#it has to be an insult to the size of his prick yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 4 years ago

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Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading!

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

Note

My friend is a big fan of you as well and asked me to request this:

A Janus fic based on the song Monster by Dev https://youtu.be/5iA_oFDNt9E

I think the song could fit him quite well, maybe with the others being like “out of all of us, h i m???”

-🦑

Songfic?? With Janus angst?? My time has come *ascends*

CW: Unsympathetic Light Sides (they're not assholes but they're basically unsupportive, concerned for Reader, and hateful/distrustful of Janus)

...........

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

"What?!! [Y/n] this..this cannot possibly be true!"

"Roman-"

"You could've had any one of the fine gentlemen here...but more importantly me.."

"Roman, just calm-"

"And yet you chose him?! That wretched slimy snake?!" The princely Side pointed rudely at Janus, who was just sitting on the couch beside you. He frowned as he fiddled with the chain of his capelet, finding more interest in that than the uncomfortable conversation currently taking place.

This wasn't even the direction you nor him expected it to take. It was already going south..straight towards hell.

All because Remus couldn't keep his mouth shut and blurted out the revelation that you and Janus were dating.

Ironically, he was the one who confessed to you first--something that you're certain no Side would ever believe.

"There's got to be something wrong with your head." Roman shook his head in dismay, before approaching you. "Come now. We'll find you a true Prince Charming! One that's not a vile fibber like-"

Suddenly you sprang up, moving away from him. "You don't get to choose who I fall in love with. Remus.." You glared at the dark half of creativity. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave right now."

"Do ya promise~?" He giggled, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. "You know I'm into that."

"Let it go, [y/n]." Janus tried to assure you. "They're both bumbling fools."

"A fool?!" Roman gasped. "The only fool here is YOU!! Trying to tempt them with your false promises of love and affection! What do you know about romance?!"

"Apparently more than you." You interrupted, standing by your lover in a defensive manner. "I know this isn't exactly how I planned to tell you but god just calm down for a minute."

You definitely didn't anticipate this kind of freakout from him. You thought he'd be asking about the how's and when's of falling in love, as one would expect from the "romantic expert" of the Sides.

You had a plan to tell all of them individually, but..starting with the guy who was deceived most and openly mocked his name probably wasn't a good idea.

Eventually the two halves of creativity left you both alone. And only then did you sit back down next to the now-dejected Janus, holding his hand. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Oh don't worry, it'sss new to me." He muttered, squeezing your hand in turn. "I'm sure Roman will have a tough time realizing he's definitely the most handsome one around here." The smirk he gave made you chuckle.

"Yeah, well..he'll get over it. We got off on the wrong foot with him, but I'm sure the others will be more accepting."

He's a monster He's a monster That boy, he's a motherfucking monster But I love him, yeah I love him Ooh ah, ooh ah ah

"Seriously? That guy?"

"Just hear me out, Virgil-"

"Oh I've heard plenty. I'm just warning you that it's a bad idea." Virgil huffed as he put his phone down. "He's a monster who's gonna use you for some selfish gain. You've seen it. He only cares about himself and hurts people to keep it that way."

"I know you've known him longest but...I'm pretty sure at this point he's moved past all of that." You pointed out. "Honestly, the only one being hurt here is him. First Roman, and now you?"

Despite your arguments, he just didn't seem convinced. "I'm not doing this to give you anxiety...I can only do that to Thomas. And I'm not gonna say "breakup with him right now". I'm just telling you that he's not what he seems."

"I appreciate your worries, but I love him and that's that." You insisted, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood defiant. Obviously it was in his nature to tell you to stay cautious, and he'd probably say the same if you were dating anyone else.

But calling Janus a monster seemed awfully harsh. You haven't even heard him call Remus that, which was odd.

'Seriously why is he being such a prick?'

"..whatever you say." Virgil shrugged before sinking out, leaving you alone by the staircase.

"I wouldn't worry. His opinion of me has never changed."

You realized Janus was eavesdropping and turned to face him, sighing. "Jan, are you doing something that's making them be so... brutally honest? This just seems unusual for them."

"Not that I'm aware of." He had briefly removed his glove, indicating he was tell you the truth.

"Hm..then again, Roman and Virgil are sorta the least-rational ones. One's jealous that he doesn't have a date and the other overthinks a lot."

"Wonderful observations, my dear."

"Patton and Logan are more down-to-earth and clear-headed so they might have more understanding."

"I'm sure they will." Janus' tone didn't match the optimistic words he uttered as he slipped the glove back on. "Oh and..I'll try not eavesdrop anymore."

Little did you know, that would be two lies.

Most people are scared When they look him in the eyes, all they see is fear (but) Let me make this clear I want him near

"How can you look into his eyes and..and.."

"Go on."

"And not be scared?! I know I would be, kiddo."

"...Patton, is that seriously your only argument? That he looks creepy?"

"No, no! I just..." For a moment the fatherly Side paused, before he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Listen, I do think you're being a good influence on that wriggly snake but...I only worry he's being a bad influence on you. Every time he's near you I-"

"It sounds like your only argument is "he's a creepy crawly snake so I shouldn't trust or love him". Is that all?"

"It's...a bit more complicated than-"

"It's a yes or no, Pat."

"...I'm trying to look at the bigger picture and, sure there's some good in him but..I worry he's gonna hurt you in the end, that's all. Like he hurt us several times by impersonating us." He tried to reason, but you just brushed his hand off your shoulder in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be one to judge books by their covers." You frowned slightly. "Well let me make this clear: I want him near me. I feel safe around him. I love him, outward appearances and all. So if you can't accept the way I see him then...we're done here."

With no more defenses, Patton sank out as you left the room. But in the hallway you spotted a familiar capelet vanish around the corner, and you found Janus, who manifested a brown eye contact over his snake eye. His scales almost vanished under his skin, but you called out to him before they could disappear entirely.

"Janus? I thought you weren't going to-"

"I..n-never expected Patton of all people to say that.." He held the side of his face shakily, keeping his head lowered so you didn't see the gradually forming tears. Only now he was starting to feel the impact of everyone's words. "If..it's my looks then...I can surely make adjusssstments.."

"No, sweetheart. You don't have to change your looks or be anyone else for me." You cupped a hand over the one that still covered the scales. "C'mon. You can't seriously believe Patton's dumb reasoning, right?"

"........."

All you got was a silent nod.

Most people can't sleep Feeling he's out, on the streets (but) He is my creep He is my creep

"While I see your relationship to Janus is beneficial-"

"Actually, nevermind. You're just gonna tell me the same shit everyone else did."

"...now [y/n], remember what we've discussed on cognitive distortions-"

"Jumping to conclusions? Overgeneralizing? I know. But I have valid reasons for those. You all think Janus is gonna hurt me because he's some "freaky selfish snake". But he's not, alright? He's been more truthful with me lately and I'm sick of the others not believing anything we say. So please, Logan..can you take my side for once?"

Logan was surprised by your outburst. He didn't even know you've talked to the others about Janus and assumed he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But he adjusted his glasses and looked at his notebook, all traces of emotion vanishing. "Logic can't take sides. If you would just listen..I've observed that your interactions with him have been generally positive, and that's helped Thomas-"

"There you go again..why does everything always gotta lead back to Thomas? Can't you just recognize Janus as his own person without assuming I'm only dating him to help-?"

"Because he can't be distracted from his core function!!"

You jumped a bit as he slammed down the notebook, scowling at you with a slight orange tinge behind his glasses. Though it was quick to disappear as he sighed. "He can never be his own person. You two will never have a truly normal relationship. I only advise that you keep that in the back of your mind."

And just like that, he left.

Every discussion you've had with a "Light" Side only left the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth...

Now what should you-?

You were startled again as you heard a nearby door slam shut, before realizing who overheard this conversation.

"Shit."

