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incorrectmarvelquotesss · 4 years ago

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The Night’s End

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky goes for a walk after a nightmare and stops at a bookshop open at 2 am. ❤️‍🔥📚

Warnings: death, violence, choking, gunshots, blood and bruises, angst, strong language, mentions of physical and mental abuse, PTSD talks, a little fluff

A/N: My first fic! I hope you guys enjoy! I won’t be doing many fics, but for reaching 200 followers I thought why not? This is not edited yet. I’ve got a few requests which I am writing. Once they are done, they’ll be posted. If you want to be tagged in these fics, send an ask. Enjoy!

He watched the body fall to the ground with a soft thud, muffled by the carpet underneath the young man. He stood still even though every part of heart was whispering to him in a loud voice to run to the young man and help him. His brain kept him still, not moving even an inch until the young man took his last breath, draining the life out of him.

He stood still for another second, an instinct that was drilled into him to check if the target was really dead or not. After making sure the young man was dead from the gunshot wound, he walked backwards, slipping the pistol into its holster on his tactical suit. He turned around abruptly, stopping short as he saw a young woman, eyes flickering over the scene. Her eyes darted to him, fearful and shocked.

“Please,” she whispered into the air, voice raspy and shaking. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cocked his head to the side a little, walking nearer to her. He could smell her strong perfume, scented with citrus fruits of sorts. He walked closer, stopping only a foot away from, watching as a predator would to his prey.

She squirmed and shrank under his gaze, holding onto the doorknob with one hand behind her when it jabbed her back. She clutched her purse in the other hand, knuckles turning white. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her temple. She wiped it hastily with the back of her hand clutching the purse.

“No,” he answered simply before his metal hand darted out to choke the woman. His hand gripped her throat tightly, arm whirring with mechanical parts. It clicked and buzzed as he pushed her head back to the door. This was all second nature to him.

Killing and murder. He was a monster that no one could tame. He knew that and so did Hydra.

Bucky shot up with a gasp, clutching the blanket on the ground. His heart was pounding in his ears with beads of sweat gliding down his forehead. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, glistening in the dim light of the television still playing. He looked up at it, blue eyes still trying to focus on the light, and noticed the soccer match playing. Although he had no interest in it, he watched each movement of the players carefully. He studied each movement before the whistle was blown and it was halftime.

He blew out a breath, a little happy that he could distract himself for a while from his nightmares. More like memories, said a bitter voice at the back of his head. He cringed and felt the gut wrenching feeling making its way to his heart. It happened every night and each night he would feel guilt seep into his bones for his soulmate. His soulmate could probably feel his panic and guilt at the moment, but he was surprised to feel a bit of curiosity that didn’t belong to him.

He felt a tug on his blanket, also tugging him out of his thoughts, and faced the white feline he had adopted a few weeks back. Alpine. Alpine’s big eyes looked up at him, head-butting his flesh hand close to her. He almost smiled as his hand started to scratch Alpine behind her ear and she purred softly. A few seconds later, she left abruptly and jumped onto the couch to go back to sleep.

Bucky let out a huff of breath which he would count as a laugh. He looked to his side where his phone was—not the flip phone he showed to his therapist. This was a sleek, new model of the latest phone in which he used multiple things in, like Tinder. He was trying to get into dating again, mostly hoping that he could find his soulmate.

He was, the least to say, surprised when he found out that he even had a soulmate in this time. He had thought that Dot, the girl he practically swooned over in the 40s, was his only soulmate. He had been so sure. Their tattoos were stars with a simple dot at the top of one of the points. But when he had been in Hydra’s capture, it had changed. Now it was a heart with a simple swirl in it.

He tapped the screen of his phone twice and squinted his eyes at the sudden brightness. The lock screen was a simple picture of Alpine. Well, she was cuddling with Bucky on the couch, but Bucky had cropped himself out of the picture. He looked at the numbers staring back at him.

1:26.

He blinked once and then shut the phone off. He looked out the window and huffed before getting up, shoving the blanket off of his legs. He grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants off of the couch that he had taken off when he brought his blanket out to the living room, sweating from his last nightmare. Memory. He hopped on one foot as he slipped one leg in and then repeated it for the next leg. He grabbed a burgundy hoodie, pulling it over his head as he turned around and picked up his phone—just in case.

Taking one last look at his apartment, he pulled on some socks and shoes and took the keys from the bowl. He opened the door and slid out, keeping his eyes focused on everything around him. Old habits die hard, he thought as he shoved his keys and phone into his pocket, feeling his wallet as he did so. He must have forgotten to take it out yesterday.

He dashed out of the building, waving a little to the secretary at the front desk as politely as he could. She gave him a flirtatious smile, which he ignored because she was married. He didn’t flirt with married women, even if he didn’t flirt anymore these days.

He stepped out of the building, feeling the cool night breeze flow through his hoodie, glad that he didn’t wear a shirt—the cool air felt great against his hot body. The effects of the nightmare were still there; sweat, eyes flickering around, ears on high alert. The moon was shining brightly in the clear sky with splatters of stars like white paint. The stars seemed to twinkle, shimmering like glitter.

Bucky smiled slightly, remembering when Morgan had covered his arm in glitter. He looked down and started to walk down the sidewalk, thinking of his life in the 40s. He had always loved to stargaze and explore more about space. Back in the 40s, everything was on books, but now Bucky could search up everything he wanted, whenever and wherever.

“Hey, you going somewhere?” He looked up to see a man standing on the curb, leaning against a car, talking to a woman. The woman had tensed up and clutched her purse. Bucky slowed down, trying to catch what was gonna happen.

“Just down the block,” she said, voice shaking a little. The man crossed his arms and gestured to his car with his head.

“I’ll drop you off,” his voice was ruff, but there was a slight gentleness and sadness to it. “It ain’t safe out here for a girl like you. My sister wasn’t safe either.”

The woman’s head whipped around to look at the man. Her eyes were searching for a hint of lie, Bucky thought, watching the scene unfold. “I’m sorry,” she said when she thought that the man was sincere.

“It’s alright,” the man said, pushing himself off the car. “Beat the guy when she told me, but the police here didn’t do anything more than a restraining order. I can walk you if you want, unless you're trained in karate or something.” This emitted a laugh out of the woman.

Bucky was almost beside them, keeping his head low. He moved a bit over so that he would walk behind the woman.

“Find your soulmate yet?” He asked, making the woman touch her wrist.

Bucky knew why he had asked that. A soulmate could feel your feelings and pain—not as bad, like a needle—something that Bucky always hated. He felt the guilt whenever he had gotten hurt over a mission or even when he had nightmares, he always thought about his soulmate. On the other hand, he had felt happiness spread throughout his body from his soulmate. There had been a couple of times where he felt a pang of sadness, but it was usually replaced with calm and quietness.

“No,” she replied with a soft voice.

“Me neither,” the man gave a toothy grin as Bucky passed the two. The woman giggled as the man said, “Mine is a circle with an arrow in it. Yours?”

The woman gasped and, Bucky assumed that she pulled up her sleeve, then heard the man chuckle.

Bucky zoned them out, trying to ignore the pang of pain in his chest. He took out his phone, desperately trying to forget about soulmates. He quickly read through all the updates Sam had sent.

Sarah and the kids are doing great. Hope you are, too. <Sent 2d ago

The kids really want you back and guess what? I found her! She’s perfect. Her name’s Aaliyah and I want you to meet her bro. <Sent 1d ago

Bucky sighed, not finding what he was hoping for. But he sent back a text anyway, feeling like he owed Sam a little ‘I’m fine and alive’ text.

That’s amazing! I’ll see you all next Sunday like we planned. You should bring Aaliyah and introduce us. <Delivered 2m ago

He shut off his phone and looked around. He was near the lane of shops and most of them were closed. There was an all-nighter pub and pharmacy, but one particular shop caught his eye. It was a bookshop he had wanted to visit a few times now, but never got the chance. It was still open by the looks of it and Bucky wasn’t doing anything else.

He started towards it, hoping that the lights on meant it was still open. He did wonder why it was open at this odd time, but as he approached the shop it was more clear why. A woman was walking around the shelves, helping sleepy teenagers and adults stay awake and giving them coffee to fuel them.

Her H/C was flowing freely while her E/C were flickering around the shop. Her hands held a stack of books and a tray of coffee. The books were all different topics and authors, Bucky could tell. Her face was soft as she placed a book on a teenager’s table and smiled slightly. The teenager looked up at her and smiled. She said something to him and then smiled before walking around the shelves again. She looked up as if she felt his eyes on her, but she quickly turned when a man came up behind her.

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy in his stomach. It was a feeling that he couldn’t ignore and it only got stronger as the man placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it up and down. She nodded as the man spoke, a smile creeping up on her face. She threw her back laughing, covering her mouth as she shook her head. She looked at the customers, apologizing sheepishly at her outburst. She put the books and empty tray on the counter and put her hands on the man’s shoulder, talking seriously. He nodded once, jaw clenching. She patted his shoulders, a smile back on her face as the man started for the door.

Bucky realized that he had been staring and started to walk towards the door. The man had gotten there first, flinging the door open just as Bucky reached for it. The man smiled tiredly and turned to the side, allowing Bucky to slip by. He nodded as a silent thanks.

“No problem, bud,” he said, nodding slightly, and stepped out the door.

Bucky looked behind him before taking in the bookshop. The big shelves filled the three walls, including behind the counter the woman stood behind, flipping through a book. There were four seats at the three tables that were set in the middle. There were more shelves vertically placed close to two of the walls.

Bucky started to walk but felt a small burn on his wrist. He felt it itch as if he gotten a terrible rash, but it stopped in a heartbeat. He stopped abruptly, knowing exactly what it meant. He pulled his sleeve up, looking down at his flesh wrist where the once black, now gold, soulmate tattoo.

His soulmate was close by.

He looked up and saw the woman staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes were scanning his face for any emotion, but Bucky knew she couldn’t. His mask was up, the guard that he would put up when he didn’t want anyone to know how he was feeling. It worked for Steve, Sam, even Natasha. But the woman only shook her head. “Won’t work. I can feel your emotions.”

He nodded once. “I know.” He was feeling joy, but there was more. More emotions flooding him in waves. Anxiousness. Shocked. Guilt.

“Stop thinking for a second,” she whispered, smiling sweetly at him, “and breathe.” He inhaled deeply and held it in for a few seconds before letting it go. He had unconsciously moved closer to the counter and her.

“I’m Bucky,” he blurted out, putting his hand on the counter. She giggled at his flustered face and if Bucky said that wasn’t the most sweetest thing Bucky ever heard, he’d be lying.

“I’m Y/N,” she replied, holding out a hand for him to shake. He glanced at it before putting his hands in hers. “Just a sec.” She had looked over his shoulder and nodded her head. He glanced over his shoulder to see another teenager looking at Y/N with a small desperation in her eyes. Y/N grabbed a book from behind her and then turned around, holding the book up. The teenager ran over and grabbed the book from her hand, hugging her as well. Y/N giggled again and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat.

“What is this?” He asked once the teenager sat down on her seat again. Y/N bit her lip and leaned over the counter, her elbows holding her up.

“A support group of a sort, I guess,” she answered, shrugging slightly. “School’s not exactly relaxing.”

“And staying up late?”

“They’ve got a long weekend.” She giggled again and Bucky could swear his heart actually stopped beating for a second. Bucky gulped and nodded. His mind flashed images of just before; the man, Y/N, her laughter.

“Who was that?” Bucky blurted out before he could bite his tongue. Y/N straightened up, a teasing smile on her face.

“Are you feeling threatened by a teenager?”

He could hear the light teasing behind her words and felt a fondness towards her. It had been a while since someone had joked around with him. He smiled for the first time in a while and shook his head. “I meant the man that left before I came in.”

“Oh!” She laughed, shaking her head and saying, “No, no,” repeatedly. She stopped laughing, giggles still escaping her mouth. “That’s my cousin. He’s closer than a brother, though, TJ.”

Bucky felt his ears and cheeks heat up, turning red, no doubt, with embarrassment. “Okay.” Bucky felt a prickle of guilt behind all the embarrassment, but it didn’t belong to him.

“I’m not lying,” Y/N said, noticing that Bucky could feel her emotion. “I’m just used to joking around and I don’t really know if you’re okay with it or not. It’s just that you got uncomfortable all of a sudden and I thought that… I’m sorry.” She winced at her ramble, but looked at Bucky with soft eyes when he started to chuckle. She bit her lips, holding back her smile at his laughter. It was a sweet sound and she felt as if she could listen to it for eternity.

“It’s fine,” he sighed, eyes twinkling. “It’s been a while since someone joked around the Winter Soldier.” He cringed as he let it slip, shutting his eyes for a second. He opened them, expecting Y/N to be scared or fear him, but he found none of that. Instead he saw and felt her curiosity spark.

“I’ve heard about that,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “You were captured by Hydra and taken control over, but now they have no control over you.” Y/N had left out several parts of his past, but he had a feeling that she knew everything anyway.

Bucky nodded curtly. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.” She smiled softly at him, hand reaching out for his left one.

She didn’t care, Bucky thought with a small surprise. He didn’t feel any fear or anxiousness from her. It was all admiration and curiosity and warmth.

The dark night that plagued him had finally ended.

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edith-moonshadow · 3 years ago

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Dear Heart Part Two Billy’s POV

Part One (with tags)

Billy grimaced as he shaded around the fox’s eye. He had only done one tattoo on himself before this and it hadn’t been this intricate or important. As the needle bit into his skin, he only kept two things on his mind, Steve Harrington and destruction.

Billy’s mom had always loved his art especially when he’d been younger and it had only been them when Neil was at work. Billy had loved sitting in the corner of their kitchen by the window drawing on the pages that his mom gave him as she dealt with her clients. Neil kept all the money under lock and key but wouldn’t let her get a job. She had fought against these constraints at first until she finally decided that she could work from home providing people with a service that they would pay a lot for. People who wanted help in their lives, those who wanted to give fate a helping hand.

For a lot of people, it was help finding the right job, the right path to success in their lives. Some people wanted a little comeuppance for someone who had wronged them. Nothing too serious maybe they missed an important job interview or had a bad day. Then there were the people who had fallen for someone. With those particular clients the thing that he always remembered the most was their faces, that slightly guilty look in their eyes. When these particular clients came to their house his mom’s tone of voice changed becoming hushed and saddened.

“You shouldn’t tempt fate.”

“I thought you could help me?”

“I can but these results will only be temporary so use your time wisely.”

With a sigh, she would pick up the worn leather-bound book that had belonged to her grandmother and walk back to them. Then she would hand them a piece of paper.

“I need you to draw the person you’re thinking of, hold them in your mind and draw them.”

Most people would protest that they weren’t artists but his mom would reassure them that they just need to manifest them in their minds while committing them to the page.

“It’s not art, it’s magic.”

She would then produce a small jar filled with a thick clear balm. She had shown him how to make it, how to care for the herbs and flowers that had to be used. It was a complicated ritual to prepare it but his mom always called it Moondust, as it had to be created by the light of the moon and had a faint glow to it. She would take this balm and get the person to rub it on their picture before it was burned.

“Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will but only for a short while.”

Once the paper was ash they would pay her and be on their way. Even from a young age, Billy had been fascinated by the whole process and he would ask her so many questions about it but the most pressing was always why wasn’t it permanent. Maybe if they could make it permeant they could get away from Neil and have it just be the two of them. His mom would sigh sadly.

“No baby you can’t change fate only play with it for a while.”

“Why?”

She would pull him close.

“Changing fate demands a sacrifice, something has to be destroyed for it to work but the paper is a small sacrifice. A safe sacrifice.”

Billy didn’t want to believe it, there had to be a way but soon everything changed and he didn’t get to ask any more questions. When his mom left it felt as though she took all the loose pages that Billy used to draw on with her. He didn’t draw seriously for several years until he found his love again through school where it became an escape. A long lost connection to her.

It was only when everything went wrong in California that he discovered some of his old art from when he’d been a child. His mom’s book had been filled with beautiful illustrations and spells that sounded like poetry. When he’d been younger he had copied entire pages from the book while his mom had been beside him encouraging him. He had shoved them into a bag, a burning in his throat but he couldn’t bear to throw them away.

Hawkins was worse than he’d been imagining and he could feel his rage burning through him, he felt anger at everyone, especially Neil. He poured his anger into his art, his frustration and pain becoming something beautiful on the page. He hated Hawkins, everything felt so backwards and ordinary. He was sure that nothing ever happened there. When he’d first arrived he thought it would be a tedious wait until he was finished with high school so that he could finally leave but fate had another plan in mind for him.

