from across the room.

Karl was far too giggly to respond. He covered his face and squirmed as George sat on his waist. “I don’t know where this mood came from. I just really needed to wreck someone. I tried Sap but he’s editing and told me to ask Karl because Karl. Loves. Being. Tickled. So. So. Much.” If there were any doubt that Karl was blushing before there was no room for argument now, with each word George poked Karl in the ribs, sending him into a giggle fit full of squeaks as his face flushed red.

“Sahahap is duhuhumb.” Karl offered.

“Mm-hm, and you’re ticklish! Now where’s that adorable laughter Karl? Please don’t keep me waiting. Your face has gone red you’re like a raspberry!” George reminded him by tasering his sides, earning a squeal. “Any specific requests from our little web star i-Karlee?”

Karl was in tease hell. When did George come up with a nickname like that!? His blush began to spread up to his ears and he made a series of flustered sputters as he tried to form words. He shook his head no.

“So I can just go for it?”

Karl nodded.

“Do you want me to start slow or wreck you? Your face is getting darker, how cute! Is that red Quackity? I need help confirming since I’m colorblind” George wiggled his fingers in the air.

More sputters left Karl’s lips. When did Gogy get so good at teasing? “I-I do-don’t” he squealed again as his sides were tasered once more.

“That’s not an answer~”

“J-Juhuhust” Karl tried to think through his giggles. He would die if this teasing continued. Unsure if he could handle being wrecked immediately he chose what he thought was the safer option. “Slohohow fihihirst”

“Aww~ anything for you i-Karlee!” George started by lightly scratching along his friend’s lower belly.

“Nahahaha!” Karl covered his mouth and snorted.

“Oh~ how adorable, you sound just like techno! Do it again!” George scratched around Karl’s navel.

“George NOHO!” He squealed and kicked his legs out behind the ravenette above him. Trying his best to not snort again he grabbed a nearby pillow and used it to muffle the noise.

“Now now, don’t hide from me Karl. You’ll only make it worse~” he teased and pinched along Karl’s lower rib, just enough to make him let go of the pillow. Karl snorted again as George returned his attention to his navel.

“Oh? Does this little piggy have a ticklish button? This one here?” He poked his finger inside and wiggled it around.

A small cackle resounded from the brunette “NAHAHA dohohoHOHOnt!” He whined and squirmed left to right.

“I believe the rhyme goes whee whee whee whee all the way home Karl” wriggling digits spidered up Karls sides and ribs, right to his armpits. Arms snapped down as bubbly laughter filled the air. “Do you think this is a good home for them?”

“OHOHOUT! G-GEHEHET OUT! NOHOHAHAHA” Karl bucked up and down trying to wrench the attacking fingers from his hallows.

“I’d love to but it seems as though I’m stuck here. What am I to do Karl? You’ve trapped me.”

“SLOHOHOW DOHOHOWN” Karl pleaded and snorted once more his face scrunched.

“Alright but you’ll have to lift your arms if I do~” Gogy warned him but slowed down to give his friend a breather.

Very hesitant arms lifted to free George's hands. As promised Gogy removed his hands from Karl’s armpits and began scanning for his next target. Karl took deep breaths and closed his eyes as he giggled and rubbed away the phantom tickles.

“Would you like to play a little game i-Karlee?”

“Whahat kind ohohof game?” He blushed at the nickname.

“It’s simple really, you keep your arms up as I count your ribs. If you snort I start over, If you bring your arms down that’s ten seconds of tickling on your worst spot.”

“You’re evil”

“That’s not a no Karl~”

“Sh-shut up”

“Is that a yes?”

“I… I mean-... It’s more of a…”

“Arms uuup~ up, up ,up.” George coaxed him and smirked.

Karl’s arms betrayed him as he felt his head rest on his hands, his arms up and behind his head. He knew he’d never made it through this counting game before without his arms coming down. He knew it was a trap and yet he couldn’t help the anticipatory giggles that poured from his mouth.