Is he human, does it matter I know he's what I'm after I can reel him, from disaster I know

"So..th-that's how they all see me, huh? A monster..n-not even a person."

"Jan.." Joining your boyfriend on the king-sized mattress, decorated in black and gold much like himself, you could finally see those walls he built up now crumbling to pieces.

One way or another, he heard what every Side had to say about him. And it was more than enough for him to realize they not only shun him for simply existing..

But they refuse to accept the idea that he's worthy of love, too. He can take the name-calling and insults in the videos, but this is what truly broke him.

He just scratched at his scales, his human eye already red and raw from crying as he wondered why you went through all of this just for him.

Any sane person would listen to the others and just breakup with him. He wasn't worth the effort.

You clearly deserved better.

You deserved someone who's more handsome, chill, kindhearted, or sensible-

"I know you can't truly be human but..does it matter?"

"...does it?" He sniffled, leaning into your touch more as you ran a hand through his hair. "Because apparently not. I know I'm not a perfect, flawless individual..I-I don't expect any of us to be. But if only I-I never-"

"Jan..you can't focus on what you can't change. I know you feel guilty, and if the others can't see that...it's their own fault. I won't stop fighting for us and for your happiness. I love you, okay?" Turning to him fully, you cupped both sides of his face and looked into his eyes.

"And in case you think I'm lying, I'll say it again: I. Love. You. None of their words will change that."

Hearing you become so determined to love him despite all odds made him sob again, this time from relief, as you put your arms around him.

Nobody's ever taken his side on anything...and certainly never defended him the way you did.

You felt several extra arms manifest to hug you back, and you smiled, closing your eyes.

Maybe in time the others will understand. But while it's true he looked like a monster and had his deceitful ways..

You knew what you were after.

And so did he.

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

#clanask #squid anon #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides imagine #janus sanders x reader #janus sanders #angst #hurt/comfort #songfic

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helenarlett-rex · 3 years ago

Text

So for a while now I’ve had a problem with the landlord of the two duplexes next door to my house. You see, When I bought the house I’m living in, the two duplexes next to me were empty and abandoned. Then a year later some rich prick bought them and started renting them out. And as soon as he did he started harassing Violet and myself about our yard. Specifically, about our grass not being cut. Only here’s the thing... We do cut our grass. But this guy is a psychopath who hires a lawn maintenance crew to come out and cut the grass on his properties twice a week! He’s even sent them out to cut the grass at night! I don’t know what his fucking obsession is with grass but it’s far beyond the norms of lawn maintenance. And he doesn’t seem to like the fact that my yard isn’t being obsessed over and cut as frequently as his is.

We first started having problems with him a while back when he approached Violet one day as she was leaving to go to work. He walked up to her and started complaining about how our yard looked horrible and we needed to mow it. At the time the yard was NOT that bad. It hadn’t been cut in a week but that was all. Just one week since the last time we mowed it. Violet informed him that she was leaving for work, but she would mow the law as soon as she had the opportunity to do so. Violet did not inform me of this encounter.

Cut to a week later... It has rained all week so there has not been any opportunity to cut the grass. This puts my yard at only two weeks since it was last mowed. It’s getting kind of long at this point, but it’s not HORRIBLE yet. I’m fully aware that it needs to be cut but I have to wait for the yard to dry because my mower doesn’t work under water. And yeah... when it rains enough, we have puddles of standing water in the yard. So does he, by the way... I hear a knock on the door and I go to check. It’s the same guy. Who at this point I have never met and am still unaware of his conversation with my wife. As soon as I open the door he just looks at me and says, “I’m here to check the status of the yard.”

Naturally I’m just kind of like, “What...? Who are you?”

And he instantly starts getting aggravated and aggressive, telling me that he’s already talked to me about this and he wants to know why I haven’t cut the grass yet. And I actually have to explain to this man that this is the first time I’ve ever met him before and I have no clue who he is or what he’s talking about. Apparently he had me mistaken for Violet, which is really something considering Violet is about a foot and a half taller than me, twice my weight, and has a head full of thick, curly hair while I have a super short buzz-cut. He starts to calm down slightly when he realizes his mistake but I’m already standing there thinking, how full of yourself do you have to be to first come barging onto my property, announcing you’re there to check the status of the yard as if you own the place, and then you can’t even be bothered to realize I’m not the same person you talked to before when me and that other person look nothing alike? And then instead of trying to make things better he tells me, “Well I talked to whoever drives... this... thing...” gesturing to my car (which Violet and I were sharing at the time) and I’m like, now you’re insulting my car too? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my car. I’m sorry it’s not the oversized, gas guzzling, I’m compensating for the size of my penis pickup truck you’re driving, but it’s a perfectly fine car in good condition. But after insulting my car he goes on to start yelling at me about how my yard looks horrible and it’s bringing down the value of his property and if I don’t cut the grass he’s going to call the city and report me, and I’m just like... what the fuck, dude?! It’s rained all week! You can still see the water in the yard! I’ll cut it as soon as I am able to.

That was the first and last time I ever spoke to the man. I saw him occasionally here and there after that. Usually when I was leaving for work and he was in the drive way of the duplexes doing... I don’t even know what... And every time that happened he would just stand there giving me dirty looks as he watched me drive away. But I didn’t really care because I cut my grass. I don’t cut it twice a week like some kind of insane person, but I keep it at a reasonable length.

Then lawn maintenance people started knocking on my door asking me if I would like to hire them to take care of my lawn. And I’m like, what...? No... Thank you, but I take care of it myself. And at first I wasn’t sure why all of these random lawn crews kept knocking on my door, but then I remembered when I talked to the neighbor’s landlord one of the things he yelled at me was that if I couldn’t keep on top of it myself I should just hire his lawn crew. So I’m pretty sure he was sending them over because I’ve never had this happen before. First of all... Fuck you. I’m not paying someone just to keep my grass the exact same length as yours just to keep you happy. And second of all... I can’t afford that anyways. Take a look at where your duplexes are located. You’re in the poor neighborhood my man. You are the only person here who can afford a lawn crew. I have a feeling if you can’t keep people in your duplexes (which he can’t, by the way) it’s not because the neighbor’s grass is too tall... It’s probably because you bought a pair of run down duplexes in the slums and are trying to charge people like they are renting in a nice neighborhood. Everyone who moves into your duplexes moves back out in less than six months. I’m pretty sure that’s not because I only mow my lawn once a week instead of twice a week...

But as annoying as it was having people knocking on my door asking if I wanted to hire them, I didn’t worry too much about it... And then one day as I was looking out the window, wondering why his lawn crew was out there cutting the grass only a day after they had just cut it... I noticed one of the guys pull out his phone and take a picture of the line between his yard and mine. And I thought... Hmm... That’s suspicious... He sent them back out here to re-cut what they had just cut the day before and then take pictures of the difference between the lengths of our grass? Okay... what are you planning to do?

And I found out today, when while I was at work I get a text from Violet saying that a city property inspector showed up to inspect our property because he got a complaint.

But you know the funny thing about it...? My yard hasn’t been mowed since last Saturday and the first thing the property inspector did was look at it and say, “Well your grass is okay.” Yeah... It’s been a week since I cut it and it’s still within city codes. Next he inspected the trees growing by the power lines (which I’m assuming was also a complaint he received) and said, “Well those are getting a little too close to the power lines but that’s not your responsibility and I see the city has already marked them to be trimmed down, so that’s all good.” The only thing he saw that was even the slightest bit of a problem was that the fence in our backyard was leaning a bit and he asked us to fix it. Violet fixed it within the hour and had him come back out to take pictures. (Which impressed him because he’s never had anyone comply with anything that fast before.) So in the end the property inspector was like, yeah, you’re all fine here. I see no problems at all. Which means the neighbor’s landlord wasted Violet’s time, and the property inspector’s time, by sending the guy out here to harass us for no reason.