From the moment that he’d first laid eyes on Steve Harrington Billy had felt completely disoriented. He had done his best to appear unaffected but his heart had been racing, a strange burning in his chest as he watched him dancing with Wheeler. Steve had been so dismissive of him that it made him burn inside as Steve was constantly on his mind but when they ran into each other Steve treated him like he wasn’t there. For the first time in his life art couldn’t calm his mind.

He tried to forget about him by hanging out with the other members of the basketball team who under Tommy’s influence had a lot to say about Steve and little of it was good. To Billy, it sounded like a lot of bitter jealousy but at least he got to learn some things about Steve. Yet it only made him ache more so he tried to lose himself in other people but it only left him cold. Soon the only thing he looked forward to each day was riling Steve up in the halls of Hawkins high. Until they graduated.

Billy had taken a job at the local pool, it gave him something to do, a little extra money and took his mind off what he couldn’t have. Then Steve got a job at Scoops Ahoy and Billy’s summer became a lot more frustrating. Soon he found himself by the pool sketching as the air grew cooler and fewer people came to the pool. Billy mind appeared on the page, his rage, his pain and the one thing he ached for above everything else.

He was so lost that when he heard someone’s voice he almost dropped his work.

“They’re really good, are you an artist?”

He turned to see a petite girl with long black hair smiling at him.

“No.”

“You’re really good.”

“Thanks.”

“Want a job?”

“Doing what?”

“Well I just opened a tattoo parlour near Starcourt and by the looks of things you’ll need another job soon and you’re art is really impressive.”

Billy shrugged.

“Drawing on paper is going to be different than on people.”

“True but we could work out an apprenticeship.”

Billy looked down at the picture in his hands, it was Steve’s face but without his eyes, he hadn’t perfected them yet even though he thought of them often. He thought why not do something that gave him a creative outlet, it was true that soon the pool would close and he’d have to find some way to stay out of the house.

“Why not?”

By the end of the week, he was spending all his days at On A Dead Man’s Chest learning everything he could from Betty and before he knew it he had his first customer. It took everything in him to hold the needle steady, he could feel the tremors under his skin but he did his best to work through it. He soon found himself with a steady client base and he found himself gravitating towards traditional tattoos. He could also do more realistic tattoos but so far only a handful of people in Hawkins had requested them. Betty told him often how impressed with his work she was and Billy couldn’t help[ but absorb her praise. He enjoyed her company she had been a tattoo artist for around ten years and she had great stories about the strange tattoos people wanted and their reactions to getting tattooed.

Being near Starcourt also allowed him to indulge in his other obsession and he would walk to the rail opposite Scoops Ahoy so that he could watch Steve. He could feel the ache within him grow as Steve moved around oblivious in the sailor outfit that was his uniform. He didn’t know if he wanted to find the person who had designed it unsure if he wanted to thank or threaten them. The only upside seemed to be that Billy was the only person affected by the uniform in the way that he was. He had seen Steve’s eyes harden as old classmates jeered or ignored him altogether.

The only people who seemed to spend any time with him was the girl who worked with him and Henderson and occasionally the other kids. The kids seemed to view him as some kind of older sibling but he couldn’t be sure about the girl. They had easy energy about them that made Billy clench his jaw so hard he got headaches. He’d never seen anything outwardly romantic between them and if what he’d witnessed with Wheeler was anything to go by he knew Steve wouldn’t be able to contain himself. Also to his chagrin he knew that he was still with Wheeler. He knew they probably referred to themselves as high school sweethearts, had inside jokes and had a whole future planned out.

Even though he knew it was pathetic he couldn’t stop watching Steve on his break, he felt so powerless. Steve had never accepted him and he wished he’d been able to approach him differently but when he got within arm's length something inside Billy always took over and he couldn’t help but push. Steve didn’t like that and now he had to watch him from afar like a lovesick schoolgirl.

After a while of being at the tattoo parlour, he decided he wanted to expand his art a little, give people something unique. He wasn’t sure if anyone in Hawkins would be interested but he hoped to expand and become good enough for somewhere bigger. He still had dreams of returning to California one day.

There wasn’t much inspiration in Hawkins and he still hid his sketches of Steve fear in his heart that Betty would recognise him or worse still that Max would see them. He knew that he had some old sketches from California in the top of his closet so he had got them down. He had a box filled with the drawing he used to do with his mom and the ones that he’d done under the tutelage of his old art teacher. Looking at them brought a bittersweet smile to his face as his mind was transported back to better times in his past. He was searching through them when he found an old sketch with writing on it and he remembered when he’d dabbled in calligraphy with his mom’s help. He closed his eyes letting the memory of her fill his mind. He could feel her arms around him, her hand gently guiding his on the page, the sweet smell of her perfume as her warm voice spoke softly.

“That’s it, just up and then back down and there you go all finished.”

He looked down at the slightly shaky scrawl in front of him and then back up into her proud eyes.

“It’s beautiful but once it’s dry you have to put it away where no one will see it, ok Baby.”

“Why?”

Her eyes softened.

“Some people won’t understand what this is but they will still fear it and they will use that fear against you.”

“Like dad?”

She pulled him close as she whispered against his skin.

“Yeah Baby.”

Billy looked down at the words now and even though he hadn’t seen them in years he knew what it was, the recipe for Moondust. It felt like all the air had been forced from his lungs as he collapsed back on the bed behind him. He couldn’t believe that all this time he’d had the answer to all his problems right here. Then he remembered his mom’s words to the desperate people who came to her with guilt in their eyes.

‘Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will but only for a short while.’

Billy didn’t want Steve for only a short while, he wanted it to be forever. He knew that he could draw him over and over, keep rubbing the balm until the lines of the picture smudged and then throw it into the flames and keep Steve at the forefront of his mind. He would do it until Steve didn’t need him to anymore and came to him of his own free will. Billy knew that they were destined to be. Yet there was a nervousness under his skin when he remembered that his mom would only perform this particular spell once no matter how much a person beg or threatened her when the person they loved walked away from them. She never disclosed why it could only be done once but nothing could ever persuade her to repeat it.

No, a simple drawing would never be enough, he needed to figure out a way to make it permanent so that he only had to do it once and Steve would be his. Soon it occupied his every thought fuelled by the growing jealousy he felt as he watched Steve grow closer to the girl he worked with but the final straw was when he moved out of his parent's house and in with Wheeler.

Billy knew he was running out of time, his jealousy burning through him until he felt as though his heart was on fire. He drew Wheeler, he knew it wasn't a perfect recreation of her face because he'd never paid her much attention. He knew that it wasn't important to get every detail of her correct, he just needed something that resembled her to destroy as he kept her firmly in his mind. He had waited on the full moon to create some of the balm. He'd found himself mesmerized with how it caught the light as it seemed to glow.

He couldn't figure out what to do with Wheeler until he remembered Tommy telling him with a sneer in his voice about how the freak was so sweet on her. Byers.

It felt like the perfect solution so he searched for a yearbook then drew Byers beside her, his eyes firmly on her with a familiar light burning them up from within. He thought about them together as Byers' feelings grew and Wheeler finally realised how perfect he was. He held onto the slow burn romance in his mind, that they spend so much time together, realise how much they have in common, how perfect they are for one another until they couldn't deny it anymore. As he kept it firmly in his mind he dipped his fingers into the balm rubbing it over the lines until they bled together smudging the lines between reality and fantasy. Then he opened his lighter and watched with satisfaction as it burned to ash.

Even though he wasn’t sure if the spell had worked he continued to think about them together hoping that it would become reality while he figured out how to capture Steve’s heart. He continued to try and capture Steve in his art but there was always something not quite right. He couldn’t fully capture his eyes even though he’d seen them up close so many times and they haunted his dreams he couldn’t get them right on paper.

Over the next week, he felt his desperation grow as he didn’t know how much time he had on the spell between Wheeler and Byers and he wasn’t even sure if it was working. There had to be a way to make the spell permanent but his mom had been practising magic since she was young and had learned everything she knew from her mom and grandmother so if there was a way surely they would have known. His desperation grew so strong that in his weakest moments he thought that a short amount of time with Steve was better than nothing. Yet he knew when his time was up he wouldn’t be able to go back to the way things were before and he knew how much it would hurt for Steve to return to ignoring him. He would be just like those people who used to come to his mom with pain or anger in their voice as they did everything they could for just a little more time.

There was a distinct chill in the air, his breath misting before him as he listened carefully. He moved slowly through the forest led by his instincts something else was here. He moved around a tree and there it was a beautiful deer, it was silently eating some leaves nearby but even though he didn’t make a sound it startled and looked in his direction. When its large doe eyes met his it turned and ran. With his heart beating rapidly in his chest he ran towards it, his hunger grew until he couldn't help licking over his teeth. The chase made him feel alive, it was more than his hunger it was a deep need within him that needed to be sated. Finally, he caught it, he looked down into its wide eyes as he sunk his teeth deep into its chest until he could taste its beating heart.

Billy awoke with his heart hammering in his chest but the final image of his dream was imprinted in his mind. A fox with its teeth sinking into a deer’s heart.

He couldn’t shake the image for days, the large doe eyes of the deer and how the sharp teeth of the fox sunk so easily into its heart taking it for its own. It felt as though his mind had been enchanted by the dream for days until he finally committed it to paper. As he stared at it he couldn’t help thinking about Steve’s eyes and all the times when they’d been in school together and he had cornered him and got to see them up close. That twist in his stomach, the thrill under his skin as Steve became flustered and Billy’s hunger grew.

Slowly the idea formed in his mind and he couldn’t believe he hadn't thought of it sooner, a tattoo. He would take the image from his dream and tattoo it onto his skin, the needle scarring him would be the destruction and he’d think about Steve’s devotion for him so that he could finally ensnare his heart.

It took several hours after work in the tattoo parlour when it was locked up for the night for Billy to complete the tattoo. The time was filled with pain as he tattooed the image from his dreams onto his chest while keeping Steve’s devotion firmly in his mind. When it was completed he took a freshly prepared jar of the balm and rubbed it carefully over his chest while continuing to keep Steve in mind. A searing pain spread out across his skin making his breath catch as he fell heavily to his knees, the skin around his tattoo becoming hot and tight as sweat broke out across his face. He dug his fingers into the ground so hard that he thought his nails would split as he took several deep breaths trying to control his pain before it slowly started to subside. He collapsed fully onto the cold floor of the tattoo parlour his heart beating erratically as he continued to think about Steve and the moment when he’d give his heart to him.

He watched Steve from across the mall for several days with a burning desire for him to finally notice him but nothing significant seemed to have changed and he remained unnoticed. He wanted so desperately to just walk casually into Scoops and gauge Steve’s reaction to him but he couldn’t bear it if it hadn’t worked. He had never seen the interactions between the people who came to his mom and the people they chose but he had always assumed it was instantaneous but maybe it took more time than he knew. He was still in high demand back at the tattoo parlour so he tried to get lost in work.

“Hey, Billy you’re not going to believe who just walked in?”

“Who?”

Betty smiled.

“A sailor and he wants a traditional heart tattoo.”

Billy’s heart started to race as he walked to the corner so he could look and see who was in the shop and to his delight there stood Steve Harington. Betty came to stand beside him.

“I think it might be his first tattoo and I think he wants to put someone’s name on it.”

She sighed as they watched Steve walk around the shop looking at examples of their work.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No, I have a client coming in first thing this morning but tell him to come back at six.”

“At six?”

“Yeah, I can talk to him about it then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m booked pretty solid for the next few weeks but I can fit him in later, it’s a pretty simple tattoo.”

Betty shrugged before she walked back to Steve and he retreated to the back. The rest of the day he couldn’t believe that Steve had finally come to him. That the spell had worked. He was so preoccupied with his excitement that he forgot to visit Scoops that day and instead spent his time preparing for Steve’s arrival.

The little bell ringing above the door into the shop alerted Billy to the fact that Steve had finally arrived. He quickly checked his station and realised that somehow in all his preparations for Steve getting here he’d forgotten to get more red ink. He walked out into the hall on his way to the stock room when he heard his voice.

“Hello?”

“Close the door tight and come back here.”

He listened for the door being closed then headed in the direction of the stockroom. He found the red ink quickly and returned to the room finding Steve sitting on the bed. He jumped up with wild eyes and Billy was transported to his dream for a moment.

“What are you doing here?”

Billy laughed raising his arms in front of him.

“I’m the tattoo artist.”

“What?”

“I was just getting some more red ink because I was told you wanted a traditional heart style tattoo. So you want to be a real sailor then.”

“Did you know it was me?”

Billy shook his head, Steve didn’t need to know that he’d been dreaming of this moment since he rubbed the Moondust on his chest.

“This is serious Hargrove I don’t want you fucking this up just to get at me.”

Billy moved closer he could feel the fox under his skin.

“Why would I do a shitty job and tank my own reputation as an artist just to piss you off? Trust me Princess I’m going to do a good job as I do for all my clients.”

Steve looked away with his shoulders slumped.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…”

“Why did you want a tattoo?”

Steve looked back at him with a searching look.

“You’ll only laugh at me.”

Billy could feel the excitement building under his skin, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Steve was here.

“You don’t have to tell me but trust me I’ve seen it all at this point.”

Steve bit his lip as he gathered the courage to tell Billy what he wanted and Billy felt his teeth ache.

“I wanted a heart tattoo…for Nancy.”

A strange mixture of disappointment and rage rose through him and he walked over to his station and threw down the red ink. Could the spell have worked but the message wasn’t clear and now he’d just reinforced his love for her? He wanted to bite his tongue in half but made himself continue to talk to Steve, maybe he could still salvage this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I dunno we’ve never really…seen eye to eye…”

“Where do you want it?”

There was a pause before Steve spoke again.

“I wanted it over my heart.”

Billy took a deep breath as he tried to control his emotions. Of course, Steve would want to make a grand romantic gesture and place it directly over his heart. He turned towards him.

“Ok take off your shirt.”

Steve’s eyes widened as Billy’s heart thudded in his chest.

“You promise me you’ll take this seriously.”

He extended his index finger and crossed his heart which seemed to work as Steve pulled off the top of his uniform exposing his smooth soft skin. His need to touch Steve became too great and he walked closer running his fingers fleeting over the space above his heart enjoying his small shiver.

“How big is it?”

Steve’s timid question made Billy think about the fox watching the deer’s eyes before it unveiled its sharp teeth. He ran his finger over his skin in accrued heart shape. Steve followed his finger intently with his eyes before he laughed nervously.

“That big huh?”

“It has to be a bit bigger to fit the name on it.”

Steve bit his lip as he contemplated what to do and Billy wanted to chase the sting of his teeth with his tongue. He moved back and motioned towards the bed and with a deep breath, Steve climbed up onto it and lay back. Billy moved closer and ran his fingers over his skin again. He couldn’t wait until he could touch Steve without pretence, just because he wanted to.

“Here?”

Steve nodded.

“So you want a classic heart with a banner?”

“Y-yeah with Nancy’s name in the banner.”

“That’s a very big commitment are you sure?”

Steve’s eyes got a faraway look as he considered the tattoo. Billy watched him wondering if he was thinking about her. He could feel a burning in his chest when he considered the tattoo one more and had an epiphany.

“Yes.”

Billy nodded then reached behind him for the vaseline that he would use to help the needle glide more easily over Steve’s skin before he grabbed his tattoo pen. Usually, he would use a stencil but he wanted Steve’s tattoo to be unique and created completely from Billy’s hand. He needed it to be if this was going to work. He drew the heart over where Steve’s heart was as he thought about Steve’s devotion to him. That after this he would be his always. He finished the design leaving the banner blank. For now.

“Where’s her name?”

“Don’t worry Pretty Boy, I’ll write in the name once I’ve got the heart finished.”

Steve lay back down and Billy got everything ready before moving close once more.

“I’m going to do the outline first then I’ll fill in the heart and banner then we can do the name and you’re finished.”

Steve nodded and Billy started the tattoo. He felt him flinch slightly before he closed his eyes taking small calming breaths. Billy concentrated on his work as he tried to keep Steve’s devotion in mind. By the time he was filling in the colour, Steve’s face had a rosy glow as he tried and failed to suppress breathless little moans. When people were in pain they made all different kinds of noises as they tried not to squirm but for Billy hearing, Steve make these little whimpers were driving him to distraction. He licked his teeth thinking of the day when they would be because of him and not his needle.

“Uhhhhhh….”

Billy had to take a steadying breath before he did something stupid that would derail the whole spell but he couldn’t resist moving his lips close to his ear just to feel him squirm.

“You ok, Princess?”

Steve let out a slow breath.

“Yeah, I just didn't know it was going to hurt so much.”