“Wow you must be in a lee mood if you’re being this obligatory. I’m honored.”

Karl avoided eye contact, his blush returning.

“Awww~ I knew he’d be willing to help you George” Sapnap’s voice came from the kitchen where he was now helping Quackity clean. “Karl loves to be tickled.”

“Is that what all the noise is?” A still half-awake Dream fumbled down the stairs and flopped onto his beanbag chair that was just out of view of their stream setup. Karl’s hands moved back to covering his face.

“It certainly is Dream! He’s helping me with my Ler mood.” Gogy supplied.

“Aww~ How sweet of him. Oh my god, look at how red he is.” He scoffed, “Since he loves to be tickled so much it’s a win win. Having fun Karl?” Dream chuckled and watched the two from afar. The glint in his eye made Karl nervous again.

“Now where were we?” George returned his attention to a very flustered Jacobs “Ah yes~ Put those arms back up, please.”

A tiny squeak and the raising of arms was all Gogy needed to begin. He started at the top rib, knowing that, when it came to his ribs, Karl’s were more ticklish the lower they were. Karl gave a surprised squeal and began to wiggle around, his arms already threatened to drop.

“Oooonnneee~ stay still for me okay i-Karlee?”

“i-Karlee? Really George” Sap laughed “that’s so dumb.”

“Twooo~ such a pretty laugh”

“Karl seems to like it~” Quackity chimed in.

“Threeeee~! You’re changing color again. Is it magic?”

“Aww does little Jacobs love his new nickname?” Dream added to the verbal assault.

“SHUT THE HONK UP” Karl was losing it. All of his friends' teasing was getting to him far more than the actual tickling. “Plehehehease! You buhuhunch of nihihimrods! I’m gohohonna dihihiie”

“That’s not very nice Karl!” George smirked as he continued counting ribs silently “you should apologize~”

Karl shook his head no. He knew what he was getting into.

“Oh? Feeling sassy all of a sudden?”

“You gonna take that from a lee George?” Dream instigated, ignoring the slow rise of butterflies in his own stomach. The tickling stopped.

“What are you dohohoing?” Karl gave nervous glances to both of them. He’d expected to be wrecked, not ignored.

“Apologize or you’ll be punished” George told him.

“Try me” Karl taunted.

“Oh I’m not going to tickle you into apologizing, quite the opposite actually.”

“What? How does that-?”

“If you don’t apologize no one gets to tickle you for a week. Even if you ask.”

“That’s just evil Gogy you know Karl can’t go a day without a lee mood” Sapnap added.

“Holy shit, Gogy’s villain arc!? Ooohhh you better apologize Karl~” Quackity watched them with excitement.

“Well what’s it gonna be?” George looked at Karl again “say sorry and I’ll wreck you properly” wiggling fingers hovered over Karl’s lower ribs.

“O-okay I’m sorry.” Karl hid his face again “please tickle me” he squirmed in place. A flood of adoring comments from the other four men filled his ears. Karl’s face returned to a lovely shade of red as he sputtered and giggled.

“Aww he even said please, now you gotta ruin him good Gogs.” Quackity laughed.

“I intend to. You three help me a bit?” George ignored Karl’s giggly protests “don’t tickle him, just tease.”

The trio grinned and gathered around. Sapnap was behind Karl, arms around his waist. Dream was on his beanbag he’d dragged over beside the couch. Quackity was laying on the back of the sofa. George, in front of Karl, positioned his hands on the brunettes knees.

“Ready Karl?” George asked him in a teasy tone but wanted to make sure he wasn’t crossing a line.

Pulling his hood over his eyes, giggling frantically, Karl nodded. A shriek was caught in his laughter as it began. George kneaded the spot above each knee and scribbled beneath them whenever the chance arose. He grinned at the bubbly laughter filled the air, mixed with snorts and cackles. Now this was the kind of lee interaction he’d needed.