This was kind of the last straw for Violet though. She was already pissed off when the guy came over here onto our property and started yelling at me. (She’s very protective of me.) And pissed off again when I caught the lawn crew taking pictures of our yard. But after having a property inspector show up at our door when there was no problem...? She has decided if this guy wants to complain about our yard then she’s going to give him a reason to complain. And checked with the property inspector to make sure there were no city codes against her new plan.

She ordered 50 of them... This is going to be my yard in a few weeks... And I... kind of love it...

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high-supernatural · 3 years ago

Text

Unbroken IV: Back to the Real World

- This is part 4 to a part (who knows) series love story about a girl and Kai Parker.

Summary of the Series: Vera (V) has a connection to Kai that hasn’t been explained. Since she was young she could project into his prison world and interact. Over the years she got stronger and eventually broke him out. Think Supernatural’s Apocalypse world x parallel universe travel x kai parker. The rest you’ll have to read about :):)

Kai Parker x Female Character

Summary: Vera and Kai go on an adventure and make it back to the other world.

Word Count: 1518

Warnings: Typical TVD & SPN themes, finger pricking, Kai stabs reader (consensually), looting stores.

Kai and Vera set on their way to an unknown location in a car Kai found.

"We should stop at places along the way to wherever we're going," Vera exclaimed.

"Yeah? Like where?" Kai asked.

"Well... We have an entire world to ourselves, nobody around, and fully stocked stores with nobody to monitor them... you see where I'm going with this?" Kai glanced at her, playing dumb.

Vera huffed, "C'mon, it might all be merchandise from the '90s, but jewelry is jewelry. If I have an opportunity to hoard expensive things and steal without consequence, I'm taking it," she explained.

"A thief after my own heart," Kai joked.

"Besides... who else could see the world's largest ball of twine without any other tourists in the area?" Vera joked back.

"Been there, done that.... you're not missing much,"

"Oh come on, have some fun with me," she joked again.

They drove until sundown and found a random house to crash at for the night.

The two sat at the dinner table in the house after Kai made dinner again.

"If we're really doing this, we have to make a promise to each other," Vera spoke.

"Name your price," Kai looked at her attentively.

Vera propped her left elbow on the table, "give me your right pinky," she said.

Kai looked at her like she was weird but obliged. She put a hand on the wrist he gave her and pulled out a small pocket knife and handed it to Kai, "this is how I and the other you made pacts, you cut my pinky, I cut yours, we interlock our fingers, let the blood drip, and our pact is sealed."

She held her hand out to Kai, watching him slice her finger slowly and attentively before taking the knife from him and returning the gesture, interlocking their pinky's after.

"Ok, repeat after me, when we get to the other side, we won't leave each other," they looked into each other's eyes.

Kai repeated, "when we get to the other side, we won't leave each other."

"We'll be there for each other,"

"We are all we have,"

"We learn about that world together,"

Blood from both of their pinkies dripped down each other's hands.

"We won't abandon each other, or try to kill each other, we stick together,"

"We stick together,"

"No matter what," she said

"No matter what," Kai said.

"What else?" she asked.

Kai thought for a minute, "my fight is your fight,"

"My fight is your fight too," she repeated.

"Nothing will separate us," he said.

"Nothing will separate us,"

"That's all," Kai ended.

"Now I kiss your hand and you kiss mine, same time," She leaned to kiss his hand as he kissed hers, still looking at each other they pulled away.

The next day they took their time driving the rest of the way to their destination, making stops at numerous stores to gather things they found they wanted to take back with them.

"Pull over into this store," Vera said pointing at a high-end-looking jewelry store.

They walked into the dark store with flashlights, "wow," Vera gasped, "I can't believe you never looted any of these stores," her eyes laid on a diamond necklace, "look at that!" She walked behind the counter to pick it up, stuffing it in her bag.

"I would have if I had anywhere to wear these things," Kai said looking around, "besides, do you know how hard this glass is to get into?" He asked.

"Not very hard if you have the right tools," Vera smirked holding a baseball bat she rigged with a glass breaker on the end. They both wandered around the store checking out the things they want when Vera walked up to Kai with a ring sizer in hand, "what size ring do you wear," she asked.

"I don't know, 8?" he questioned.

She placed the ring sizer around his pinky finger, "9 actually."

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, we made a pact, might as well seal it in diamonds," she smashed a cabinet open with her bat, "I pick yours, you pick mine?" she asked.

Kai took the bat from her hands to rummage through the counter with women's rings, coming back over to her, "this looks like you," he picked up her hand from her left side and slid a skinny black snake ring with a diamond coating over her pinky.

"This looks like you then," she returned the gesture with a black band that had diamonds around the sides.

Kai squinted at her, "you know me well, somehow," he said in mild suspicion, "well, grab what you want, let's get going so we can beat the sun," he said.

She filled her bag with anything she thought was pretty and they were on their way again.

The destination they arrived at was Portland, Oregon. Kai pulled the car up to a white house slowly, "we're here," he said and got out of the car.

"Where is here?" Vera asked.

"Portland. My childhood home," he smiled and gestured her inside.

She knew Kai's past, but he didn't know that yet. He still thought Vera was just a girl who could see into his world and came back for that reason and that reason only. She didn't intend on bringing it up.

Vera's gift of seeing people for who they are behind their facade also worked with humans like Kai. Behind the cockiness, the jokes, insults, his weird ways of flirting, and general meanness, she saw behind all of it, something else Kai didn't know about her.

When she looked at him deeply she saw a hurt kid. Somebody who was born different and rejected for it. Deeper she saw the isolation. She knew he was isolated for being different. She didn't see a sociopathic serial killer, she saw a hurt young man who wanted revenge for the rejection and isolation placed on him. He didn't frighten her.

They walked into Kai's house, "why'd you want to come here?" she asked.

"This is where it all started. I figured this is where it should end," he told her, "I never told you the story of how I got here, did I?"

All she said was, "no," she wanted to hear it from him.

He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit as he sat across from her.

"I was born into a coven, a family of witches," he started, "the Gemini coven." He looked away from her at the table by her arm. "They had a tradition that every twin merges on their 22nd birthday and becomes the leader, but I was different," he paused. "I was born a siphoner, I siphon magic from others, I don't technically have my own, they were afraid of me,"

Vera interrupted, "so they isolated you?" she asked.

He looked up, "how'd you know?"

"Wild guess," she lied.

"Yeah," he looked back down, "they isolated me on the day of the merge... so I killed them. Every last one of my family members, except my father and my twin... when we began the merge, other members of the coven showed and they locked me here," he downplayed.

"Okay," she said calmly looking at him.

He looked at her confused, "okay?"

"Yeah... okay," she smiled.

Kai squinted, "either you're just as insane or you didn't hear me... I killed my whole family," he said with infliction.

"I know what you said. The way I see it though is they treated you bad and you wanted revenge. That doesn't really make you the bad guy," Vera looked right at him to catch his reaction.

He didn't say anything, he got up from his chair and walked to the kitchen, "hungry?" he changed the subject.

She could see this made him uncomfortable, he wasn't used to somebody accepting him and not being afraid, but decided to leave it alone, for a while, at least.

The next day was the day they were planning on leaving. They walked into the field under the eclipse for extra measure.

"Okay, remember what to do?" she asked, "I'm going to put my backpacks on, die with the other world in mind, you hold onto me and hope for the best," she looked at him.

Vera handed him a knife she took from the kitchen, "all hands on deck babe, don't let go," she said giving him a new nickname.

Kai plunged the knife into her heart and she held onto his forearm falling to her knees coughing. Kai got down with her, pulling the knife back out, and closed his eyes for a second, opening them to find themselves in the same field with some differences.

He looked around and realized they made it.