“You didn't know that having a needle stab into your skin over and over was going to hurt?”

“I knew it was going to hurt asshole just not this much.”

Billy ran his fingers over the tattoo relishing Steve’s small flinch.

“Want to take a break?”

“No, just keep going.”

While Steve was distracted he brought his lips close to his ear, the urge to bite was strong but he resisted.

“You’re doing so good.”

Steve settled back onto the bed and Billy returned to the tattoo. Soon he was finished with the colour portion and he started on the lettering. He didn’t write it out beforehand as he’d written it so many times in his life. He bit his lip in concentration as he slowly wrote the letters into the banner letting the idea of Steve’s devotion fill his mind. When this was over Steve would willingly offer his heart to Billy. When it was complete he moved back to admire it feeling something settle within him at the sight before him. He reached over and lifted the small jar that he had used on himself and carefully started to rub it into Steve’s skin. He put some on his finger and ran it over it each letter making sure that it was completely covered before he covered the heart. Steve shivered slightly then his breath escaped on a soft moan as his body slowly relaxed. Billy covered the tattoo completely in the balm then bandaged it up.

“Still with me Princess?”

Billy watched him carefully for any change as Steve slowly opened his eyes.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah.”

Steve looked down at the tattoo.

“You didn’t let me see it?”

“You’d fallen asleep and I needed to get it bandaged up to protect it but don’t worry you’ll see it in a couple of days.”

“A couple of days?”

“Yeah, I need you to come back and see me, Friday at six. Don’t take off the bandage or get it wet before then.”

“Why can’t I take it off?”

“Because you’ll ruin the tattoo that’s why just come back to me. I know the proper way to take off the bandages so that it doesn’t destroy the tattoo.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“We can discuss it when you come in on Friday.”

Billy hoped the spell would have taken effect by then.

The following day he awoke to the feeling of a million tiny ants dancing under the skin of his tattoo. It had never itched before but now it was unbearable even having his clothes touching it made him have to grit his teeth. An uneasy feeling crept under his skin as he worried that this was a bad sign for the spell. For the first time in a long time, he wished his mom was there was so he could ask for her guidance.

His day at work passed so slowly as he couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock or his mind of Steve. It was maddening to know he was only a short distance away and Billy didn’t know if the spell was working. When he break came along he practically rushed the client out the door even though the girl seemed pretty determined to stay and talk to him about tattoos but Billy was more determined to get rid of her. He didn’t even grab a coat or tell Betty that he was leaving he just walked quickly towards Scoops.

He took up his usual place across the mall but after a few minutes both Steve and the girl moved into the back and Billy was too impatient. He walked across the mall and in through the door, he had denied himself long enough. He could hear movement in the back of the shop and just walked around and into the back where he found Steve alone. He had his back to him and was getting a large tub of ice cream out of a freezer. He heard Billy approach and laughed.

“That was fast, he must be getting sweet on…”

Steve turned towards him with a smile, his eyes widening as he realised Billy was there. Billy watched him carefully for a moment to see if anything had changed but Steve just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights so he thought fuck it there was a sure-fire way to check and see if the spell was working. He walked quickly over to him backing him up against the freezer with the ice cream in between them. He leaned forward capturing Steve’s lips in a brutal kiss delighted when Steve gasped as he dropped the ice cream at their feet. Billy finally gave into temptation biting down hard on Steve’s plump lower lip causing him to open his mouth. He wasted no time licking into his mouth. He pressed his chest up against Steve’s and when they were fully against each other it seemed to ignite something in Steve causing him to moan and pull Billy closer. He quickly became enthralled by Steve, how he whimpered into his mouth and gave himself over to Billy. He slid his hands down onto his hips squeezing them in his hands so he could relish Steve’s gasp.

“Steve?”

The shocked voice echoed through the room and to Billy’s disappointment Steve pulled away from him. He wanted to press in harder and keep him there but he knew now that there was plenty of time for that. The spell wasn’t fully in effect yet but it was working on Steve and soon he would be his. He grabbed Steve’s arm pulling him close just so he could relish his shiver as he whispered into his ear.

“See you Friday, Princess.”

With difficulty, he pulled away from Steve and walked from the shop. He couldn’t wait until he got him all alone on Friday.

Billy was practically vibrating in his skin as closing time approached. He had spent the whole day fantasizing about Steve again but this time there was anticipation too because he knew the spell was working. He didn’t have any clients from five so he had spent his last hour at work getting everything ready.

Around six he heard the bell above the door ring out and then the door closing firmly. When he heard Steve arrive at his room he turned towards him. His eyes widened slightly as he took in Billy’s chest and he couldn’t help preening under his attention especially as he looked at the tattoo. He could almost feel the fox beneath his skin as it tracked Steve as he crossed the room. He looked like the frightened deer from his dream as though at any moment he would sprint from the room. Billy motioned towards the bed then as soon as Steve had sat down he boxed him in with his body and grabbed the bottom of his uniform shirt. Steve looked up at him with wide eyes and he could feel the fox’s mouth start to water as he pulled it up and off. Steve lay down and Billy moved over him, his eyes zeroed in on the bandage. His fingers itched to remove it to finally see what he knew was there, a brand across Steve’s skin. Proof that he belonged to him.

“Ready Princess?”

He let his fingers dance over the edge of the bandage, letting the sweet anticipation bubble under his skin as he slowly started to peel it away. He couldn’t resist watching Steve to see his reaction as he knew this would be the first time that he would see the tattoo. He watched Steve’s eyes as he watched as it was slowly revealed until he saw it in its entirety. A blood-red heart with Billy’s name in the middle. Steve’s eyes locked with his own and all he saw was Steve’s anticipation for what would happen next, no fear, no anger only desire. He couldn’t hold the fox’s hunger back any longer so he struck.

He climbed up onto the bed so that he was on top of Steve then leaned down so that he could capture his lips in a hungry kiss. Steve sighed against him as though he had been waiting with bated breath for Billy to finally claim him then he kissed back with equal hunger. He could feel Steve’s fingers tentatively stroking over his chest and he pulled back. Steve looked up at him with a delicate flush on his cheeks before his eyes fell to his chest once more. Billy pulled his shirt away so that Steve could see everything. He leaned up slightly so that he could run his fingers over the design. His fingers lingered on the heart and Billy felt something within him settle.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. What’s it from?”

“A dream.”

Steve looked at him and something passed through his mind, an understanding. Billy pulled him into another kiss before he covered Steve completely with his body. Steve wrapped his arms around him pulling him closer.

Billy let himself get lost in Steve for a while but soon he needed more so he started to kiss his way down Steve’s body He licked over his skin relishing his small shivers until the urge to mark became too strong. He sank his teeth into the side of Steve’s neck pleased when he made a similar sound to the anguished pleasurable noises he’d made when Billy had tattooed him. He moved down leaving a trail of bright red marks in Steve’s skin until he reached the tattoo.

He placed a soft kiss in the centre before he licked slowly over his name tracing each letter with his tongue delighted when he felt Steve’s fingers dig hard into his shoulders with his name breathlessly on his lips.

“Billy…”

He slid further down until he reached the top of Steve’s shorts. As he undid them he thought about how much they had occupied his mind since he had started in Scoops. He had appreciated them for a long time but also hated that other people got to see Steve in them. He slid them and his underwear down and off as he was growing impatient. He took a moment to admire Steve’s body, his pale skin dotted with beauty marks and the heart tattoo stark against it. He pulled Steve’s thighs apart so that he could push his way in between them. He licked over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh enjoying the little jump he could feel under his skin. He slid his fingers into his jeans pocket so that he could retrieve the lube he’d brought with him just for this.

He concentrated on a spot that he selfishly knew would still be visible when Steve had his shorts on and bit down hard before soothing it with his tongue then he licked an inch up and repeated the process all over again. Steve squirmed under him, his skin becoming heated and clammy under Billy’s ministrations. Steve whimpered something that sounded like his name and Billy opened the lube pouring it generously over his fingers. He moved up towards Steve’s hip biting down into the bone as he pressed a finger up against Steve’s hole. With a little pressure, he was able to push it inside as it fluttered around it. Billy licked over the indents he’d left in Steve’s hip before he moved over towards his hard cock.

Steve cried out when he sucked the head into his mouth, he ran his tongue over it as he pushed his finger in further. Steve shuddered under him as he pulled his cock further into his mouth while messaging the underside with his tongue. He pulled his finger back then pressed in another alongside it feeling Steve’s thighs tensing. Billy worked hard to make sure that Steve was becoming overwhelmed in pleasure as he’d dreamed about this moment for so long and he wanted it to be perfect. He knew that the spell was working but he wanted to make it permanent, for Steve to only ever want him. He wanted him to associate Billy with pleasure. He wanted to fully ensnare his heart so that he would be his always.

He crooked his fingers pleased when Steve jumped and his cock throbbed in Billy’s mouth. He pulled back until only the head remained then pressed against that spot again. Steve moaned as pre-come dribbled into Billy’s waiting mouth. He had to shift slightly to accommodate his hard cock in his jeans. He licked over Steve a little longer just to draw out the agony then he pulled back and away. Steve looked down at him, his lips were swollen and red from his teeth, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Billy?”

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, I’m just getting myself ready.”

He moved back so that he could undo his jeans and pull his hard cock out. He poured more lube onto his hand and coated himself with it while Steve watched him with wide doe eyes. Billy’s hunger knew no bounds as he slid back up Steve’s body to capture his bitten lips once more. He positioned himself and pushed forward enjoying Steve’s whimper into his mouth as his body fluttered around him. Once he bottomed out Billy started a steady rhythm. He kissed his way down Steve’s throat.

“Fuck Princess you feel so good.”

Billy was already addicted to this feeling, of how perfectly Steve’s body squeezed around him, his slightly pained whimpers every time he pulled back only to be followed by a soft moan every time he pushed forward. How beautiful he was in this moment as he surrendered willingly to Billy’s hunger. How they felt like two halves finally coming together. He didn’t think he would survive a separation if Steve decided he didn’t want him anymore and left to give his love to someone else. The idea of someone else getting to see Steve like this. That someone else would touch him like this made a boiling rage rise within him. He sunk his teeth hard into Steve’s skin, he wanted to do it so hard that it would become a permanent brand, a little destruction to strengthen the spell.

His need pushed him to increase his pace as he continued to lick and bite his way down Steve’s body. The word mine blazed across his mind as he thought about the fox, how it ripped the heart from the deer’s chest until it became its own. It didn’t belong to the deer anymore it was his heart. He wanted to devour Steve’s heart so that no one else could ever lay claim to it. He growled into Steve’s heated skin.

“Mine.”

“Yes, Billy…”

Steve’s body became tighter and tighter as he pushed harder and harder until his lips danced over the edge of the tattoo. He licked his way into the centre. His name. His heart. He sunk his teeth in hard until he tasted sweet coppery blood. Steve cried out as his body clamped down hard on Billy until he felt him come in between their bodies.

“Billy…Billy…”

His name on Steve’s lips and the taste of his blood in his mouth caused Billy to follow him as he came deep inside him. He lost track of time as his mind became full of nothing but Steve.

When he came to his face as pressed up against Steve’s chest with Steve’s fingers running softly through his hair. He listened closely but all he could hear was Steve heart beating gently in his ear. He pulled back to look up at him and Steve smiled lovingly down at him. He glanced at the tattoo seeing his bloody teeth marks in Steve’s heart before he moved up and caught him in a passionate kiss. Steve moaned at the taste of his blood and Billy remembered his mom’s words.

‘Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will.’

Billy understood destruction. He was good at it. His mom had taught him a lot but the most important was that love was fleeting. She had taken her love and given it to someone else with barely a backward glance. Steve was different and so was Billy. There was something deep and hungry inside him and the only thing that would satisfy it was Steve. Billy knew for Steve he wouldn’t only bend fate, he would push it until it snapped. Steve’s heart was his.

#harringrove #my writing #minors dni #dear heart

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years ago

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb, part 5.2

Also yes this is a 5 part story arc, why do you ask, no I’m not “avoiding real life work”

Main Chat

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW THERE ARE THOSE WHO WOULD COMPLAIN ABOUT BEING DRAGGED OUT OF BED AT AN UNGODLY HOUR FOR THE SAKE OF SOME JEWELRY AND FORCED INTO AN ADVENTURE

Wu Xie: And we are just so grateful you are above all that.

Zhang Qiling: You were fully awake and insisted we pack and go as soon as possible in case there was, and I quote, “more weird shit happening we can cash in on.”

Wu Xie: I mean it’s kind of interesting that the Zhang family sent a car for us. We could have driven. So what is going on there, I wonder?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW FOR A PARANOID AND CONNIVING LITTLE SHIT YOU STILL RADIATE OBLIVIOUS BAMBI ENERGY

HATE TO BE THE ADMIRAL ACKBAR HERE BUT ITS DEF A TRAP MY BOY

WHY DO U THINK WE ARE MESSAGING AND NOT TALKING DUMMY

WERE YOU IN A TOMB ON THE DAY THEY TAUGHT PPL STRANGER DANGER

BUT NO NO YOU WERE ALL “LETS GET IN THE VAN WITH THE FREE CANDY AND PUPPIES I BET WE’RE GOING TO THE CIRCUS”

THIS IS THE LAST STRAW IM LOJACKING YOU FOR REAL THIS TIME, SHOULDVE DONE THIS YEARS AGO

Zhang Qiling: I agree, in this particular case, with Pangzi. You should not have gotten in their vehicle while we were still inside the house. It forced us to follow you into the van to prevent separation, and they seemed to be expecting that. I don’t know whether Zhang Rishan intended this, but I don’t trust him.

Wu Xie: :( I got excited and didn’t think it through. I’m sorry.

Wang Pangzi: DONT YOU GIVE US THE BIG EYES WE ARE IMMUNE

MOSTLY

SPEAKING OF IMMUNE ITS REALLY FUCKIN COLD IN HERE AND UR STILL SICK, PUT YOUR JACKET ON STUPID

Wu Xie: oh relax, I’m fine. No fever at all today, remember? I feel a lot better, too.

Wang Pangzi: YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE BUT TO HAVE XIAO GE INTERVENE

Zhang Qiling: It is odd to say this, but Pangzi is right again. You are barely back on your feet and could easily get worse again. Wu Xie. Jacket. Now.

Wu Xie: Oh fine. Teaming up on me, I see. Happy now?

Wang Pangzi: FUCKING ECSTATIC. NOW BACK TO HOW WE MAY BE PULLING A LI CU

Wu Xie: If it is an abduction, it wouldn’t be them moving against the whole Wu family—not with Uncle Erbai in charge. Zhang Rishan strikes me as someone who doesn’t make a move unless he is sure of his plan, and this is all a bit last-minute to be a big shift. Besides, they let Xiao Ge keep his sword and we still have all our phones.

Wang Pangzi: TOOK AWAY MY EXPLOSIVES THO THE BASTARDS

Zhang Qiling: In fairness, you were waving them around and yelling that if they tried anything it was going to be “yippeekiyay motherfucker all up in this bitch.”

Wang Pangzi: IT SOUNDS LESS COOL COMING FROM YOU. I THINK I SEE THE TEAHOUSE?

Wu Xie: me too. That’s Zhang Rishan on the steps. This must be urgent. Everybody stay shiny.

Zhang Qiling: I will be getting out first. Wu Xie in the middle, Pangzi at the rear.

Wang Pangzi: AND WHAT A VIEW;)

An hour later…

Main Chat

Wu Xie: Is everyone okay? I tried knocking but nothing is getting through, these are some solid walls.

Wu Xie: guys???

Wang Pangzi: OOPS PHONE WAS ON SILENT AND I WAS BUSY YELLING AT THE CEILING

IM PRESENT AND PISSED OFF

Zhang Qiling: Apologies, I was trying to break down the door.

Wang Pangzi: SO THIS MAY NOT BE THE TIME TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO BUT WHILE WE’RE HERE

Wu Xie: fuck Pangzi, I know, okay??

I’m an idiot, I’m so fucking stupid. It’s not like it’s the first or fiftieth time I’ve put you two in danger, either.

Wang Pangzi: HEY HEY WHOA NOW

STOP SAYING RUDE SHIT ABOUT MY FRIEND

ITS GONNA BE OKAY

DESPITE KNOWING THIS WAS A BAD IDEA I STILL COULDNT PREDICT HOW MUCH CHAOTIC LUCK THIS FAMILY HAS

DAMN IT I HATE WHEN HEI XIAZI IS RIGHT ABOUT THINGS

Zhang Qiling: I’m sorry. This is my fault. My line has a ruthlessly pragmatic streak and they’ve clearly wanted to test us separately to see why the necklace reacted to our arrival like that. It does not excuse Zhang Rishan trapping us in these separate rooms.