“Awwww, how cute your knees are so sensitive~” SapNap cooed directly into his ear.

“How is your laughter so sweet Karl. I literally don’t understand how it can be so endearing” Quackity chimed in from his perch. George was currently kneading Karl’s sides making the younger squeal in lighthearted protest. Tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks.

“Better not let the fans see you blush like this Karl~” Dream chuckled “They’d lose their shit. Imagine Karl can’t open social media without see everyone saying how adorable he is~”

Another shriek pierced the air as hands squeezed Karl’s hips on rapid fire. Karl leaned back into Sapnap to avoid bucking away from the touch. Sap chuckled and blew gently on his ears, not touching him but it tickled Karl just enough to make him scrunch up his shoulders and kick out his legs a bit.

All the while Dream and Quackity continued to ruffle Karl’s hair and showered him with teasing words and praise. “Aww was that a snort Karlos~”

“You look like you’re loving this Karl~”

Karl’s struggling car to a stop and he melted into the sofa and Sap’s embrace. His mind was really foggy but he knew he was happy. He felt safe even in moments like this because he knew his friends would never take it too far. Three people teasing as one wrecked him physically was a new but welcomed experience for the lee. After another couple of minutes the tickling was only a gentle skittering across his neck, making him melt as he caught his breath,

“I think I’m satisfied, how about you Karl? Did you get your fill?” George checked.

“Uhuhuh just ohohone more tihihing?” Karl giggled shyly.

A flood of awes filled the air, making him hide his face once again.

“And what would that be?~” George paused for an answer.

“R-Raspberries” A familiar heat arose to his features.Due to keeping his face in his sweater paws Karl missed the mischievous grins and looks that passed between the other four. A silent plan formed.

“What!? Gogy forgot your raspberries? How rude, don’t worry I’ve got your back Karl.~” Sap said into his ear. Karl knew exactly what that tone was and barely had time to speak before a raspberry was blow onto his neck by Sapnap.

“SAHAHAP WHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?”

“Oi! Look what you’ve done Nappitus!” Quackity was using his chef voice again “You’ve upset Karl and made ’im sweah! You should know his favorite spot is right ‘ere!” With that he blew a raspberry upon Karl’s ribs.

“QUAHAHAHCK STAHAHAHAP” Karls shriekd but made no attempt to escape.

“You’re doing it wrong it’s riiight here~” Dream took in a huff of air.

Karl’s hands shot down from his face just in time to see his roommates’s lips reach his side “DREHEHEAM NOHOHOOOO- ACK” His whine was cut off by a yelp and a flood out loud, bright laughter. Dream smirked and continued.

“Now, now we should all know that Karl’s belly is his favorite~” George had to speak loudly to be heard over the symphony of sensations that were currently driving poor Karl insane. Karl squirmed and sputtered half hearted protests as George leaned down and took in a large breath. The vibrations sent a shock through Karl’s core and left him laughing silently. A chorus of raspberries on his four worst yet favorite spots was causing him to feel exhausted. Noticing this his quartet of lers each gave him one last raspberry before helping him rub away the phantom tickles. They all hugged him and showered him with praise for holding out.

“Thahahahat was mehehean” Karl giggled and hiccuped in the pile of an embrace.

“Was it too much?” George asked, a bit worried. Karl blushed and shook his head no.

“Did you love it Karl~?” Dream chided. Karl nodded, sweater paws covering his face.

“Awwww~ Karlos~” Quackity hugged him a bit tighter.

“Sh-shut up” Karl couldn’t hide the grin in his voice and the group laughed together. They stayed piled up for a while but eventually Dream and Quackity wandered off leaving Sapnap stranded under George and Karl who had managed to fall asleep on top of him.

#mcyt tickle #lee!karl #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #ler!quackity #ler!gogy #ler!george #ler! george not found

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