Vera laid motionless in his kneeling lap as he tried waking her before laying her in the grass and walking around, feeling the sunshine, watching the new types of cars drive by, taking the victory in.

Vera woke minutes later coughing to find Kai standing by the road, stumbling to get up and walk over to him.

She said out of breath, "looks like we made it," and coughed, "where to now?" she gripped her heart, still recovering.

"I have some business to take care of," Kai looked around and back at her, "care to join?" They both smiled.

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagine #kai parker series #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd au #tvd series

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand.

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest.

He just wanted to help.

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident.

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety.

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills.

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots.

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless.

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings.

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries.

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat.

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground.

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

Bitter metal on his tongue.

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth.

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed.

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself.

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing.

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes.

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

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

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with.

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness.

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip.

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep.

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

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

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage.

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness.

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away.

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away.

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans.

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

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly.

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors.

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things.

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed.

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

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

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl.

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around.

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection.

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new.

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever.

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.”

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment.

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest.

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster march #reader requests #leshen

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watchtower-feed · 4 years ago

Text

Steph’s Promposals TM

Disclaimer: This fic was inspired by Chapter 35 of Tamen De Gushi by Tan Jiu and Tim Drake’s vigilante life ruining his school life in Robin: Wanted. This was supposed to be last week’s fic but it’s wordy... Words: 2,587

When Tim comes home from one of Wayne Industry’s covert labs, he finds his whole family in his room. They have rummaged through the suits in his closet which are now laid out for viewing on his king-sized mattress. Before he can ponder whether he should ask or just leave, Dick spots him.

“Tim!” Dick holds up two suits, “All-black dinner suit or grey summer suit?”

All eyes are on him now and Tim wonders if the family’s invited to the Gazette’s upcoming charity gala next month. But they never prepared for those things, asking for recommendations on suits or dressing each other. Unless it’s for a mission, they never prepare at all.

“Wouldn’t a white-polo black jacket dinner suit be more appropriate for a gala?” Tim has moved toward his desk to empty the contents of his bag, while his family turned to each other with raised brows.

Suddenly, Damian scoffs loudly and ceremoniously punches Jason in the arm.

“Ow!”

“I told you Drake didn’t know. Pay up.”

“Tim,” Bruce says softly, “aren’t you going to your prom?”

Tim’s hand slips from the table. He stays stunned in midair as he repeats Bruce’s question in his head. His last prom is the day after tomorrow but he’s never gone to a single one. So why are they concerned about it now?

Tim slowly turns around and is almost insulted by the pitying looks his family is giving him. Dick looks like he’s about to cry and Cass smiles at him with sad eyes. Alfred is pressing down the non-existent creases of his jacket. The ends of Jason’s lips are pulled down. Damian’s smirking. And even though Bruce is trying to hold in his reaction, Tim can see the slightest furrow of his usually-apathetic brows. They’re staring at him like he’s dying but he doesn’t know it yet.

“Why would you assume I’m going?” he asks warily.

His question only made his family’s expressions graver. Finally, Bruce gives him the deepest sigh Tim has ever heard.

“Father,” Damian steps forward with a grin on his face. “Allow me.” He takes out a small red automatic umbrella from behind him. “Grayson asked if he could borrow your umbrella this morning and you threw him this.” Damian tosses it to Tim.

Tim holds it in his hands and vaguely remembers what happened before he left the manor this morning. He’s seen the umbrella before but never used it. He sort of remembers it being a gift from a good friend last year, who also started ignoring him out of the blue.

“Open it.”

Tim doesn’t want to take orders from Damian but no one else in his family is speaking up and at this point, Alfred has sat down to brace himself while peering at Tim through folded hands.

“No. Open it as if it’s raining. At the ceiling. So we can see your reaction.”

Damian is being especially specific and Jason’s frown has slowly been replaced by an eager smirk. There seem to be some theatrics planned and Tim hasn’t figured out where this is going so he decides to play along.

He points the umbrella toward the ceiling and pushes the button. There, on the inside of the umbrella, written in black bold letters is the question: Will you go to prom with me?

Tim’s jaw drops. His wide eyes are punctuating each letter as he reads the message over and over again. No matter how many times he repeats it in his head it’s not changing.

A flash hits Tim in the face and he glares at Jason who’s laughing silently with his mouth open.

“Todd, you were moving too much. I should’ve taken it.”

“No, Dames-- haha-- I got it alright.”

“Sons. Please.”

Bruce’s voice drops as he closes his eyes while massaging his temples, unsure which boy he’s most disappointed in at the moment. At this point, Dick has made his way to Tim and clutches his shoulders, fingers pressing desperately, “At least say you remember who it’s from.”

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s the day before prom and just like last year, you don’t have a date. It’s no big deal, really. You had fun with your friends last time. But it’s just that, this time of the year is bringing back awful memories. Maybe you shouldn’t go to school?

You sigh. There’s still school the next day.

You get up, get ready, and drag your feet all the way to the front of your school. Your friends greet you near the steps and suddenly thoughts of last year have been forgotten. It’s not like you talk to him anymore. You’ve done a good job of avoiding him and he never made a move to apologize or patch things up with you so… really. It’s no big deal.

“Isn’t that--”

“Tim Drake?”

You didn’t want to look. You weren’t planning to. But you have been staring at him since you walked into the school because Timothy Drake is waiting by your locker. Holding the red umbrella.

He sees you and it’s too late to turn back. Your friends all know about the failed umbrella and they’re already marching up to him.

“The audacity.”

“You’ve got some nerve, rich prick.”

“Woah,” Tim quickly holds up his hands. Suddenly realizing he’s way over his head. He should’ve accepted Dick’s advice when he offered it last night instead of slamming his door shut on his family. He was embarrassed. But now, he would take Jason’s help with your friends, even if he’ll just end up being a soundboard for their insults.

“I can explain.”

Your friends scoff as you slowly walk behind them where you can only see glimpses of Tim’s face.

“Explain then.”

“I…” Tim stutters. Then he bows his head slightly and his free hand travels to the back of his neck as he sucks in through his teeth. He sneaks you a crooked smile while his eyebrows try to meet at the center. “I only opened it yesterday…”

Silence. Incredulous eyes and held breaths. Then a collective groan and one of your friends slaps their forehead.

Tim nervously chuckles to try lessen the tension, “Actually it was my brother--”

“Okay. Stop right there,” You’re blushing furiously and you are furious. You rush forward and cover Tim’s mouth with both of your hands. “Please stop.”

Tim peeks at you and your cheeks heat up at the sudden proximity. You quickly pull back your hand and nudge your head toward the end of the hall. Tim follows you, still clutching the red umbrella in his hand.

You stop and quickly snatch it from him. When you reach the corner, you wring the umbrella with your hands and refuse to look at him.

On his part, he doesn’t know what to say. He knows he should apologize but is that enough? It’s been a year. You’ve been mad at him this whole time and he was too clueless to even know why.

“Clueless is an understatement,” you say.

Tim gulps as he realizes he’s been speaking his mind. His tendency to mutter his thoughts has always been a nuisance to Jason and he always complains about it. But then again it’s Jason. He thought his brother was just making something up to annoy him about.

“Is oblivious more accurate?” he teases.

You turn to him then. Glaring.

“Not the time. Sorry!” Yeah. Second greatest detective my ass! Tim swallows. Where’s Steph when you need her?

You sigh. It sounds a lot like Bruce’s from last night. “Tim, we should get to class.”

“Okay. Okay,” he says in a rush. “I really am sorry. I was an idiot-- am an idiot.” You tap your foot on the tiled floor, not really wanting an apology. All you wanted was his answer. A rejection would’ve been better than this. “So I was wondering if I can make it up to you by taking you to prom this year?” he asks sheepishly.