Wang Pangzi: UHH BITCH I SAID THIS FAMILY NOT YOUR FAMILY

THIS AINT ABOUT THEM

YOUR FAMILY IS ON MY SHIT LIST EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

THIS FAMILY MEANT US OBVS

UGH ANY SIGN OF THE BASTARDS?

Zhang Qiling: no. Wu Xie?

Zhang Qiling: Wu Xie, answer me.

Wang Pangzi: WU XIE

TIANZHEN

PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE DAMNIT YOU'RE SCARING XIAOGE

Zhang Qiling: I’m going to try breaking down the door again.

Wu Xie: Hello, Wang Pangzi and Zhang Qiling. My apologies for the rather inhospitable circumstances, but this seemed expedient considering the unknown qualities of the necklace. I could not be sure who was causing what, or what could happen next, and thus have temporarily set you in separate rooms for the sake of everyone’s safety.

Wang Pangzi: WTF GIVE HIM BACK HIS FUCKIN PHONE ZHANG RISHAN I KNOW ITS YOU YOU PRETENTIOUS ANTIQUE

WE DESTROYED THIS PLACE BEFORE AND WE CAN DO IT AGAIN

Zhang Qiling: Your concerns for everyone’s safety are noted. Thank you for whatever you believe you’ve done right here.

Now. If you release us immediately and return Wu Xie to us, we will consider leaving without direct personal retribution.

Wang Pangzi: WHAT HE SAID AND ALSO YOU SUCK

Wu Xie: I regret that this has happened, I hope to make it up to you in the future. For the purpose of today’s needs, however—I will have my men escort the two of you out if you so desire, but unfortunately Wu Xie will need to stay until we have finished examining him.

Wang Pangzi: EXAMINING??? YOU FUCKING PERV HANDS OFF HE MAY BE THE BELLE OF THE BALL BUT HIS DANCE CARD IS SPOKEN FOR

I SWEAR I DID NOT GO THROUGH TEN YEARS OF THIS STARCROSSED CLUSTERFUCK FOR YOU TO SWOOP IN AND STEAL MY FRIENDS BF

Wu Xie: There is no call for rudeness. He will not be harmed. The artifact was responding to him directly. It has not lit up like this in over 200 years, and I need to understand why it is responding, and responding to someone who is not our kin, which it has never done before. This could have implications for everyone in my family if it could protect someone at the right moment.

Wang Pangzi: OKAY BUT CONSIDERING OUR TRACK RECORD IN THIS BUILDING AND THE SITUATION AT HAND Y’ALL ARE ABOUT TO NEED PROTECTION

Wu Xie: The testing would be going better if Wu Xie wasn’t worrying himself unnecessarily over where you both are, it’s making our readings difficult.

Wang Pangzi: OH GEE SO SORRY YOUR KIDNAPPING VICTIMS ARENT THRILLED TO BE HERE TO SAMPLE YOUR CREEPY JEWELRY BOX BUT THAT SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM

Zhang Qiling: Zhang Rishan. I appreciate that you must think of our family first in your decisions. As must I. I hope you can appreciate what that means for decisions I make.

Wang Pangzi: HEHEHE SO TRUE BESTIE

YOU PISSED OFF THE WRONG GOTH TODAY BUDDY BOY

Zhang Qiling: A compromise: we stay with him as you run your tests. That will calm him and assuage Pangzi’s concerns and prevent me from…testing the limits of your lifespan.

Wu Xie: I accept that this may temporarily impact our relations, but am hopeful that you will come to understand that sometimes I need to make certain choices for this family that are…difficult. I will come to let you—One moment. Something seems to be happening.

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: OH SO WE ARE GONNA JUST POLITELY SIT WITH WU XIE AS STRANGERS POKE HIM WITH NEEDLES ARE WE HUH WELL LOOK WHOS BEING A HELPFUL LITTLE LAB ASSISTANT

Zhang Qiling: I’m attempting to convince him to let us out. Of course we will not simply sit there. Some lying to gain trust is necessary here.

Wang Pangzi: UR BEIN A SHADY BITCH XIAOGE AND ITS HOT

THATS WHY YOUR TATTOO IS SO BIG ITS FULL OF SECRETS

ALWAYS KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU TO—WAIT WHAT WAS THAT SOUND??

At the same time…

Bonnie and Clyde Chat

Xie Yuchen: …so, this is not what I expected to find.

Hei Yangjing: yeah kiddo is a bit freaked out:/ this sucks. I mean I get that they are concerned blah blah blah necklace goes brightbright but maybe we should go find the other two

or at least find a way to let Wu Xie know we are here, that room he’s in looks like a dungeon and not in a good way

Xie Yuchen: Does it look like I’m able to do anything right now? Also, I’m fairly certain they won’t be harmed. Zhang Rishan may be callous, but he isn’t stupid.

Hei Yangjing: r u kidding

he split up Romeo and Juliet, then left Romeo with a sword—seems pretty stupid to me

Xie Yuchen: Yeah I’m not going near that. He made his bed with that choice. What can you see? These Neanderthal guards are blocking my view.

Hei Yangjing: uh so there’s like a lab table situation

Wu Xie isn’t tied up, a good sign in this context

I can’t see what those people are holding, they’re talking a lot and some asshole just grabbed Wu Xie’s arm, looks like maybe they are putting in an IV?

The necklace is—oh. Oh shit.

#whomst #ultimate note #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle #dmemebj

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hufflesocks · 4 years ago

Text

Ok so I am a huge fan of the head cannon that the cores were once human so basically I’m just going to give my head cannon for what happened prior to GLaDOS taking over the facility and the events of Portal and Portal 2. And since I have been holding these head cannons in for too long, so I’m just going to info dump:

Due to the importance of Cave Johnson’s project of putting one’s consciousness into a computer, I would assume that those working on the project would want to run tests prior to the real thing. And what’s better than testing on the real thing: other people. For the very first test, the scientists working on the project decided to have the subject be one of Aperture’s many maintenance workers. This was due to that fact that if the test was successful then they could continue to use the core for maintenance work, and a robot doesn’t need breaks nor do they get sick. The candidate they chose was an immigrant from Norway named Virgil Evensen. He had no remaining close relatives and outside of a friendly old lady that he would cat sit for no one who would miss him. They put a lot of effort into the exterior of the core’s shell even going so far as to giving it floral designs that matched the tattoos of the subject they were using. The scientists wanted to make a very good first impression, and they did. The first transfer of human consciousness into a robot was a success. Though they learned the hard way that in order to avoid any existential crisis the memory of said person had to be completely whipped. Using this information they began to perform many other similar tests, with many other employees to create the personality cores.

Two particular Scientists who were involved in the project were Craig Nelson and Richard “Rick” Owens. Craig was originally on the project dealing primarily with with the science of actually transferring over human consciousness, while Rick was later partnered with him to help with the robotics aspect. Their relationship as co-workers was strained at first, but soon evolved into one of reluctant tolerance. Craig had a tendency to be a bit stuck up and arrogant, while Rick was more well adventurous and a bit of a braggart(think of him as a flirtatious cowboy). Rick developed the the type of attitude towards Craig that’s like “it’s not ok for anybody to pick on this person, but me.”

Rick grew up on a ranch in Montana with his older brother Connor. Connor went to school for Aeronautics, and eventually found himself under the employment of an up and coming science institute: Aperture Science. Rick followed in his brother’s footsteps getting a job at the same facility but in the field robotics. Rick enjoyed living and working in close proximity to his brother as he had a falling out with his father soon before he got the job. Eventually his brother got married and had a kid, named Kevin. One day, however only a few months after Kevin’s birth, his wife left in the middle of the night without a trace. So Kevin grew up with his father and his “cool uncle Rick.” Often Kevin would stay with Rick while his father was on space missions. This prompted him to develop an extreme love for anything and everything space. But one typical two week visit with his uncle became a permanent one. Rick had no idea what to do when he found out that his brother went missing in space. He was torn between grieving and figuring out a how to take care of Kevin. He was supposed to be “Cool uncle Rick.” The guy his nephew would hangout with, while his father was busy, not the kids primary caretaker. And the hardest part was figuring out a way to tell the kid his father wasn’t coming home. In the end he tried to explain that his father was now in space living amongst the stars. He hoped the kid understood the metaphor. But instead it just turned Kevin’s interest in space into an infatuation with going to space. Regardless, Rick managed to make the new situation work. Though taking care of Kevin by himself often ment bringing Kevin to Aperture’s daycare center when he couldn’t find a baby sitter.

Around this time employees began to seemingly disappear out of thin air. Due to the fact that Rick was on the lower end of Aperture’s personality core project he never knew the real reason. He just provided the blueprints for the cores and checked them over when they were done. He never picked up on the fact that their personalities seemed a bit too human. One day about several years after his brother’s death and only a few days after the CEO of Aperture’s, someone very important stopped showing up to work. Caroline was one of the few people at that facility who actually listened to what he had to say and didn’t just brush him off. Plus he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t developed a small crush on her. First Rick asked Craig if he knew anything, to which he received a curt “no.” Figuring Craig was just being himself, Rick began asking around with the higher ups. All of whom seemed to side step the question, say that she must have quit, or claimed they were too busy with Aperture’s new, biggest project GLaDOS. Eventually Rick was forced to drop it.

Craig was more involved in the higher ups of the personality core and GLaDOS projects. Thus, meaning that he knew the scientists were getting more desperate in using cores to control GLaDOS as well as which employees were up next for the trials. Apparently asking around about the disappearance of a higher up at Aperture was a sensitive subject. So when Craig heard who the project’s next test subject was, he immediately went to warn him. If anyone asked, Craig hated his coworker Rick, but in reality the two had formed a begrudging friendship. Plus the fact that Rick had a nephew to care for, didn’t make the decision to use him as a test subject sit well with Craig. Craig tried to warn Rick as best he could, without divulging the warning’s motive. But saying that Rick should quit immediately for no reason and leave Aperture pissed Rick off for some reason.

The next day when Rick went to work, Craig wasn’t at his desk, and Craig was always at his desk. This made Rick extremely worried. No matter how mad he was after their recent exchange; the guy never missed work, not even for sick days. This time he was more forceful in his questioning, demanding to know the reason for his friend’s disappearance. But the only answers he received were shrugs and suggestions that he get back to work.

By this point he was fully aware something real bad was going on, and was really reluctant to bring Kevin in with him the next day. But he couldn’t find a babysitter and he couldn’t leave the kid alone. After dropping off Kevin at the daycare center, he went to his desk. As he looked up from putting his “adventure” hat in the lower drawer of his desk, he saw two men in lab coats standing beside him. One addressed him by name and asked him to follow them for a scheduled testing session(something that employees were often asked to do every so often). However, Rick had a bad feeling about it and was reluctant to go. The two Scientists tried to restrain him, but he managed to fight them off. Once free his next thought was to find his nephew and get out. But before he could take another step a needle was injected into his neck and everything went dark.

The Scientists knew they had been too careless, when a daycare employee approached them. It was the end of the day and the employee asked when one of the young boys’ uncle would be arriving to pick him up. They were desperate. The GLaDOS project was failing and they needed to cover up any loose ends that could possibly lead to the beyond unethical actions of the project being released to the public. So they followed the daycare employee to the center and found the boy sitting at a table playing with a rocket ship. Recognizing the lab coat attire as one that his uncle often wore Kevin asked where his uncle was. In response the scientists offered to take the boy to his uncle.

The last three cores were hastily made. They were full of bugs and sported the personalities of Fact, Adventure, and Space(if one could even call those personalities). It was no surprise that they didn’t work when GLaDOS was booted up. The scientists were running out of ideas, and began to think the project a failure. Until one of the younger scientist by the name of Dr. Doug Rattmann offendedly and sarcastically mentioned using artificial intelligence based personality cores instead. Much to his dismay the scientists took his idea. They had enough data collected from the numerous personality core tests, that they could easily develop an AI software. Perhaps using AI would be better for managing a Human based robot, rather than other human based robots. The first test was run using a core with a focus on curiosity. GLaDOS lasted a whole quarter of a second before trying to kill the scientists. The test was a success and it looked like with just a few more cores, the scientists could get the machine under control.

#portal 2 #portal 2 headcannons #I know some things are a little off from cannon #but hey that’s why these are headcannons #and are done just for fun #portal stories: mel #fact core #rick the adventure core #space core #virgil portal

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katsidhe · 4 years ago

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could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in.

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen. I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters.

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy.

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel’s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

#9.10 #final thoughts #I have even more to say tbh #sam and cas #sam and dean #dean and cas #sam and gadreel #sam and crowley #sam and possession #sam and abuse #dean and self-hatred #sam and forgiveness #sam and mindscapes #sam and trauma #blahdose

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quidfree · 3 years ago

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can you Please write the scene with bakugou's piercing SGDHEFEH the concept is too funny to me !!!

anon you’re lucky 報復性熬夜 is a concept i am firmly attached to so here i am at 1 am rattling this off instead of getting my beauty sleep. please excuse the standard of writing as a result

by the second day, katsuki is seriously considering agreeing to todoroki’s earlier and ambiguously sincere proposal that they play i spy.

he doesn’t know what it is about this particular job that’s so unbearable. no, scratch that- of course he knows what’s unbearable; it’s sat right next to him on a too-small chair in their too-small room staring impassively out of a too-small window. but he’s been thrown into so much shit with icyhot you’d think he’d developed some kind of immunity by now, the way vaccines microdose you on viruses so you can resist the real thing. call katsuki an antivaxxer, he guesses, because he has overdosed on todoroki ever since he met the asshole and he’s still not ready for how far up the wall he’s driving him when they’re stuck together for two straight days without a breather or any contact with the outside world.

cards on the table: stake-outs aren’t his thing. he does them just fine, fuck you very much, but he doesn’t like ‘em. why would he? they’re some ungodly blend of extremely boring and extremely tense, where nothing happens right up until way too long into it and then everything goes to shit unprompted. it’s rare he ever gets called in on jobs like this- people tend to assume he lacks the temperament for it, for one, and for another he’s too useful to lock away for days on end. it’s only because their suspected target is so insanely volatile and dangerous that it’s the two of them waiting for her to show her ugly face- no one else is even allowed in the perimeter. which is fucking fine, but he just wishes the cops would get their shit together for once and actually have the proof ready by the time they call the pros in so he doesn’t have to wait before he goes in guns blazing. instead they talked some bullshit about how critical of a stage this was and blah blah fifteen years of (obviously mediocre) work had gone into setting this trap, etc etc. the point is that it’s led to katsuki stuck in the world’s most disgusting little apartment, staring out of a splintered window for two-going-on-three days with no one but the world’s most annoying prodigy to keep him company. the place is such a dump they’re sleeping on mats in sleeping bags. it’s like fucking UA summer camp, and at this point he’d take the kidnapping over the waiting.

day one wasn’t so bad, right up until he realized there would be a day two. day two is bad from start to finish. they’re supposed to take turns on watch but there’s fuck all else to do except sit on their phones, and katsuki can only quote tweet so much dumb shit before he gets bored. he can’t talk to anyone outside because of confidentiality bullshit, and there’s no point checking work shit when he can’t do anything from where they are. so it’s either silently watching the warehouse or talking to todoroki, and todoroki is a fucking terrible conversationalist.

the thing with icyhot is this: katsuki doesn’t hate him, okay. like, he hates him, but also not really. they’re, at a push, maybe, sort of, friends. verging on close ones. not that he’d say so, but after the amount of dramatic self-sacrifices and final stands against a joint enemy they’ve endured he can’t really muster the energy to argue otherwise. todoroki’s tolerable, sort of maybe. usually katsuki borderline likes working with him, because if nothing else he’s good at what he does, and they know each other too well to be anything but in sync in the field. if they were doing almost anything else he’d be relieved at the choice of pairing.

they are not, however, doing anything else, and todoroki still fucking sucks at talking like a normal person. when he’d woken katsuki up for his shift of night-watch he’d loomed over him ominously like a fucking ghoul and said, voice belying no humor: “do you think plants can feel pain?”

there’s fucking nothing to talk about. anything interesting is essentially vetoed because it’d inevitably distract them from the whole intent observation thing, and katsuki hates small talk on a normal day but especially when todoroki’s doing his ‘alien attempting earth dialect’ bit and asking him about weather or the tokyo transportation system or whatever. so they just sit in semi-silence and occasionally go on very stupid tangents katsuki is glad no one can witness and remain overall bored out of their fucking skulls.

by day three they’ve already exhausted i spy and also the alphabet game and hangman, and katsuki draws the line at tic-tac-toe. todoroki looks implacable as always but his eye has started twitching a little. katsuki tries to think of literally anything that could plausibly take up their time and not take their eyes off the window, comes up short. twister is not a good idea even ignoring their lack of a board. shop talk is so very tempting, but he’s not losing this villain and wasting two days’ suffering because they get carried away on some long-winded discussion, so that’s not an option either.