The hair on the ends of your skin stand up. It’s not goosebumps or nerves. It’s pure rage. You stomp your foot at Tim, making him jump. “How dare yo-- NO.” You quickly turn and start to walk away but Tim grabs your hand.

“Y/N, wait--”

You snap at him, imitating his tone, “ ‘Make it up to you by taking you to prom’ God, Tim! I cannot believe you right now! You don’t ask a girl to prom like it’s some sort of favor!”

“How…” Tim hesitates, eyes narrows below furrowed brows, “How do I ask a girl to prom?”

You realize then that Tim isn’t just oblivious. He’s worse than a newborn calf. You slowly brush off his hand. The two of you stand awkwardly in the hallway.

You sigh for a long time with your hands running down your patience. “Look, Tim,” you start, “I’m not mad.” You stop, puzzled that it’s not a lie. You sigh again, softer this time. “Really. I’m actually a little relieved now that I finally know why you never answered me--”

“I--”

You hold up your hand, “So many reasons I came up with on my own. All bad ones. And I was imagining how I would give you such a hard time when you finally apologize.”

Tim tries to speak again but your gaze has softened and he suddenly doesn’t feel the need to explain. You understand. You’ve always understood him better than anyone. But he hurt your feelings, despite not knowing, and you deserve to be mad at him.

The bell rings and you wait until the halls have cleared before you continue, “But you know, after a year of not talking, I realized something.” Tim gulps when you look him in the eye. A light blush coats your cheeks. “I miss my friend.”

Tim stares at you before his lips slowly curl into a small smile.

You chuckle away the sudden nerves, “I miss my dumb oblivious friend who doesn’t know anything but academics and video games.”

His voice comes out low and breathless, “Yeah?”

You finally return his smile. “Yeah.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Steph’s laughter booms loudly over the gunshots on the rooftop. She’s wheezing and Tim is glaring into the distance, but not missing a beat when he sidesteps a thug and slams the barrel of his rifle against his nose.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thank you, Dames. I didn’t just get that from Steph’s obnoxious snorting.”

“So that’s a yes, right? You’re going to prom?” Dick asks through the comms.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Steph stops abruptly. Cass looms on a gargoyle perched above Tim and Steph, checking for any more movement. When she finds that they’ve subdued every single one, she joins Steph in staring at Tim. There’s a sudden eerie silence throughout all comms, as if the boys have instinctively picked up on the tension. It’s Babs who breaks it. “Steph, do the honor--”

“How in the holy hell do you figure she said yes to being your prom date? Come on, Timmy. Enlighten us. Please.”

Tim gulps and suddenly he couldn’t even hear his brothers breathing through the comms. His voice is low when he answers. “She said she missed me--”

“Because you haven’t hung out for a year!” Steph cuts him off then crosses her arms with a huff. She rapidly taps her feet, daring Tim to answer. “... She was avoiding me--”

“Because you didn’t even have the decency to use the umbrella she gave you! Ugh--!” Steph throws her hands up and kicks the ground. “Everyday this past year, I can’t believe my greatest promposal idea was soiled by your cluelessness.”

Tim’s eyes widens and he shouts indignantly at Steph, “It was your idea? Then why didn’t you just tell me!?”

“We had a bet going,” Babs interferes. “Nightwing party of three on your left. Robin en route to assist from overhead.”

“He’s coming in from the ceiling?!”

“Wait,” Tim cuts in, “Who else knew?” Cass raises her hand when Tim turns to her.

“Might I remind everyone,” Bruce cuts in through all comms, “that we are on a high stakes mission tonight?”

“Yes. Best postpone this discussion until tomorrow. Can someone please find out where Red Hood has been taken to?”

Cass immediately leaps off of her vantage point and leaves Tim and Steph on the rooftop.

Tim sighs under his breath, “... but prom is tomorrow.”

Steph comes up behind him and drapes her arm over his shoulders. “You’re so lucky you have me.”

✧ ✧ ✧

You make it through the school day just like any other. It’s even better now that you’re friends with Tim again. You took your shot and you crashed and burned. But at least now you can salvage your friendship.

Except that prom is tonight. Despite the awful memories, you still want your last prom to be unforgettable. More than half the school already ditched during lunch period. Now you only have a few hours left to get ready.

“Okay,” Steph whispers into her comms and Cass nods from beside her. “She’s leaving the classroom. Red, make it rain.”

From the roof, Jason quickly releases the folded firehouse in his grasp and aims it at the sky. The water splits as it comes down and blankets the small entrance of the school with fake rain. Jason grins as he watches high school kids scramble about in search for quick cover.

You’re watching from the top of the steps, looking down at the people running from the sudden rain. Strange, you think. It’s so bright out.

“Red 1, did you take Y/N’s umbrella?”

“Affirmative.”

Steph watches you rummage through your bag. “Okay. Red 1, go.”

Dick comes up from behind you, wearing an oversized coat to disguise himself, and opens his red umbrella halfway down the steps. You were going to ask if you could walk with him to the bus stop but the writing on his umbrella suddenly caught your eye. It has your name on it.

While you watch him walk away, Steph speaks into her comms again. “Red 2, go.”

Damian clicks his tongue at his codename. He only agreed to assist in this scheme because Steph let him write the next line.

A child too young to be in high school is also wearing an oversized coat and holding a red umbrella. He opens it at the foot of the steps and stays there. Waiting for you to read what’s written in angry bold letters on his umbrella: I’m sorry I’m a clueless idiot.

You blink at the words. Stunned. “What’s happening…” you mutter.

Steph turns to Cass, “Ready, Red 3.” Cass nods and the two of them come up from behind you. Cass opens her red umbrella first: It’s our last prom but my first one...

“Steph?” you call out.

Steph gives you a wink before she opens her own red umbrella: … and I want to spend it with you.

Steph and Cass count to two before they start walking away into the cover of the fake rain over your school.

You’re about to run after them when Tim suddenly shows up next to you. You’re staring at him with wide eyes that immediately turn to the red umbrella he’s holding in front of you. He unclasps it and opens it over your heads.

You look up. Inside it says: If you want to.

Tim takes in a breath before he speaks, “Do you want me?” His voice is low and shaky. “As your date I mean.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#Tim Drake #Tim Drake x Reader #Tim Drake/reader #Timothy Drake #timothy drake x reader #DC imagines #DC reader insert #watchtower-feed #atbucud

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witharsenicsauce · 4 years ago

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Two Hunters, Both Alike in Sympathy (SFTD/Chosen Stories Crossover)

(I know this is a couple days late, but happy belated anniversary to @grace-kohai and her wonderful story! Inspired by a year of happenings over at the SFTD Discord, thank you for giving my Gur-Rai an even bigger family!)

Content Warning: This story has mentions of relationship/parental abuse

Mordenna heard her footsteps before he saw her, and as the cloak melted away to reveal Kon-Mai Mordenna, he knew she had wanted him to find her.

He stepped away from his workbench and turned, smiling warmly until he saw her face: lined with worry. “Something troubling you, sister of mine?”

Kon-Mai nodded and stepped closer. “Mordenna…” She hesitated saying his name “-I’m sorry, it feels strange to use that to refer to someone else.”

“It’s a good name, I’m glad to share it with you.” He chuckled. “But I don’t think you’re here to discuss that.”

“No, I am here to discuss my brother...our brother. Gur-Rai.”

“Oh yeah?” Mordenna raised a brow, intrigued. “What about him?”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together.” She said, leaning on the bench. “Do you think he trusts you, Mordenna?”

Mordenna blinked. “I hope I haven’t given him any reason not to.” He said. Truthfully, he had been spending more time with Gur-Rai than the others, but that was only because the younger Hunter always seemed to seek him out, especially in the workshop. And Mordenna had to admit, Gur-Rai was a nice workshop buddy, and he wasn’t going to say no to a (particularly skilled) extra set of hands. True, Gur-Rai was also a bit more…intense than Mordenna was, but in him was a kindness that the Elders seemed not to have been able to stamp out. Mordenna found solace in that.

“I assume you have heard tell of his newest lover.” She curled her lip on the last word. “The Rookie, Emil.”

Mordenna thought for a moment. “...I haven’t been upstairs in a minute.”

“He was the one throwing a tantrum in the halls two days ago, because nobody could fix his Gewehr 98/40.”

“Oh. Oh.” Mordenna hissed. “That guy. Served him right for bringing a bolt-action to a plasma fight.” He then thought for a moment. “...Gur-Rai’s dating him?”

“Gur-Rai managed to fix the gun.” Kon-Mai elaborated. “And I suppose Emil whispered some sweet nothings into my brother’s ear that made him fall head over heels, like he does.”

“Is that why you look upset?” Mordenna asked.

“It’s why I am here to ask for help.” Kon-Mai replied. “I believe Emil is a liability to those of us on this ship, but more importantly I fear very much that he will lash out at my brother. That he’ll do something to hurt him.”

“So what do you need from me?” Mordenna leaned forward, both hands on the bench. “Because I’m not murdering someone over a tantrum. Trust me if I did, my blood trail would be thicker and stop much sooner.”

“I do not need him dead. Yet.” Kon-Mai hissed. “If it did come to that, I would not be calling on you. What I need help with is convincing my brother to let this rat of a man go before this relationship spirals into a sinkhole.”

Mordenna nodded. “And…why won’t he listen to you? He’s my brother too, but you’ve been around him longer than me.”

“That is why. I have developed a reputation for worrying about my brothers…” She brushed a strand of white hair behind her tiny ear. “...Perhaps to an excessive degree, I admit. If I confront him with this myself, I fear he will assume I’m being paranoid and disregard me, or worse: dig his heels in further.”

“And you actually think this guy is bad news?” Mordenna asked. “I’m not doubting your judgement, but if I’m stepping in, I need more proof than just ‘your sister thinks the guy is a prick.’”

“I would not trust him on a mission with any of our fellows.” Kon-Mai said. “He is volatile, he is argumentative and throws insults around like rice at a wedding. I would go so far as to say it seems like he is intentionally causing sabotage.”

Mordenna bit his lip. “Hearty claims, Kon-Mai.”

“I know they are. I have been staking him out myself but only recently, in case he truly does pose a threat. But in the meantime…” She clasped her hands. “I just want to be assured my brother is safe.”

“Well how about this, I’ll check up on Gur-Rai. If it seems like he needs help, I have ways of making sure nobody messes with him.” He shuffled forward. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“Just…as long as you try.” Kon-Mai bowed to him. “Thank you, Mordenna. I owe you so much.”

“You just owe me one thing.” He opened his arms. “Come on. Being siblings means you gotta pay your dues.”

Kon-Mai rolled her eyes and embraced him, giving him a squeeze almost as strong as Jax would.

Mordenna was originally going to find Gur-Rai when he was done with his project, but he didn’t need to. Behind him, the door slid open, and as he turned around, he saw Gur-Rai shamble inside, that stupid German rifle in his arms and eyes cast to the floor.

Mordenna’s heart dropped and his brows went up. “Hey, little brother.” He said, trying to sound casual so as not to scare him, but Gur-Rai still startled.

“Hey.” He gave Mordenna a quick, unsure smile and then took up one of the benches, quickly getting to work on the gun. Mordenna peeked over and caught a glimpse of a huge chunk of the wood splintered off, and the metal underneath was bent and peeling away.

“You still messing with that thing?” Mordenna murmured. “I’d just let it go. That gun is older than me.”

“Aw. You’re not old.” Gur-Rai muttered, his voice lacking it’s usual chirp.

“I’m older than you.” Mordenna put down his own project and slowly moved around the bench. “I just hit my fifties and am still going strong.”

Gur-Rai stopped and looked up. “...No way. You’re lying.”

“It’s true. I was in my thirties when the Elders nabbed me.”

“I think even I was younger than that.” Gur-Rai looked interested. “You must’ve been a great shot, for an old timer~”

“I would’ve taught you everything I knew.” Mordenna patted his hood, mindful not to pull it down at all. “I know your Volk is being an asshole and that’s his loss. I’d be proud of you, Gur-Rai. Even after all that, you haven’t lost that spark in your eye yet.”

Gur-Rai fell silent and stared down at the gun on the table. “...Really?”

“Yeah. You’re not as jaded as me, that’s for sure.” Mordenna chuckled. “Take my advice, now that the Elders aren’t holding your leash, hang onto that spark. It’s a wonderful thing you got there, and it makes people really happy to see.”

“What do you mean it makes them happy?” Gur-Rai grabbed some pliers and began pulling off the damaged wood. “And be straight with me, Mords. I don’t want jokes right now, and I really don’t want pity.”

Mordenna paused. “...Hey.” He put his hand closer to Gur-Rai’s arm, almost dangerously so. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want anyone else telling me how good a person I am when clearly, that is not the case.” With a crack, the remaining wood broke into two pieces and flew across the table. “At best? I’m annoying and childish, and at worst I’m a psychopath who uses humor to forget the horrible things I’ve done, and the latter is probably the most accurate.” He tossed the pliers aside. “Nobody is getting joy from this ugly mug, Mords. Only the Elders do, when they hear me scream.”

Mordenna paused, knowing he’d just hit a huge nerve and would have to proceed slowly. Luckily though, it also seemed like he unearthed something. “Do you really think of yourself that way?” He said softly. “Or is that what someone told you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.” Mordenna put his hand on Gur-Rai’s shoulder. “Put down the tools for a minute. We gotta talk.”

“Talk? About what?” Gur-Rai turned to face Mordenna. “I already know where babies come from.”

“Well that’s good but that’s not what I mean.” Mordenna leaned against the bench beside him. “Does all this have to do with that broken gun at all?”

Gur-Rai sighed. “...It was my fault.”

“Doubt it. But continue.”

“Emil was trying to fix a chip in the wood, I couldn’t really tell what he was doing, and I reached around to kiss him and...I guess I knocked the gun, and something came loose…” He gestured to the table.

“And your giving him a kiss managed to bend the metal?” Mordenna sounded skeptical.

“No, just chip the wood. The rest--the huge gash on the side and the metal--he did himself when he threw it at me.”

“He what.” Mordenna suddenly, deeply understood Kon-Mai’s worry. In fact, he was beginning to see red himself. “Over a scratch on a gun that should have been decommissioned before he was born?”

“I guess it’s a super important gun.” Gur-Rai muttered. “More important than me. And…yeah. I believe the exact words were ‘I could get any Muton with a dick twice your size and less of an attitude to fuck me, it’d feel exactly the same and be a lot easier.’”

Mordenna paused. “And then you offered to...fix his gun?”

“I mean, I broke it.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “And I just…” He pulled away from Mordenna, moving toward the middle of the room and stopping. “I’m gonna bring it to him later with some wine or something, he’ll take it all back…he’s been a sweetheart before, he made me feel…” From the crack in his voice, Mordenna could tell he was holding back tears. “Special. Chosen. And I went and fucked it up just like I did before.”

Mordenna knew of Gur-Rai’s other relationships (and the details, thanks in part to Gur-Rai’s prolific storytelling), but something about the way he said that felt different. It rang in Mordenna’s ears, loud and familiar.

“It’s not your fault that Camazotz hurt you.” Was all he said.

That seemed to do it. Gur-Rai curled in on himself like a shriveled up leaf, and began to shake violently as he sobbed into his hands. Mordenna came up behind him and put a gentle hand on his back, which then turned into him taking Gur-Rai by the shoulders and pulling him into a loose hug. Gur-Rai froze for a moment, still shaking, and then wrapped his arms around Mordenna so tight it almost made the latter cough. He buried his face in Mordenna’s shoulder and let out a weak, quiet sob.