“how’s your ear?” todoroki says, and at first katsuki thinks he’s really fucking lost it if he’s started asking after the wellbeing of his individual body parts, but then he remembers the last time they saw each other katsuki was throwing himself into the path of some jackass with a trumpeting quirk who nearly blew out his eardrum, so he guesses half ‘n half’s not entirely insane yet. he shrugs, shifts in his chair.

“fine. couldn’t hear shit from it for like three straight days, though. and my balance was fucked.”

“it hasn’t scarred at all.”

“yeah. lame place for a scar,” katsuki says, flexing his fingers absently. they’re all of them more roughed up than they were at UA, but talent and good healers have kept him mostly intact, give or take a few big nasties like the time he got gutted in first year or his near loss of an eye around graduation. privately he suspects genetics have dealt him a good hand, what with his gene donor’s perfect skin, but then todoroki doesn’t have that excuse and he’s not scarred anywhere ugly except the obvious, though katsuki could point blind to most of the nasties he’s accumulated under his suit.

not that he thinks about what’s under todoroki’s suit. god, he needs to get out of here.

“i don’t know,” todoroki is saying now, thoughtful. “a lot of people have ear-scars, no? from piercings.”

“that’s different,” katsuki says, immediately contrarian, even as he thinks about it. by the warehouse a truck stalls, but then moves on, lessening his momentary excitement. “most people don’t let that shit heal. unless you’re a moron there’s no point getting a hole jabbed through your ear if you’re not sure you want it.”

“would you?” todoroki asks, mildly curious, and taps his ear where katsuki can see him in the window’s reflection. “get a piercing, i mean.”

“what’s it to you?”

todoroki rolls his eyes at him like he’s being pointlessly difficult, which he maybe is a little. “i don’t know. i think it would suit you.”

“yeah?” katsuki sniffs, mollified and trying not to show it. it’s always a mistake to let icyhot know when his obvious ploys are working. “been thinking about it?”

“i can hardly sleep at night for thinking about it,” todoroki deadpans, which makes katsuki scowl and stomp down on the extremely unwarranted flush crawling up his neck in response.

“fuck off. i guess i’d do like one or two.”

“really? you always say no to tattoos.”

“that’s different. i don’t trust some asshole to draw a fucking infinity sign on my knee or whatever. sticking a hole through an ear is hard to fuck up, and you barely register it after. if you get a shitty tattoo you have to think about it all the time.”

“if it’s easy then why don’t you have any?” todoroki asks, but he sounds genuinely curious more than like he’s trying to catch him out, so katsuki thinks about it honestly.

“don’t have the time. ‘s not like i can really afford to pencil in an afternoon to the nearest parlor or whatever just for that.”

“i read you can pierce your ears with a needle.”

“i guess i haven’t fucking thought about it that much, then,” katsuki grumbles, forever irked by todoroki’s smart mouth. problem solver his ass. the guy goes around making problems for everyone.

they sit in silence for a beat, watching the breeze rattle the wooden planks barricading a window opposite them, and then he thinks needle, and does some very quick mental arithmetics to reach the conclusion that todoroki is probably also landing on, judging by the way he blinks when katsuki briefly glances his way.

he thinks about the job, and how close he’d come to throttling todoroki during i spy, and the great dawning nothingness ahead of them for fuck knows how long still. at the very worst, they have to start moving with a needle in his ear.

“pass me your medikit.”

todoroki does, but when katsuki unzips the pack he shifts. “it’d be easier if i did it.”

“it’s not rocket science,” katsuki mutters, considering the needle critically before glancing back out of the window. “'s not like i give a shit about precise location.”

“i’m just saying i wouldn’t have to go in blind. and you can keep watch while i do it.”

“or you can keep watch while i do. same shit.”

todoroki only shakes his head, because unlike some people who shall not be named he is not so incredibly psychosexually attached to offering help where it isn’t wanted. “fine.”

katsuki eyes the window, squints at his ear. tissue’s the best bet- he thinks he could probably manage cartilage fine, but on the off chance they have to drop everything and run he doesn’t want to accidentally snap a bone and start the fight inconvenienced. lobe it is.

“wait,” todoroki says, just when he’s focused, and then reaches over without removing his gaze from the window to press two fingers to the needle, tip going blisteringly red-hot before he releases it. cauterised. their kit’s sterilised anyway, but katsuki grunts his begrudging thanks, repositions himself.

“wait,” todoroki says again, and this time katsuki can’t help but turn to glare at him where he’s still watchfully staring outside.

“fucking what, icyhot?”

“two seconds,” todoroki promises, gaze flickering his way for half a second with something like self-effacing amusement before he turns his eyes dutifully away and reaches his other arm around to pinch his ear, which flares cold so quickly katsuki hisses even as his cheeks heat. fucking weirdo.

“could’ve just said,” he mutters, ignoring his not at all jumpy pulse to refocus on the task at hand as todoroki does that obnoxious lip-twitch thing that means he’s smiling internally.

physics dictates that he keep his wrist at an angle if he wants the needle to come out right, so he does, braces and jabs. it goes so easy he almost doubts his own success, not even the slightest twinge of pain ensuing. he twists for good measure, removes the needle, watches tiny beads of blood emerge from the piercing.

well, that was anticlimactic, katsuki thinks, retrieving an anti-bacterial wipe for the needle, and then pauses, staring at the window.

“motherfucker.”

“what?”

“what the fuck am i supposed to put through this?”

todoroki’s mismatched eyes go gratifyingly wide in the window, and for one spectacularly braindead moment two of the world’s most outstanding pro-heroes stare at one another in a shitty broken window with equal amounts of retroactive dismay.

“um,” todoroki says, or as close to ‘um’ as todoroki will ever say. katsuki wishes dearly he was still of an age where he could throw him through a wall. then his eyes focus elsewhere, sharpening with what could pass as professional focus but is mostly naked relief. “um.”

um in-fucking-deed. by the warehouse, a door has just opened a sliver.

“you owe me a fucking earring,” katsuki declares, but so fast it lacks any aggression, already halfway out the window by the time he finishes speaking, atrophied limbs reviving with an ecstatic chemical burn as fresh air hits their faces.

god. if he ever gets stuck on stake-out duty again he’s sleeping by himself under a parked car or some shit.

they make disgustingly quick work of the fight, in the end, days of pent-up frustration and skull-numbing boredom leaving them so bursting with power that it’s almost embarrassing for the villain, but when the first kow-towing police officer reaches them full of praise and suggestion that they handle another job he has queued up they chorus a ‘no’ so violent the guy actually jumps.

todoroki’s not so bad, katsuki thinks fondly, watching his face slide into frigid blankness with absolutely no idea of how shitless he’s scaring the officers around them. it’s almost enough to make him forget to kick his ass for the enormously shitty banter he’d had to endure vis-a-vis his still-bleeding ear throughout the entire tragically short fight.

almost. not quite. who even knew there was a ‘gay ear’?

#qui parle #qui ecrit #anon #todobaku #bnha #tdbk

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sebbytrash · 4 years ago

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Through His Eyes - Part Twenty (The End)

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - The end.

A/N - Gah. I’m literally at a loss for words. This is almost 3 years in the making. My life has changed drastically since I started this. (I’m a mom, yikes.) I can’t thank you enough for all the wonderful support on this one. It was truly a piece of my heart in words. So yes, the end is here and it’s a little bitter sweet but I might visit these two again one day. I hope this is everything you have been waiting for. <3

HUGE thank you to my other half @manawhaat for her exceptional Betaing as always

Through His Eyes Masterlist

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky asks, not for the first time, glancing worriedly down at your forearm.

“The surest.” You reassure him, fix him with your best full wattage smile and roll your sleeve up the rest of the way. The skin tingles in anticipation, or dread, and your heart thumps readily in your chest. It’s time, it says with each beat.

At your nod, the needle descends and the first painful line of change begins. Bucky shudders at the noise and keeps his eyes on yours, or more accurately, keeps them anywhere but on that needle.

“You know, for an Avenger, you sure are squeamish,” you joke, grab his hand and give it a squeeze when he doesn’t smile back. “It’s just a tattoo, Bucky. Barely even registers.” The tattoo artist catches your eye with a soft smile and you roll your eyes in a playful isn’t-my-boyfriend-cute kinda way. Boyfriend, yeah, it still feels weird to think it, let alone say it. Truthfully, the word doesn’t even come close to what he is to you. The word simply doesn’t exist.

“I know, I know,” the boyfriend in question says, “I just hate the look of it, s’all.” His mouth twists in that way that tells you he's still concerned and is probably going to be the entire time so you should just let him.

This moment was a long time coming. You had thought and thought about getting your scars covered, these ones in particular that made wearing short sleeves a nightmare unless you wanted to flash an unintentional Nazi neon to anyone in a 2 metre radius. At first, you held on to them as a reminder, something to keep your heart cold and cruel, and then you held onto them as a shield, something to keep you from growing and forgetting, to keep you from leaving that part of you behind and finding out what was left without it. Now, you ache to transform, to strip away the last of the darkness and move forward with the growing light. That light that Bucky has shined into your life with that stubborn heart and those same unrelenting eyes that warily watch you close this chapter of your life. It will always be with you, be a part of you, but you no longer want it to be you.

The tattoo itself, flowers chosen for their meaning, would now flow up your forearm with a soft wind replacing the haphazardly cruel branding you endured. Daffodils, meaning rebirth or new beginnings, and Irises for hope. Steve and Wanda had helped you with the design, the former brushing off his old drawing skills to do so and Tony had acquired the artist. Lee, a tall, severe looking man with the softest smile you’d ever seen on someone with a shaved head and ear gauges. He was kind and funny, and everything you needed to put yourself entirely in his hands with this precious piece of your history.

It takes roughly four hours and Bucky is tense for every single minute of them. Lee spends half his time smirking at you when Bucky starts pacing again or sighs a little too deeply, his intense discomfort is nothing short of hilarious in the end. The finished piece is breathtaking, Lee has taken Steve’s sketch and created something so incredible, you feel the breath forcibly taken from your lungs and words from your mouth.

“Wow. It’s perfect, Lee.” You stare at it unblinking before glancing at him. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” He nods with quiet understanding and busies himself tidying his workstation. You turn to Bucky, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes and you try haplessly to blink them away, a few escape and Bucky steps up close to catch them with his thumb. His eyes reflect yours, and you wonder if it feels as significant to him as it does to you, looking at your arm and seeing that journey etched in colour, bright and beautiful and on display.

Bucky lets out a breath so large, it’s like he's held it the entire day. "It's beautiful," he says, after a long minute, "It's you."

It's still dark when you are catapulted from sleep, your sweet dreams stolen from underneath you in a swift movement just like the blanket so often is by your bedmate. It takes a second for the sound to match what you see, for you put the pieces of your reality together like a puzzle. He's dreaming again, Bucky, a bad one from the sounds being torn from his throat.

He's rigid beside you, muscles and ligaments all turned to stone despite his obvious turmoil. You suspect that it's a part of him that holds on to a sliver of reality, that fights to ensure he doesn't harm you, even now, when he's asleep. It doesn't shock you to discover that even unconscious, he's the best man you know.

"No. Stop. I can't." He says and the words curdle in the air. You wondered if this would happen, after today and his reaction to the tattoo. His need to protect you runs bone deep and so it’s impossible to run from the dreams on the days he considers you hurt, or hurting.

You smooth a hand over his face, gently and coaxing, "Shhh, Bucky. I'm right here. I'm with you, I'm safe." The magic words, you'd discovered, were less about his own safety and more about yours. Buttery promises that melt right through the brickhouse dream and pull him back to you.

He wakes slowly, blinks up at you with those sea storm eyes, rides the crest of a wave in between realities and then blinks again and lets the waters crease and slow, settle into a soft hum. You place a kiss to his brow and leave to grab him a glass of water, giving him a minute to settle so that he isn’t forced to look at you before he’s ready. When you return he's sitting up against the headboard with his body tilted like he's waiting for you to slot right in. He downs the whole glass quickly and then grants you a smile, the smile, the one that makes electricity wake up in the morning.

"Do you need anything?" You ask, like you always do, letting your fingers lace with his.

"Just you," he answers, pulls you gently to him so he can tuck your head under his chin and his fingers slot against your ribs, let's his breathing slow to match yours and his heartbeat to follow suit.

It's what you do for each other, when the need arises. Just quiet understanding and quiet support. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, you no longer feel like it's going to strip the skin from your bones or send you plunging into the dark. Now it feels like stitching a wound shut, or rubbing an aching muscle, leaning on each other in a truly honest way despite everything, or maybe because of everything, and it's...nice. There’s not a single part of you that you have to hide from him, or him from you, and that feeling is measureless. There were stars living inside your chest, burning furious and bright, a sunshine heart and a moonlit soul.

You stay that way long after sleep steals you both back, tangled limbs and tangled scars, and tangled hearts.

In the morning, his tired eyes are not weary, as they once might have been after such a night. Instead, they hold a promise of a smile inside, the saltwater seas are waveless. His smile comes easily, harbouring a quiet joy he has not yet shared and so you're helpless, swept away in it as his lips take your reason captive. He stops to look at you and you look back at this resilient, gentle man who didn’t try to hide or reconcile all the complex truths inside himself, just simply existed exactly as he was.

“What’s got your face looking like that?” You ask, letting your fingers slide along his jaw in a lazy, familiar way.

“Just realised somethin’” He smiles like he has the answer to a question you forgot to ask, continues when you raise your brows at him, “Bob isn’t sharing the bed anymore.”

Oh.

It’s true, you’d finally found yourself ready to put your gun into an actual gun safe and not within 2 metres of you at all times. Since the great revelation, as you so often thought of it as, you’d taken Sam up on his offer to join him down at the VA for the group sessions, finally unburdening yourself in a more controlled and productive way, taking your own small steps to recovery. It’s not a journey, the voice of Sam scolds, it’s a state of being. One you need to work on every day.

You make a noise of agreement. “Yeah. Didn’t really need him there anymore.” You admit, press a quick kiss to his lips and say, “Besides, they would need to get through you first. That’s why you sleep closest to the door.”

He laughs and smiles sheepishly, the admission dies on his tongue when you hush it with yours, the curve of his mouth when it smiles simply too tempting not to taste.

“There you go,” Wanda says as she zips your dress. “You’re ready.”

And you were ready. It was a date, a real date in a real restaurant with real people around you. You and Bucky had lived inside a bubble, protected and cosy, all bed covers and armchairs, netflix and books. He decided, or was reminded, that there were other ways to spend his time with you and tonight was to be the first. The first official date. It was exciting, and nerve wracking, and you tried not to hang your fate against the success of one night.

“Yeah,” you agree, let the hum of unreleased adrenaline settle over your bones in anticipation, “I’m ready.”

You're halfway to the door when you stop, sudden, and hastily turn back to your dresser, rummaging around with abandon until you find it. You gasp in triumph, clutch the glass bottle in hand and show it to Wanda.

“I haven’t worn it yet,” you explain when she casts you a confused glance. “I guess I was saving it.”

Hope. The scent you’d purchased all those months ago when Bucky had first arrived, when you’d felt the very first flutterings of it within your chest before you even recognised what it was. It feels apt to wear it tonight when all that hope has become reality.

“Hmm, well now does seem perfect, right?” She looks at you that way she sometimes does when her face turns into a mirror for your own feelings. It still makes you blink a few times, even now, when the feelings are joyful.

When you make it to the door this time, you hesitate, hand gripping the cold handle long enough for Wanda to softly clear her throat. She doesn’t ask, but then again she probably already knows. It’s been a while since you’ve worn anything this nice, the dress is really nothing fancy, it’s flattering and comfortable, but still entirely different to your usual workout clothes and lounge wear that Bucky usually sees you in. It still makes your hands clench and your heart flutter with nerves, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of feeling self-conscious. The same man has seen your very soul, after all.

He’s waiting for you with Steve, his back to you as you approach and so you have a few sweet seconds to admire the sturdiness of his shoulders in the shirt, how the fabric stretches and clings to his broad back and thick arms. Steve smiles when he sees you coming, gives Bucky a nudge and then watches him turn to you with barely contained glee.

When Bucky finally sees you, he looks at you with such fierce want, and love, that you nearly buckle at the sight of it. He smiles the smile that carves roots in your bones and stars in your heart. It’s only when you draw closer that you see your own eyes reflected in his, see yourself looking at him the way he’s looking at you.