“You didn’t fuck anything up.” He assured him, speaking to him as he would a comforting child. “Camazotz…maybe he thought he loved you, but what he did isn’t love. And it’s not how you treat your children. You didn’t deserve to be hurt by him, and you didn’t deserve a gun chucked in your face today.”

Gur-Rai sounded like he was trying to speak, but it came out as sobbing once again. Mordenna guided him over to a sitting bench and the two collapsed onto it, With Gur-Rai retreating into himself again until Mordenna unwrapped him from that knot and brought him back into his arms.

“I know how you feel.” He said. “God, I spent so long trying to get Odin to be proud of me. And sometimes he’d shell out little bits of praise, bits of affection that kept me hanging on just that much longer, but that’s not enough. It’s not enough to occasionally say you love someone until they upset you, because people who really love you will love you even when they’re angry.”

Gur-Rai flinched at that. “God, please, no. I can’t…I don’t want anyone else to hate me.”

“Gur-Rai, this ship is full of people who love you.” Mordenna insisted. “Let's start with your siblings. Your sister loves you so, so much, you know that?”

“I make her worry.”

“She worries herself, which is her own problem. But she wants you to be safe and happy. Your brother too. And us.” Mordenna rubbed his back. “You’ve been spending so much time down here with me…I feel like we’ve been family forever.”

Gur-Rai hesitated…then he looked up and chuckled. “I mean, you are old enough to be my dad.”

Mordenna snorted, then smirked. “Okay, fine. As your new dad, I’m vetoing all of Camazotz’s previous rulings.”

“Wait.” Gur-Rai blinked. “...Mords. Mords you…” He shook his head. “You probably shouldn't…you know me, I’m a trainwreck on very long legs! I’ll give you a heart attack before you hit 55!”

“Do you realize who you’re talking to?” Mordenna chuckled. “If Odin had had hair, I like to think I’d have turned him grey years ago. I’m not intimidated by the concept of guiding a slightly younger, frankly more childlike version of myself.” His face softened. “If you want it.”

“I…” Gur-Rai swallowed. “I just never had a dad…like a real dad…what do I even do?”

“First off, you sit here and let me hold you while you cry.” Mordenna pulled Gur-Rai back into a hug. “And, when I tell you I love you…you believe me.”

“...Okay.” Gur-Rai squeezed Mordenna back, burying his face in the warmth of his father’s shoulder. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good job. I…” Mordenna swallowed. “I love you, kiddo. Just as you are.”

As Gur-Rai settled in, and Mordenna gently rocked him back and forth, he began to plan out in his mind exactly what he would do to Emil when he was done down here. It had been a hot minute since Eliza had let him interrogate someone.

And maybe he’d bring Kon-Mai along too.

(I know SFTD will be reaching it’s final act sooner rather than later, let me just say again what an honor it has been to read it, to fully appreciate the Chosen and to get inspiration for my own story too! Hoping for more wonderful writings in the future!)

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom hunter #chosen hunter #mordenna is a good dad #gur-rai is just a boy

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kertneyk · 4 years ago

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Cute Delivery Boys

When you finally make it home, you are exhausted. Another long day, the paperwork for the academy took ages. Then you had to talk to everyone who had the monster route ahead of you and get the lowdown and map it out. Then the chief had you running all sorts of other in-office errands. Just because he knew you hated it. But the worst part of it was, you didn’t get to eat properly. You looked at the clock. 7:00. It wasn’t too late to make something, but you didn’t have any meat thawed out. And with as hungry as you were, you needed to induldge your carnivorous side tonight. Which would mean a trip to the store.

Or you could order in. You went to your wallet and took out the coupons Muffet gave you. One was buy one get one coupons for a burger and fry combo, the other was a free meal, delivery fee included; just pay tip. You look in your wallet folds, you had enough a good sized tip. And Chief Johnson did give you the weekend to integrate yourself in the monster community. What better way than by spending money? You try to talk yourself into the extravagence, you were supposed to be on a ramen diet afterall. But it isn’t nearly as difficult as you pretended it was. You are already pulling out your phone and dialing the phone number.

You really were not great with money.

You go down to the hallway closet and start pulling out some boxes while the phone rings. A very bored sounding man answers.

“This is Grillbys. Wha’ya want?” Ok....

“Um, you do delivery right?”

“Ya.”

“Ok, uh.” You think about what you actually want for a moment. “Triple cheese burger, extra onions, no mustard and a large order of chili fries. And load those babies up with cheese.”

“Tha it?”

“Yeah, I got a coupon for a free meal. You want me to read the code off the back, or just give it to the driver?”

“Read the code.” You read off your numbers.

“Ok, that’s it.”

“Sure. The address?” You rattle off your address for the guy.

“Oh! I’ll need to buzz the delivery guy in, but intercom is busted, so you’ll need to give them my number.”

“You gonna to be one of those pain’n tha ass people ar’ncha?” You laugh at his boldness. You really weren’t trying to make his night difficult.

“Not trying to I swear! But since you are gonna call me out like that, I better live up to it. Make sure to send your cutest delivery boy. Only cute guys get my number.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” He chuckles and you hear the line click. You shake your head. Yeah, monsters were going to give you a hard time starting Monday. Until then, might as well enjoy it. You wonder mildly if they were really going to send a cute monster to you. And if so, would you find them cute? Do monsters have a standard of beauty comparable to humans? Guess you’ll find out. You go grab a shower and change into some comfier clothes. Going for a pair of shorts and tank top. You then gather up your boxes and take them to the living room.

your cell phone starts ringing. You smirk when you see the unknown number. Must be your cute delivery boy!

“Yello, this is y/n.”

“Yah, got’a delivery from Grillbys fer ya.” You are surprised by how deep the voice is on the line. You said cute delivery boy, not ‘biker gang, don’t bring him home to meet your mama’ delivery boy. Oh well, you buzz him in.

“K, I buzzed you. See you in a sec.” Click. When you hear him finally knock on your door, you grab your wallet. You only had a twenty in there, but that was fine. It was a little excessive for a delivery tip on a burger and some fries, but since monsters couldn’t drive yet he probably had to take the bus. That would have sucked.

What greeted you when you opened your door was defintely not what you were expecting.

The monster in front of you was short. Like shorter than you short. He stood at about 4’6”. He was a skeleton, like GTP; but that was where the similarities stopped. Besides being short, the guy had a row of sharp, shark-like teeth with a golden fang on one side. His dark eye sockets glowed with the light of two pin pricks of red that made up his pupils. His head was round where GTP’s what more square and sharp. And the guy liked his red. His coat, a fur-lined hooded thing was black and red, he wore a red turtle-neck and his shorts were black with a single red stripe down the side.

The thing you noticed most about the delivery boy, however, had little to do with his appearance. His magic was blinding in its power. Out of all the monsters you’d met so far, this guy was easily the strongest!

Your shock must have shown on your face because he coughed to get your attention.

“see sometin ya like sweetheart?” His flirt was half-hearted and obviously not meant. In fact, he seemed almost disgusted with himself for even attempting it.

Ok, he was pretty cute.

“Heh, well yeah. I said ‘cute delivery boy.’ Glad to see Grillby is a man of his word.” You wink at him and watch his face erupt in a crimson blush. Blushing bones are totally a thing you guess. Two out of two skeletons can do it.

“W-wha! Wha ta fuck is wrong witcha? Don’t fuckin say shit like that.” He growls at you and shoves a bag between you two. “Here, take yer fuckin food so I can go.”

“But what if I don’t want you to go? Not every day a handsome stranger knocks on my door.” You say as you dodge the bag.

“Not my problem yer an ugly human. Can’t even attract yer own kind.” He tries again, and again you manage to not take it.

“Dude, that’s so harsh!” You clutch at your heart, “You gotta be nicer to ladies. We are delicate.”