“You look beautiful.” He says, quietly and just for you.

“Thank you.” You finally tear your eyes from his long enough to do a leisurely sweep of him, taking in that shirt and dress pants combo that somehow looks like it was how he looked all along, made for it. “You do, too.”

He laughs, like you intended, reaches out to clasp your hand in his without thought and those two actions combined are threatening to let too much of that feeling leak out of your chest, the one that reminds you that you need him too much, love him too much. It’s still terrifying, this kind of love.

You hate it. You don’t.

The restaurant is small, a quiet but cosy kinda place that has more candles than menus and serves things called “Mom’s soup special”. Its soft lighting combines spectacularly with the coved tables, each individual one a private getaway that’s filled with fluttering lashes and toothy smiles. Bucky ushers you forward and tucks your seat behind you as you sit, the gesture all too natural for him and not all like the forced way you’ve witnessed so many people do it before.

“This place is amazing,” you say, still glancing around with wonder hanging off your eyelashes, “how did you find it?”

“Oh, uh, Sam suggested it, actually.” He admits, tucks his chin a little before adding, “Haven’t actually been out to eat since, you know, melting.”

You blink at him stupidly, eyebrows gathering up into a frown. “But, didn’t you live in Europe? And Wakanda?”

“Yeah. Romania. Well, I was on the run so it was mostly tins of beans and whatever fruit I could find,” he explains, nothing of the painful memories showing on his face, even if they show on yours, “Wakanda was different. I spent a lot of time in the lab, and when I wasn’t, I didn’t exactly socialise. I wasn’t what you would call, fit for the public eye.”

You reach across the table to take his hand in yours, try not to squeeze it as tight as your chest is squeezing your heart. “I’m glad you're here,” you say, still marvelling at the ease at which he now opens up to you, how these things don’t drag you both down into the dark. “I’m glad I get to share this with you.”

He smiles, soft and pleased, “There’s no one I’d rather share it with, sweetheart.”

The pet name, or perhaps the casualness in the way he says it, makes your heart stumble in your chest. Once, a gesture like that would have felt entirely foreign to you, probably even a little pointless, but when it rolls off his tongue with such tenderness you find yourself with sudden understanding that no amount of Hollywood movies could ever show you.

If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t say anything. The rest of the meal is spent with easy laughter and enthusiastic eating, the staff leave you mostly alone but you catch more than one with a small, knowing smile on their face when they do approach. Caught in the feeling between you, your happiness that bubbles over and spills into every passing person so that their smiles mirror your own.

You had spent so long denying yourself, and Bucky, these feelings that the now freely given love is pouring, uncontainable, from you both with such force that you can barely stand it. All that effort that went into holding back, denying, did not transfer because in truth, loving Bucky was no effort at all.

You share a dessert, Bucky coming round the table to join you in what was surely just an excuse to be close, arm draped along the back of your chair, touching from knee to hip. You lean into him, letting his body heat soak into yours and his metal fingers dance along your shoulder. It’s quietly euphoric, and you know he feels it, too.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this.” You admit, turning so you can see his eyes when the words take shape, watching as those seas rumble against your meaning.

“Me neither.” He admits right back, turning to look at you the way he so often does, captures your mouth in a kiss, a lifetime's worth of affection hidden in the curve of his mouth.

You didn’t believe in soulmates, not really, but as you lay back against his chest and feel his heartbeat on your back, feel the way the beats of his match the beats of yours so precisely, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might.

Or perhaps, Fate saw the damage you’d both done to each other and decided to forcibly fuse those souls together. That those matching scars would fit perfectly together and prevent you both from spilling out onto any of her other plans or people.

As someone once said, “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, whispers I love you in your ear and you think that you don’t care if it’s soul mates or fated or not. You know that you’d choose him every time. A fate selected by your own hand, or heart, and worth far more than dreams of paths forged for you.

TAGS: @manawhaat @theashhole @captainrogerss @higherfurtherfasterbby @peculiar-persephone @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco @howlingbarnes @poealsobucky @samingtonwilson @vintagevalentinexx @abovethesmokestacks @imhereforbvcky @avengerofyourheart @stormy-thomas @danijimenezv @angelicthor @betheboo55 @palaiasaurus64 @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @johnmurphys-sass @katbird787 @sexyvixen7 @jobean12-blog @justreadingfics @justareader @smoothdogsgirl @theliarone @aikibriarrose @timeladylaurel @badassbakers @earinafae @tardis-is-mine @httpmcrvel @bucky2-0 @mocking-rain @sociallyimpairedme @jezzula @bless-my-demons @ign-is @indominusregina @-supernatural-coffee-llama @alwayshave-faith @shifutheshihtzu @mizzzpink @yknott81 @haven-in-writing @xtina2191 @reniescarlett @notsoprettykitty @wickedwerewolf @tatalopes23 @pineapplebooboo @mizzezm @thefridgeismybestie @memory-of-a-goldfish @supernatural-girl97 @standing-onthe-edge @ruinerofcheese @mysweetcookie99

#through his eyes #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic

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papermonkeyism · 4 years ago

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Can i ask what it was like getting your dino tattoo? (very pretty, I'm jealous!) I'm thinking of getting a chest tattoo a similar size eventually, but i've also heard its one of the more painful places to get one. Sorry if you've posted about this before or anything!

Five hours of needling in two sittings! (first was three hours, then two more hours after two weeks of healing in between)

When the tattoo machine worked over pectoral muscle it wasn't too bad. Sure, it feels like vibrating scratching, and going over parts already done to darken them can be kinda bad, but the muscle cushions you to some degree. Sternum has no muscle, so the machine gun needle will be drilling almost directly on bone, which hurts more (the fern being big and black was fun... On a plus side, now I have most of my sternum tattooed, so there's less chance I'll do that again!), the small bit going into armpit area was pretty horrible, and the absolute worst part was the twigs and flower edge that were done on boob territory. Because a machine needle repeatedly stabbing you in a boob with pressure is baaaaaaaad. Never gonna tattoo a boob, personally, ever again. So much hurt. I've heard collar bone is also a bad place to be tattooed on, but my dinosaur only has the frill horns around that area and I barely noticed any difference to the pectoral cushion.

Also a variable I didn't think to take into account in advance is that this particular tattoo consists kinda entirely on relatively thin lineart, which means thinner, stabbier tattooing blade. I have another tattoo that was done mostly with a wider tip with more needles, so the pressure was spread over a larger area at once, which eased things considerably. Also that one is mostly gradient, not solid black, which also helps (to get the black solid, the same area might have to be gone over for multiple times for even results).

Oh, also afterwards, when I left the tattoo studio with freshly needled and taped tattoo, I was, for a while, super aware of my own boob turbulence. Bouncing blobs pulling the skin with every step, you know. Although at that point I was still riding the adrenaline high, so my memories are more humorous than horrified.

Still, it wasn't as bad as getting my foot tattooed! Well, maybe the boob bit, but it was significantly faster than the foot. Although, for me personally being able to see the tattoo being done makes it easier to ignore the pain. Like, staring at the foot being tattooed and concentrating on lying to myself how "she's just drawing on my foot, look at the art happen" and vehemently avoiding thinking of it as needles piercing the skin did wonders. Couldn't do that with the chest.

What else... Oh, it's recommended you don't take painkillers, as aspirin and the likes thin your blood, which might make your tattoo bleed. Your tattoo will be oozing tissue fluids at first anyway, you don't want blood in that mix if you want to keep the ink IN your skin. Speaking of oozing fluids, the first time you wash your brand new tattoo is likely to be kinda gross, but that's fine.

Um, remember to eat before to keep your blood sugar good, and bringing snacks is fine.

Ooh, and wear clothing where it's easy to reveal the tattooable area, and maybe not your most fave one. I wore an old string top (is that the word?), which still has tattoo ink stains around the neckline. That stuff does not wash off.

Also, another thing that didn't work in my favor that the dinosaur was tattooed in july, and took a month to heal (two weeks after each needling session), which also happened to be the hottest heat wave of the year. The fresh tattoo must be protected from direct sunlight, so no revealing clothing, only high necked shirts, and swimming is forbidden, so I couldn't sink my sweating hide into the nearest lake, no matter how much I wanted to.

Absolutely worth it, though.

TLDR: eh, chest is fine. Pectoral is comfiest, sternum is kinda bad, armpit is not nice and boob is absolutely horrible. Wear comfy clothes, and good luck!

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azure-steel · 3 years ago

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So it’s munday, and I’m not really about the selfie game because I’m kinda ugly and no one wants to see that xD

So, instead I’mma share a couple stories from my job (Well... bad clients I’ve had, names omitted of course~) under the cut because people have this misconception that what I do is like a rockstar’s job and is all kinds of glamorous, I can promise you it really isn’t~

If you haven’t read my rules page yet (tsk tsk, you should!) then know that I’m a tattoo artist at a relatively successful little town shop in the centre of the UK. I’m fairly busy and have a pretty good client base. I don’t own the business, I just work under that particular banner. For the most part my days are pretty uneventful and chill but there are the odd times when things can go a little wayward.

Anyway, onto story time:

1 - THE NIPPLE MAN

Ugh... this guy lol. Okay, so in short he’s a lil bit kinky and he comes to us once every few months asking that we “level up” his areola. For whatever reason he’s convinced that his nipples drop - yeah, DROP... W H A T??? - over time and start to look uneven or unsymmetrical.

This confused us all because we could never see an issue so we asked him (regrettably) why he thought this. Turns out he has a kink for his boyfriend SWINGING OFF HIS NIPPLES (his words not mine) which causes them to droop. Like... dude... that isn’t how this works but okay, whatever. He has areola the size of digestive biscuits now. They do not look good but he thinks they look amazing.

to each their own I suppose.

2. THE PASSER OUTTER

Okay, so I’ve had my fair share of these. It happens, people get all worked up and nervous and sometimes tend to black out during the process. It really isn’t that big of a deal but this instance I’m about to talk about has scarred me somewhat xD

It was her first tattoo, and she’s made the rookie error of watching tattoo horror stories on youtube of people generally not doing well under the needle prior to her appointment. So she’s nervous as all hell, but I sit her in my chair and I chat extensively about how it’s really not that bad. It’s more irritating than painful, like a cat scratch and that I’m there and her mom was only in the other room and everything will be fine. It was only some simple line art she was having anyway, a 20 minute job, tops.

WRONG!

She complains that she’s feeling weird about 3 minutes into the project, so I pull away, but before I manage to place my machine back onto the station she’s out for the count and slipping out of the chair. She was a big girl so the best I could do at that point was grab her legs with both arms and prop my leg on the chair to stop her hitting the floor like a sack of spanners. A few seconds go by, she comes to and I’m like “Hey there~ I lost you for a couple of seconds, you okay?” She says she’d like to sit out front with her mom for a little while so I help her into the front but she’s a bit dramatic about it. Whining, moaning and groaning that she’s not feeling well.

WELL. I go back to my work station just to make sure everything is in order and step in a puddle... ... when she’d passed out SHE’D PEED ALL OVER MY CHAIR AND ALL OVER THE FLOOR. I was, in short, utterly horrified that I now had to clean up this girls piss from around my work station and disinfect the entire area as well as myself and she hadn’t even the decency to tell me what had happened!

I go back out front and whisper to her mom what’s gone down and request that she go buy her daughter a new pair of pants because I can’t work on her again if she’s gonna be sitting in my chair with soiled pants.

That 20 minute job ended up taking me 4 fucking HOURS. I don’t think she’ll come back for more after that...

(I’ve also had a couple people literally throw up on me too but I won’t talk about those...)

3. STINKY MCSTINKERSON

Oh yes, I was a mere apprentice when I was subjected to this rather aromatic gentleman. My work mates called it my Initiation into the Tattooers Club, assholes.

Anyway, the guy poles in for his appointment, it was a warm day but the guy showed up wearing these odd plastic trousers (kind of like waterproofs you wear when riding a motorcycle in wet weather) and this thick fleece hoodie that was utterly ingrained with dog hair. The guy looked like he hadn’t had a bath for about 6 years and the SMELL hit you like a sledgehammer as soon as he walked in. I knew I was in for a bad time... he was booked in for 6 hours Dx

The design was to go on the back of his thigh, so I ask him to present the area to me so I could check the size of the piece. He just drops his pants right there in the reception area in front of EVERYBODY, us, clients... and he’s wearing these comic book underpants that were clearly made for a child and his ass cheeks were hanging out of them, it was a whole fucking mess.

I remember needing to have a few extra breaks just to get away from his stink and I broke down in tears half way through the day because it was just THAT BAD!

The piercer was shovelling mints down my throat all day to try and mask the smell and I threw myself so damn hard into that project that guy left with one of the best tattoos I’d ever done!

I love my job, I do, I will never do anything else, but it really isn’t as cool as people think xD

#{Mako stripped - OOC}#munday things #tattoo shit #me ranting about clients mostly #well my most memorable ones #I do have more stories than just these though #tip of the iceburg~

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theladysexpistol · 4 years ago

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Hi! I love your writing and I’m wondering if you could do a one shot of Risotto wakeing up from a one night stand with s/o in bed. And you know the phrase every action has a consequence? Could the consequence be s/o pregnant?

I started this one super early because I was really intrigued by the concept and actually have not really written Ris like... ever

Again tried to make it suggestive and sexy like the Mista one where reader shaves his face, idk how successful I was 😬

This is probably the closest to smut I’ve had on my blog, so reader discretion advised!!

~~~

As the leader of Passione’s elusive La Squadra di Esecuzione, Risotto didn’t have time for relationships. Every single one he had tried had gone up in smoke. His work was more important to him than anything else, his team more important than anyone who could come along. Though he, like most but perhaps not all men, desired a sexual partner from time to time. He didn’t go to Passione parties often. But he went to this particular one.

You weren’t of much note in Passione, if you were being honest with yourself. A member of a team under Polpo’s jurisdiction, but you weren’t even the leader. You were a grunt - expendable, but vital to the gears that kept Passione churning money. You spent most of your days in the casinos of Milan, using your good looks to slip past the defenses of even the richest, most cautious members of Italian society, and wringing them for every penny they owed the mafia. It was work that consumed much of your life, and most relationships were out of the question when the men you dated learned you used your body for such a job. You weren’t usually needed or invited to parties hosted by Passione capos. But you were invited to this one.

The taste of expensive champagne was still on Risotto’s lips when he woke up. Lifting himself up onto his elbows, he glanced down to find he was naked. He gave a deep groan and reached to the top of his head, and could feel that his platinum hair was more messed up than a normal restless night of sleep warranted. He was in a bedroom he didn’t recognize. Upon hearing a soft breath, feeling it dust across his bicep, he glanced down at who he presumed was the owner of the apartment he found himself in.

When his eyes fell on you, the gaps in his memory slowly filled themselves in. He’d been bored as hell at the party the night before, and looking for an excuse to leave. It seems the two of you had migrated toward the same corner, you in order to avoid the drunk street thugs who thought they had a shot in hell with you, and him to avoid talking to anyone who wasn’t worth his time (which was most of Passione, he was quickly learning). Everyone else at the party was boring to him; but his eyes caught a glimpse of the beautiful skin exposed by your backless black dress, the way the straps crossed over your shoulder muscles reminded him of his preferred everyday look, as opposed to the restrictive suit he had begrudgingly put on. It was like you were purposely trying to draw his attention, and the thought of bruising up that flawless skin with his mouth turned him on in a way he hadn’t lusted after someone in a long time.

You had heard stories about the hitman team’s leader, but not a single one effectively communicated the experience of seeing him in person. Risotto was a hulking man, with an intense gaze that was only accentuated by his tattooed black sclera. Intimidating men didn’t scare you; they tried. But there was a strange sense of fear that struck you when those eyes looked over you. Like a predator hunting it’s prey, and it stirred a sick arousal from within you.

Flashes of words exchanged gave way to the sensation of his fingertips brushing over your bare skin. He lifted up one of the straps across your back and snapped it, reveling in the way it made you jump. He saw that fear and arousal in your eyes, and Risotto calmly responded by suggesting he bend you over the hors d'oeuvres table and take you there.

When his lips met your neck, you had honestly wanted him to do it.

Instead, you both went with the better option; ditching the rest of the party altogether.

He didn’t even know your name, and yet the two of you had gone for so long into the night, body to body, his cock sheathed all the way between your folds. The shape of your body, the way he could get such delicate sounds from you simply with his touch, the dirty things he whispered against you in that deep, baritone voice of his; Risotto played you as easily as a musician did their chosen instrument. The experience was unlike any other man you had ever gotten under, and you weren’t quite sure if you could ever go back. By the time you finished, you couldn’t count how many times he had brought you to climax, blinking back the stars that filled your vision when he’d released inside you. You were still dripping with his semen when the two of you had fallen asleep.

For a one-night stand, Risotto had been very careful and considerate of moving your body after the way he’d just fucked you.

That was how he found himself now, sitting up in your bed, under your sheets, next to you and watching you sleep. He’d made plenty of bad decisions before in his life, but this didn’t feel like one. There was a very good chance the two of you would never cross paths again; or maybe if you did, you’d enjoy a part two to this little escapade.

When you woke up, Risotto was still watching you with those dark, dark eyes of his. You’d barely blinked the sleep out of your eyes and muttered a good morning to the stranger in your bed when you were suddenly caged in again, staring up at the intense eyes of Risotto Nero once again. There was a hunger in them that you recognized.

“That’s certainly one way to wake up,” you teased him, enjoying the way his lips curled into a grin.

“You’re just so goddamn beautiful, I don’t think I can help it,” he growled, leaning down and wrapping his mouth around the exposed nipple of your breast.

Forget waiting for a part two. Why wait when you could continue where you left off last night the next morning?

~~~

“The boss has something on you.”

Those were the words of the goon that Risotto had forced to fix the burned picture of Venezia for him, moments after Risotto had created needles that buried out of the right side of his face, bloody and screaming in pain. He’d lost five members of his team, only hearing of Melone’s death some half an hour earlier when he sent Ghiaccio the restored picture. Almost all their hopes were riding on Ghiaccio’s ability to seize the girl - or whatever it was that the picture was telling them to look for at the gates.

Naturally a man with little patience, Risotto had sliced off his arm in response with a knife protruding from the man’s elbow.

“And do tell me,” he leaned in close, cold fury in his voice like the mafia capo he was. “What exactly is this weakness that I’m apparently unaware of?”

That was how he found himself barging into an abandoned apartment at 2am. Ghiaccio had been killed. He was all that was left of the hitman team. All their dreams, their desires to remove the boss for Sorbet and Gelato, it all rested on his shoulders.

All the more reason that he had to find whatever this was the boss apparently had over him, and snuff it out first.

There had clearly been a struggle here. Risotto didn’t understand; he didn’t have connections. His blood ran cold when he found a picture frame on the kitchen counter, smashed like it had been thrown and he recognized you. That beautiful stranger he’d slept with so many nights ago; but he still never learned your name, and as disappointed as he was the boss was using an innocent member of his own mafia as a hostage reminded Risotto just how sick and twisted his enemy was.

In the living room though, he found it. He found his weakness.

There were pictures of you, your family, but most importantly a little boy was in much of them. While he had the same shape as you, Risotto recognized the platinum hair and the crimson eyes on the boy. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind.

He’d had a son, who he didn’t even know about.

Risotto couldn’t help but shut down for a moment, any thoughts about revenge, about his team leaving his head. He’d had a son. Why hadn’t you told him? He was a Passione capo, and while he certainly didn’t get as much money as gambling or drugs did, he still could have given you a comfortable life. A life where he would’ve hid you and your son - his son - long before the boss‘ agents find you.

Instead he finds pictures of you working in a diner, presumably having left the mafia life to raise the child that had been his fault. He finds your apartment missing both of you. Risotto is overcome with not a sense of fatherhood, or duty to someone he met and spent a night with, but a sense of responsibility. He’s the reason that scum of the earth had taken an innocent infant boy hostage.

Risotto headed to Sardegna with more than vengeance on his mind. He’s going to find you or he’s going to kill the boss of Passione, whichever comes first.

#bree writes #jojo fanfiction #risotto x reader #risotto nero #spicyyyyy #😈😈😈#tw pregnancy #accidental pregnancy #request 💖

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

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The Dragon Egg (Part 1)

This is my (sort of late) entry for the @secrettunnelatla event.

Summary: Azula’s metal music career put in jeopardy when a careless afterparty leaves her unexpectedly pregnant with Chan’s baby. Meanwhile, Zuko struggles to overcome his addiction as he works to get his own band off the ground.

Content Warnings: Language, Teen Pregnancy, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, and Child Abuse.

It smells heavily of leather, disinfectant, and hand soap. Azula supposes that, that is a good thing. She tries not to twitch too much, but the discomfort is rather intense. More than intense, really. It is a mild, yet white hot pain. She tries to ignore the buzz of the needle and its attempts to remind her of its bite.

“First time?” Seicho asks.

Azula nods.

“You’re telling me that you can get a pair of snake bites, a brow piercing, and stretch your earlobes, but this is too much?”

Azula resists another flinch. “Piercings are quicker. The needle goes in…” she winces, “and then it comes out and it’s over.”

Seicho withdraws the tattoo gun for a shrug, “there’s no art to piercings.”

“Tell that to Mai.”

“She’s your bandmate, right?”

Azula shakes her head. “My brother’s girlfriend. She’s in his band.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I have my own band. We have a better sound and better lyrics.” She grips the edge edge of her chair. This time speaking ill of Zuko’s band isn’t a distraction enough. She isn’t sure why this is so hard for her. Chan and Ruon had gotten their ink without a hitch, and Ruon is a crybaby on a good day.

“Do you need a break?” The artist asks, withdrawing her tattoo gun. The hideous red, plastic cup that she wears as a necklace charm, bobs with the motion. Azula grits her teeth and shakes her head. If Ruon could get it done in one go then she can manage as well. By the end of it she will have a blue and gold scaled dragon curling around her arm and outlined with blue flame and lightning. And if she can manage it, twin dragonflies will shimmer on both of her shoulder blades.

The buzzing resumes and the pricking returns. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much as it does sting. And sometimes the stinging subsides for something more like a painful pressure. “Try to relax, it hurts more if you’re tense.” Seicho says.

“This isn’t exactly relaxing.” Azula frowns. The woman has finally finished the outline of the dragon. “And this chair isn’t comfortable either.” She may as well add that she is thirsty and hungry for good measure.

Seicho laughs, “I’ve had criers and fainters and a few boasting badasses, but I’ve never had a complainer.”

Azula frowns.

“If you want you can move to the bed.” She gestures to what looks like a dentist’s chair. “It has more padding and it’ll give your back a rest.”

“Alright.” While she is up she steals a drink from her water bottle. She tries to make herself as comfortable as possible on the bed. She hears the buzz of another tattoo gun on the other side of the parlor before Seicho’s comes to join it. Azula braces herself for more stinging.

“So what kind of music do you play?”

“Disco pop.” She answers flatly. Sehicho has to draw back and wait for her laughter to pass. “We play metalcore. But Chan and Ruon want to experiment with…” it takes all of her soul not to shudder, “surfer rock.” Granted she can respect it as a genre, it isn’t terrible and it would suit the two of them well. But she can’t see herself providing vocals for surf rock and she doesn’t quite fit the aesthetic. At least she has Zirin to back her up on that, and so the band is perfectly divided like that.

“That could be interesting.” Seicho comments.

“Does anything about me indicate that surf rock is a good fit for my talents?”

.oOo.

Seicho looks her client up and down. Azula is an attractive girl, that’s for sure, it is more than a pleasure sitting in her chair--the girl has a reputation for being very particular and picky.

She studies her for a moment longer; small and slender with the slightest muscle definition. Her eyes glitter with thick black eyeliner, shot with a line of neon blue. It’s elegantly dramatic against a soft helping of black eyeshadow. Her piercings glint silver in the light when she turns to watch Seicho work. She notices a septum ring as well. Her hair is styled with a neat undercut, someone has artfully worked fiery patterns into the shaved part.

“That’s fair.” Seicho comments at last. She isn’t sure that she should make any other comments on the girl’s appearance, lest she makes a blabbering fool of herself. She supposes that she has a weak spot for piercings and sideshaves. “I don’t think that I caught your band’s name.”

“Blue Talon.” She gestures to the outline of her dragon. She had specifically instructed Seicho to put emphasis on it’s inky talon.

“I’ll have to listen to some of your music.”

Azula nods. “Give yourself a taste of culture.”

She fixes her gaze on the screen of her phone. Seicho catches the name ‘Chan’ at the top of the screen and the words, ‘still up for tonight?’ Seicho brings her focus back to the tattoo and resumes her work.

It is an underappreciated art, she thinks. A misunderstood one. She doesn’t think that people understand just how brave one needs to be to decorate a person’s body. Doesn’t think that they see the value in what she does.

Her art has a weight to it, one that her canvases will carry with them forever. Her art comes with a story and her parchment is flesh. Some tales are as simple as a reminder of one impulse decision (perhaps good, perhaps bad) at the end of a wild night, the story of reckless youth and a fun time. While other stories are so deeply personal that even she doesn’t know the meaning behind the picture she has brought to life on the flesh.

The elegance of dragging needles over skin in careful curves and sturdy lines is an art in itself. It takes a steady and loving hand to guide the needle in exactly the right ways. Calligraphy is renowned and loved, it is classy. Seicho doesn’t think that her job is much different than than.

They say that it is a rough and reckless job. They can’t seem to grasp what tedious work it is. The special sort of carefulness that goes into laying ink onto skin. She supposes that they have taken and ran with stories of shady, cheap shops with unsterilized needles and infected basement tattoos done by best friends.

She draws back for a moment to dab some excess ink from Azula’s skin. “How are you feeling?” She checks in. Her client gives her a simple thumbs up. With it, Seicho continues. The tattoo begins to come to life now, with an enticing shade of deep blue. She takes care to keep it from marring the golden outline of the scales.

As she carefully fills the scales with blue, she finds herself pondering how lovely it would be to have her artwork on the art of someone who has made it big. She hopes that Blue Talon will go far.

Occupied by her phone, Azula seems to be content for the time being. It would seem that the girl isn’t particularly interested in anymore conversation and she doesn’t try to force her into one. They don’t speak again until the final dragonfly has been inked on to the girl’s shoulder. Seicho flicks the tattoo gun off and sets it aside. “I can take a few pictures of the dragonflies for you so you can see them.”

Azula nods, paying only half attention as she inspects the dragon that now curls around her bicep. “It’s good work.” She says at last.

“Thank you.” Seicho smiles. She holds up her phone and the girl glances over it. “Hey!” She shouts as she snatches the phone from her hand. She watches Azula pull up her contacts list and add herself to it.

“We will be in touch.” She presses the phone back into Seicho’s palm.

She never would have thought that it would be so easy to get a rockstar’s phone number. Albeit, this particular rockstar seems to lack either impulse control or social graces. She is inclined to go with the latter.

“Feel free to give me a call if you think that the ink might be infected. Just follow the instructions,” she gestures to the aftercare package, “and that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Don’t wait by the phone.” Azula inspects her nails. “I have impeccable hygiene.”

Seicho damn near laughs. She has only exchanged a few words with the girl and she has already left quite an impression. Aesthetic aside and phone incident, she is strangely well-mannered, prim and proper. She isn’t exactly the sort Seicho is used to having in her chair.

She gives her hair a flick, revealing a golden ring bearing the Kasai family emblem. Were it not for that, Seicho would have never guessed that she was the daughter of Fire Lord Ozai. Thee Fire Lord Ozai, vocalist and guitarist of Fire’s Reign.

She doesn’t get the chance to request an autograph or a chance to meet her idol. She hears the shop bell rattle as the rock legend’s daughter shuts the door behind her and makes her way back to her car.

Seicho hopes that her hard work will serve the girl well.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Azula/Seicho #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #TyLee #Fanfiction #Atlasecrettunnel

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seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 4 years ago

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Until Forever - Sirius Black

Chapter 11. Friends.

After that particular talk she had with Minerva, she felt lighter, as if the weight she was carrying on had been lifted from her chest, freeing her from the invisible tyrant. She had finally found someone she could be honest – she hated lying, even white lies put her in a hard position. She was slowly learning how to be at ease when things falling apart and that she had to start over; how to trust those new beginnings once more, how to trust in the rebirth of things and people, including herself; that with every new beginning, she found another lost piece of herself, and with every new adventure, she fell in love with something she would never have thought she’d love. They were scary and confusing but they were also spectacular and extraordinary. Running away was not always the solution. Slowly, but steadily enough, she was learning how to let new people in – how to reawaken her faith in people and their ability to love and their ability to open her heart again. And while she was dreading it, she was hoping that people could see all the different sides of her and still stay. She was never big on trusting herself but she had to; she had to find the ability to trust all those tough experiences that left scars inside her heart or stitches inside her brain, all of that contributed to who she had grown to be. She had to finally understand that things didn’t always fall apart to give an ending, but sometimes they fell apart to present a new beginning. Couple of days passed her by, as she decided to do nothing at all but take of herself, occasionally talking about her secret with her professor and giving in to the pleasure of the beauty world. She was a 2020’s girl and could not, would not, compromise that for the makeup trends of the 70s and 80s. She hated the bold colors that were used without blending – the big hair and the extreme statements. She was a girl of her time, and that time wasn’t this one. Her things were cut-creases and winged eyeliner, matte foundation and contouring, perfectly shaped eyebrows and soft lips. She had to ask her professor for a couple of favors, but Minerva was more than happy to oblige, remembering her young years as well. She had spent the last days, happily alone – of course she was thinking about everything. Her old life, however, seemed too far away from her now. Like a distant dream. She knew that it was more than just a possibility to never live in her time again, and even though that saddened her, she found herself relieved – she had formed attachments despite her initial thoughts of being distant and alone. Yup, that went well.

The 29th day of December had arrived and she was still contemplating whether or not to go to the party. Thanks to Minerva, who was even more excited than she was, she had now a gorgeous dress and high heels but her gut feeling told her that maybe, she just wanted to go so she could see him. With another girl. And in the process, hurt Remus again. While all that time, she should be investigating everyone and everything so she could find a way to change the story and the outcomes. Oh, well, she was twenty-two, after all. She was one of the very few Gryffindors who had stayed and she had the common room to herself most of the time – just like now; she was enjoying silence with a bottle of sparkling wine. She was ecstatic for not having to buy more bottles but simply conjuring more delicious wine – magic was helpful. Unknown to her, she was being stared at. She had stars behind each eyelid and a galaxy in her soul that drew people to her endless heart, like the pull of a black hole, she was made of earth and fire, of wishes cast on shooting stars. She was a brand-new solar system, unlike the ones he had known so far, with constellations ever changing. No one could memorize her skies and he thought the thing for all of her previous relationships to do was bring her down to size. He could see, they had tried to shrunk the universe within her, told her that her vast expanse was wrong, that she should make her life much smaller, if she wanted to belong. But she had denied them that privilege over her and he was amazed by her strength. He threw himself to the couch and she yelp in surprise. He was the last person she expected to see there. He was enjoying her loss of words very much, trying at the same time to convince himself that his visit was purely out of friendly interest. “What can I say? I felt bad for leaving you alone” he exclaimed rather provocatively. She sneered and arched her eyebrow. That was how they were playing at. “Don’t. I was having fun” she answered truthfully, pointing at her drink. He knew he was supposed to follow her hand but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was a vision of heartache and blooded marches that hadn’t even started yet; a battlefield of blossomed roses about to sacrifice themselves to the Gods so that their love would survive. “What kind of a friend would I be then, huh? Speaking of, I didn’t know your birthday was a month ago. But guess who did… ouch” he said and even though it was a mockery, he did sound hurt, or rather jealous. She thought about the word he had used – friend. He wasn’t. Even though she so desperately wanted him to be, he wasn’t. “He asked, you didn’t” she fired as soft as a bullet hitting the petals of a rose. Raising her glass to a toast she never proposed, she saluted him and he knew she was in a mood, alright. “Careful there, you were almost being sweet” he provoked her further. She simply turned her entire body towards him, taking notice of everything, his outfit, his hair, his eyes. He could wear a rag and he would still look incredible. Of course, the leather jacket and the black biker boots were making her imagination run wild. She forgot what she wanted to say to him – probably something sarcastic – and instead offered wine, face masks and her room. Bold move – and a risk he accepted. Sirius was a dilemma; a broken crown wanting to reclaim the throne; a shuttered mirror trying to depict life as it once was. She thought how childish he had been described in the books – but she kept forgetting that all of that was supposed to be parts of a book. He felt real, next to her, with a green tissue mask on his face, pretending to be a zombie and drinking wine. He was just a young adult and he had every right in the world to enjoy his life as much as possible – she wanted him to have those moments, for later he would lose all hope. “What is this? I love it!” he proclaimed his love to the bottle of wine he had also claimed for himself only. She tried not to laugh because she, herself, had a tissue mask on her face but it proved to be impossible. “It’s called Moscato d’Asti – and it’s my favorite” she told him as she laid on her bed, closing her eyes, not wanting to meet his. Next thing she knew, he was right beside her, his hand grazing her thigh. She swallowed hard and shot up – straight to the bathroom. Removing the mask and washing her face with cold water, she did a breathing exercise to calm her nerves but her stomach had been replaced by a knot. She looked at the mirror, a reflection she didn’t recognize. Taking a deep breath, she went out finding Sirius pacing back and forth. It would have been a rather serious scene but he still had his mask on, something he realized and looked down embarrassed. After a moment or two in the bathroom, recollecting himself, he exited with a fake smile that made her guts twist, so she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. “I met your brother. Nice guy” she commented honestly but his cringed. Arching her eyebrow, and raising her hands up, she surrendered. He sat down next to her, eyeing her and wanting nothing more than to tell her the whole truth. “I will answer any question you have but let me give you your birthday present” he gave in once his eyes met hers. He was lying to everyone when he was pretending to be her friend – he wasn’t. Before she could register what was happening, Sirius had an entire tattoo kit to play with. Her mouth hung open, not even close to believing the scene unfolding. “No, no, no, no. First off, you’re drunk. Then I don’t trust you with a needle to draw something permanent on me and no!” she summed up quickly but he wasn’t listening. “I know what I am doing. Trust me” he informed her rather nonchalant. They did have a deal… She bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Fine. She had an excuse now, for revealing her tattoos to him. He hadn’t asked her too but she wanted. “Okay. But you have to see my other tattoos first” she carefully told him, watching hi prepare the equipment; his head shot up in the words. He had never thought she would show him her story – because each tattoo was a part of her story. She had never been good at hiding her feelings… and here she was, swallowing her emotions, mutilating her own self for someone else’s sake. She saw the broken pieces in his eyes and wished she could tell him that he would heal in four months, or two weeks, or by next Monday if he really tried. But she couldn’t and that costed her. For if there was anything, she had learned about moving forward, about letting go, about becoming the person she wanted to become — it was that it happened in the quietest moments. Growth crept into her, it burrowed and it stretched, it cracked her open from the inside, and one day she woke up and she had to open her eyes. Maybe he would need more time or better suited people around him. Slowly, she revealed each of her tattoos to him. She removed the spell concealing them and let him explore her. He was tracing his fingertips on her skin. He had seen the lotus flower and remembered her explanation. Her left ring finger was delicately decorated with a small rose. His hands traveled to the inner part of her forearm just below her right elbow, caressing the bracelet of the phases of the moon and the sunflower that reminded him of the sunflowers Van Gogh used to paint. Her shirt was loose enough for him to push the strips off of her shoulder to reveal the Arabic quote she had tattooed on her left collarbone. Before he could stop himself, he was fondling her inked skin – his hand was too close to her neck – he could see her pulse quicken, he felt her breath on his mouth. He knew she had more tattoos but stopped before leaning too close. “I didn’t run away to leave my brother behind. I was thrown out and I am haunted by the ghost of him. I know I have screwed up but they were right about one thing. I don’t believe that I deserve love – I couldn’t give it when I had to” he confessed, gathering his tools to create a birthday present for her that would last. She didn’t dare to move, looking at him as if any moment now, he would vanish. He carefully took her left hand and cleaned the inner part of her forearm just below her elbow with pure alcohol. With an eye contact to seal their deal, he begun drawing. It hurt but it was a sweet burning sensation that she didn’t really mind. “It’s a lie to think that you don’t deserve love if you aren’t able to love yourself. You deserve it. You deserve companionship and care and relationships that feel good and spaces where you’re cherished and valued. Even if you have days where you want to crawl out of your skin and disappear. Even if there are moments when you feel inadequate and unlovable. You don’t have to be alone just because you’re battling your own darkness. Carrying that weight doesn’t make you defective or too much or unworthy of love and belonging. It makes you human. It makes you someone who’s internalized judgments that were never yours to carry. It makes you someone who’s survived a lifetime of trauma and loss and pain. Someone resilient and inconceivably brave. Someone courageous enough to connect, despite the lies in your head. And there’s no shame in that. So please, don’t withdraw or close yourself off. Self-hatred doesn’t get unlearned through isolation. It’s unlearned through love. Through connection and care. Through having relationships and gathering evidence that you can be imperfect and struggling and still be valued. That you can hurt and be at war with your head and still be wanted. I know it’s hard to trust, but you belong. And no matter how much darkness you’re carrying, you deserve to love and be loved” she told him while he was still focused on the piece, he wanted her to have. His hair falling elegantly on his face, eyes silver as mercury dancing across her skin. ‘There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in’ it read as the quote was mingling with the swirling blues and yellows of the Starry night. It was a bracelet as well but it made her teary – her favorite painting with some of the most meaningful words she had read. He wrapped it and sealed it close but she already knew how to take care of new tattoos. When his eyes met hers, the entire world seized to exist. It was just them and nothing could intervene. She didn’t stop herself from hugging him and thanking him – a whisper that made him melt inside her embrace. “There is a Japanese word; kinsukuroi. It’s the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. I find it strangely reassuring” he tenderly told her and she felt a blissful breeze of refreshing air calming down her lungs. “If you want to see the other tattoos, you can. It’s just that…” she trailed of and cautiously grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it off. She knew it was too much – she could have just described them to him. But she knew it was a risk she was willing to take because the moment would never be perfect, the circumstances would only worsen and her heart would only break even more. He took a sharp breath in but didn’t stop her; quite the opposite really. He found himself helping her out of her shirt with shaky hands. His touch burned her but she could only look at him and see a future – it scared her. His eyes stayed on hers but slowly they roamed her upper body and suddenly they fell on the canis major constellation, tattooed right in the middle of her chest – underneath her bra. There was a small blue bird in the left side of her rib-cage, probably the one from Bukowski’s poem. He wasn’t able to do anything but stare at her and explore her body. She softly nudged her hair out of the way and his eyes traveled to her neck once again. It was the most intimate thing he had ever done. She twisted her torso so he could see her back – a pair of antlers resting close to her hairline and the planetary system running down her spine. Not just any tattoo. It was almost identical to his. “How is this possible? The moon, the canis major, the antlers, the planets? How?” he asked disoriented, not knowing which tattoo to look at because if he looked at her face, he would kiss her, crush her in his arms. She shrugged and put her shirt back on. He knew those tattoos were done at least a year ago – she didn’t know them. “Maybe not in your reality. But is was in mine” she airily told him, leaving him with questions to which he did know the answer. The girl in front of him hadn’t simply fallen from the sky to his embrace. She had fallen through time. He was too close, his breath on her mouth, her hands on his arm, tracing the patterns of his tattoos. She closed her eyes, not wanting to collide. Not now. Not yet. But she couldn’t say no all at once. She placed a small peck on his cheek and thanked him again. “Care for a cigarette?” she mouthed too close to his lips. No, he didn’t. He cared about her. All the right ways – and all the wrong ones. He was hers in a way he never belonged to anyone ever before. A little. A lot. Passionately. Not all.

___ Taglist: @nadinissavage @mycobrakai1972

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zigtheeortega · 5 years ago

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“’cause we're collectin' moments; tattoos on my mind”

pairing: raleigh x mc

@choicesmarchchallenge

word count: 2,071

song inspiration: sometimes - ariana grande

tag list: @violinet ; @bloodxbound ; @dadrianraines ; @mentallych-ill-desi ; @adrixnrxines ; @roguemal

author’s note: the lyric (that’s the title) from sometimes inspired this fic! i love raleigh sm. also sorry for the double post it just lined up that way lmfao. also sorry if this is an unpopular opinion, but i dont care for the platinum mc so i decided to make her more of what i thought raleigh’s type of girl would be (lmao). anyways, hope u enjoy!!!

She tripped over a large crack in the sidewalk, almost wiping out completely, but Raleigh’s strong grip managed to keep her going.

“C’mon, Dom, they’re gaining on us!” he laughed, whisking her through the street, cutting through an alleyway.

He stopped abruptly and pulled her close, a mischievous grin on his face. He held a finger to her mouth, and cocked his head in the direction of the street.

The paparazzi sprinted by, not even glancing in the direction of the dimly lit alley. The shuffling of their feet faded into distant patters.

Raleigh tiptoed to the opening of the alley and peeked his head around the damp brick wall, before jogging back to the shadows, the smile from before still lingering on his lips. “Coast is clear.”

“So what now, genius?”

He chuckled, hugging her close with one arm draped lazily around her shoulder. She could smell the cheap tequila on his breath, a reminder of their rendezvous at the sketchy bar.

She leaned into his touch, the buzz not quite wearing off yet. The alcohol weighed her head down, and before she knew it, she rested it on his shoulder.

“Well, I haven’t done anything truly reckless in a while. Gotta keep the bad boy image up,” he said, sliding his arm down to her waist.

“Are you gonna explain what that means exactly?” she laughed.

“You might not think it now, but I used to be a goodie-goodie,” he started, guiding her towards the opening in the alley. “When I first started in Sunset Skatepark, I was supposed to be absolutely perfect, and tattoos were a huge part of that, believe it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Honest to God, I’m not lying. I wanted them so bad that I got any old stick and poke that was offered to me, which I don’t recommend at all,” he shook his head. “Obviously they’ve been covered up since then by these beauties,” he gestured to the arm wrapped snugly around her. “But I miss the spontaneity.”

“You, Raleigh Carrera, miss spontaneity? Mr. Publicity Stunt? Mr. Dating to Get the Tabloids On His Side?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Dom, but I miss being kind of secretive. Getting a tiny stick and poke where no one could see was exhilarating.” She looked up at him, and his face was bright.

His face was reminiscent of the past, a hint of gratification that she knew he hadn’t felt in a long time. Raleigh had always struggled with being truly content with his life, and she knew that their whirlwind romance was something to fill his void, as harsh as that sounded.

She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. She’d gotten a taste of the high life, and she was exhausted. Knowing that, she didn’t mind being the person to fill in the cracks, clinging to the pieces to keep it together.

He used chaos as escapism, as a way to outrun the parasitic tendrils of the industry, the burden that came with being a household name, and the inevitable role model title that came with it.

She knew he was chasing a high that he could never sustain, and if feeding into his law-bending fantasies was the way to bring out the best in Raleigh, she would do it no matter the cost.

“So you want us to get party tattoos?” She finished, and his features twisted into a sheepish expression, one that was foreign on his face. He wasn’t one to get beaten to the punchline, so he seemed surprised by her willingness to match his energy.

“What do you know about party tattoos?” He smirked, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out… eventually.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back, glancing at her lower back.

“I’m not saying a word,” she giggled, grabbing onto the hand draped around her waist, intertwining their fingers.

They rounded the corner and spotted the neon sign of the tattoo parlor down the road from them.

“You sure about this? Tattoos are permanent, you know. Plus we’re not exactly in the right mindset for this.”

“I’m sure.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound between them the tapping of her heels on the concrete sidewalk.

He pulled on the handle, and the small silver bells attached to the inside of the door jingled, and a gruff-looking man covered in tattoos looked up from the magazine he was reading. Luckily enough, it had to be Raleigh’s most recent cover.

His eyes widened, and Raleigh stopped him almost immediately. “I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. We had to outrun the paparazzi a few minutes ago, and we really wanted a night to ourselves.”

The man looked starstruck, so Raleigh continued. “I’ll pay extra to rent out the shop for an hour or two.”

He shook his head, finally finding his words. “No need, Mr. Carrera. I’d only request an autograph, and maybe a picture to show my wife, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s a huge fan.”

Raleigh flashed him his most charming smile. “You got it.” He grabbed a sharpie and the magazine, while the man switched off the open sign and locked the front door.

“You want me to make it out to anyone in particular, sir?” He asked, signing his name with a flourish.

“Yeah, could you make it out to Linda?”

“Of course,” he smiled, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face while he concentrated on the message he was scrawling.

The man led them to a back room, and sanitized his station before sliding on a pair of gloves.

“How do you want to do this?” Excitement glimmered in his eyes, and warmth spread throughout her chest.

“I thought it could be a surprise,” she said, already locking in on an idea.

“You read my mind,” he grinned. He stripped his shirt off quickly, his lean torso flexing as he shimmied off his top. She tried diverting her eyes, but to no avail. He caught her staring, a hint of hunger in his look.

She sat just outside the room on a small leather couch, thumbing through Raleigh’s magazine shoot and interview to keep herself company while the needle buzzed in the other room. The interview was alien to her; he was keeping true to his public image, but it was so different than the side of Raleigh he’d allowed her to see.

She pitied the public who’d never get Raleigh to be truly candid and vulnerable with them.

Soon enough, he was done, and it was concealed from her eyes by the small bandage.

“I have an idea of where I want it, but I’m not so sure what I need to do…” she trailed off, not knowing how to approach an underboob tattoo. Was it appropriate to keep the shirt on? To take it off? Should she just take her bra off?

“If it’s anywhere near your chest, you’ll have to take your bra off. You can keep your shirt on as long as you keep it above the area we’ll be tattooing,” the man said professionally, and it eased her mind.

Raleigh watched from the doorway as she unhooked her bralette and slipped it through the arm of her shirt. His eyes were trained on her as she laid down on the table, lifting her top to right underneath her nipple. She didn’t mind him watching her; a heat bloomed in her stomach when she truly realized how her body commanded his.

“Go sit down,” she said, shooing him away. He chuckled, raising his hands up in front of him, before plopping on the same leather couch she had sat minutes before.

She described the tattoo to him, and he looked at her like she was crazy. It was simple, but so reckless. Something she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a few months prior. But something that seemed so natural and… right.

The machine punctured her skin, stinging in a way that was a comfortable pain – therapeutic, even. She winced, sighing as the needle passed across her rib bone.

“I have to go back over it one more time, and I’ll be done. You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, intently focused on maintaining the steadiness of his grip on the machine.

She gritted her teeth as he passed over the tender skin again, sucking her breath in.

“You okay?” Raleigh called from the other room, concern laced through the raspy bass of his voice.

“I’m great,” she replied, gripping her shirt above her bra.

“You’re all done,” he said, rubbing a thin layer of a sticky substance on her skin before taping a small bandage over it. “I’m putting petroleum jelly on this. Don’t take the bandage off till this time tomorrow.”

Within a couple of minutes, Raleigh handed over cash and a hefty tip to the artist, and they were out of the door.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and her thoughts seemed clearer, the cloudy haze of tequila beginning to fade. They walked leisurely down the empty road.

The street lamps were illuminating small patches of the road, the stretches of darkness more prevalent than light. The apartments and small shops were closed – they were the only people outside.

He stopped her underneath the bright bulb of the lamp nearest to them, and grinned. “Were you planning on showing me what you got at some point?”

“Yeah, but only if you do it first,” she replied, barely able to think straight. Her eyes grazed over his features as he looked down on her, taking in the soft shadows left on his tanned skin, his jawline and exposed collarbone looking especially sharp under the yellow light.

“Alright, that’s fair.” He pulled up his shirt, before peeling back the tape and the bandage with it. He’d gotten a tiny cloud tattooed right above the paragraph of text on his ribcage.

“What does it mean?”

His eyes glimmered despite the dim lighting. “You’re the only person in this world that makes me feel like I’m more than what I pretend to be. And you’re the only person who’s really seen the real me, and makes me feel like I’m… worth something, you know? I feel like I’m weightless, like I’m floating when I’m with you. Like I’m dreaming. Like my head is in the clouds, but in the best way.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. He pressed his lips against hers softly, and she chuckled once. He pulled back, eyeing her. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, but I’m so glad it’s my secret to keep.”

He grinned, and reapplied his bandage, gesturing for her to take her turn.

She pulled her shirt and bra up, just enough for the bandage to be free. She lifted the tape, revealing two letters: R.C.

His eyes widened. She could tell he was momentarily stunned, so she jumped right in.

“My whole life I’ve felt average. Just another girl chasing a dream that she’d never achieve because she sounded and looked like every other girl that she was competing with. You changed my life. One in a Million was my ticket, but you were the one who gave that to me.

“I never wanted to be ‘boring’. I was just cautious. Comfortable. Safe. You’ve brought out a side of me that I never thought I could be, because you believed in me. I could spend a lifetime thanking you, but I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“So you branded yourself with my initials?” He said, still stunned, but the look on his face had softened significantly.

“And you got a tattoo inspired by me, too. What’s the difference?” She smiled and sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I guess we belong to each other now,” he said, before sweeping her up into his arms and kissing her fervently, the distant sounds of the city keeping them grounded.

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#platinum #platinum choices #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #playchoices #choicesmarchchallenge #jade writes choices fics

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