“Yer a pain in the ass is whatcha are. Take yer damn food.” He growls at you, getting extremely frustrated.

“Not until you go back to calling me sweetheart. You’re really hurting my ego.”

“I don’t give a shit, sweetheart.” The word dripping in sarcasm. Obviously, he finds you less than sweet. He finally manages to shove the bag into your hand.

“Alright, alright. You win.” You chuckle a bit and he relaxes, seeing an end to his ordeal. “Here, hold this so I can get your tip.” You wave your wallet and hand the bag back to him. It takes him a second before he realizes what just happened.

“Fuck!” You cackle, picking on poor delivery boys should be beneath you. But no one ever said you were a mature adult.

“Oh come on, don’t be sore. That was good. And I really did need an extra hand to take out the cash.” You laugh some and take the bag, handing over the twenty after. You notice in his other hand he has another bag. Must be his next stop. His face is still red as he shoves the bill in his coat pocket and stomps off. You lean out your door and wave goodbye to his back.

“Farewell oh adorable stranger. May our paths cross again!” He flips you off then vanishes down the stairs. He was cute. But really rude. And definitely a more accurate representation of the troubles you will be having interacting with monsters in the future. Of course, he might have been more receptive to your charms if you hadn’t looked at him like that. He was probably sick of people looking at him like a sideshow attraction. You decide that if you ever see him again, you would definitely be nicer. And look at him less.

Sans POV

Oh Sans was going to let Grillby have it next time he went in! Who sends Sans the Skeleton to play delivery boy with a fuckin pervert human? Cute! She said he was cute! Lying shit bag human! Skeletons weren’t fuckin cute.

And so fucking bold too! Most people avert their eyes when they are caught staring at him. Oh no! Not this bitch. When he called you out, he just made it worse! He fumes as he thinks about it.

He takes the turn around your apartment building and then shortcuts back home. He kicks his shoes off in the entryway and slams the bag on the table.

He should have known Grillby was up to no good when he brought Sans a bag of free food. He had been nursing a bottle of mustard, unable to afford his usual tonight. Boss had cracked down on what money Sans was allowed to carry, and Grillz had closed out his tab when they all came up to the surface. So when Grillz said all Sans had to do was deliver a burger to a dumb human, and he would even get to keep the tip, Sans said sure. It was just one human. Well, never again. He was never do any more shitty fucking deliveries for shitty fucking humans. He is interupted from his thoughts by his phone. That was odd, Boss was havin another cooking competition at Undyne’s. Hopefully they weren’t asking him to come and judge. He shudders as he checks the message.

Unknown: Hey, this is the girl you just delivered to. I was rude, sorry.

BZZT

Unknown: Question though? Did I insult your boss when I ordered my burger no mustard? Cause.... it looks like I did.

BZZT

Unknown: Seriously, it looks like I have a hit out on me from a mustard loving monster mafia.

The next text is a picture of his regular. A burger and fries, everything absolutely covered in mustard. Shit! He grabs the bag on the table and rips it open. The fries in this bag coated in chili and cheese. He gave her the wrong bag! Tch, not his problem. He could always scrap off the chili and he has mustard here he could put on his own burger.

BZZT

Unknown: It’s everywhere! Oh god, the poor burger, it’s bleeding mustard.

BZZT

Unknown: This is downright disrespectful.

Another picture of the burger, but with a little handwritten RIP sign held above it. He can’t help but snicker a little.

Sans: wrong bag. deal with it

BZZT

Unknown: Oh good, you can get texts. I was worried for a second that I was texting the void.

BZZT

Unknown: I did see you had another bag in your hand. Could I meet you somewhere to swap? I was really excited about the chili on my fries.

Sans: no learn 2 like mustard

BZZT

Unknown: Dude, that is cold.

BZZT

Unknown: Cold like the corpse of this mustard burger. Is it even a burger? All I see is mustard.

BZZT

Unknown: Please save me from condiment hell!

Sans: why should i

BZZT

Unknown: Besides the fact that you would be helping a beautiful stranger?

BZZT

Unknown: Kidding! Don’t answer that. My ego probably couldn’t take whatever terrible response you were writing.

BZZT

Unknown: I am officially out of cash now, but I would owe you one. I really don’t want to have to call back to the restaruant.

Sans palms his face, sighing loudly. It wouldn’t take much to go back and exchange the bags. And Grillby would probably charge him for the burger if he had to make another. He reads the last message again, smirking as he does. You said you would ‘owe him one’ it would be nice to have a human owe him something for a change. Make you do something embarrassing. Or maybe just make you go to Grillbys yourself. See how you like it when everyone stares at you.

Sans: fine. U owe me. ur place couple min

BZZT

Unknown: YAS! I shall await your return!

#Non-cannon fanfic #underfell #underfell sans #takeout mixup #failed flirts #blushy bones #just having fun #bonus content #look i'm using tumblr for my intended purpose

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septic-skele · 4 years ago

Text

UT - Growing Pains

Summary: Even if they don't fully understand it, the monsters try to offer Frisk comfort and support when she gets her first period.

With a thundering heart, a lump in her throat and tears pricking her wide eyes, Frisk stared down at the wet, warm fabric twisted around her ankles.

Something was wrong with her. Her HP hadn’t changed and yet she was bleeding.

She had woken up, achy, hot and needing the bathroom just a few minutes ago. She should have known the dull, deep stomachache wasn’t normal, but seeing the dark, sticky seat of her pajamas only compounded the growing panic. Blood, she’d seen before. Blood that appeared for no reason? How could that happen?

A choked noise escaped as her first thought was of resets—something she’d done, a fight, an injury from another timeline, quite literally bleeding into this one, but how could that happen without any HP evidence? She had checked and doubled-checked it, finding no damage, which meant healing items wouldn’t do anything to help.

Was she sick? The tremors running through her and the feverish heat clinging to her might confirm it. Alphys might figure it out, but if it scared her as much as it was scaring Frisk, what if she couldn’t focus on finding a way to fix it?

Don’t cry. You…You’ve had worse than this. A lot worse. Just…stay determined.

Sucking in a ragged breath and biting her lip to hold it, Frisk kicked off the stained pants and, after a moment’s thought, hesitantly shuffled for one of the bathroom towels to wrap herself. Legs weak underneath her, stomach throbbing and jittery with nerves, she shuffle-limped tearfully out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Mom will know. She knows a lot, she has to know. She can make it okay.

________________________________________

As it turned out, though she had no firsthand experience with it, Toriel did know. She now had Frisk bundled up against her on the couch, head resting on her knee as she ran a paw over her hair and warm forehead. With a low, quivery sigh the child relaxed, soothed by the ministrations.

It had taken some doing to get there; the early morning had been fraught with panic. Papyrus’ scream when he found bloody trousers in the bathroom had woken everyone in the house and forced Toriel to fight for some semblance of control. She had given the shortest explanation possible for the sake of time and then sent Papyrus to the store with a list of some basic supplies. Speaking of which, Toriel could hear his scrambling strides long before he kicked open the door.

“The great Papyrus returns! I bring all of the necessary provisions for your ultimate care and comfort, human!” he hollered breathlessly, grocery bags brimming in his arms. “You will be pleased to hear that after clearing the so-called ‘Feminine Care’ aisle, I took the liberty of sweeping the ‘Health and Wellness’ aisle for disinfectant, bandages and gauze!”

“As much as we appreciate your thoughtfulness, Papyrus, my child isn’t injured,” Toriel reminded him patiently.

“How can that be?” he scoffed as he shuffled his burdens onto the nearby table. At least a dozen packs of pads in varying sizes spilled out and onto the floor. “I was told before I left that she was bleeding and in pain! Is that not still true, human?”

Tired, halfhearted signs from Frisk assured him that it was very much the truth and he huffed, folding his arms and giving the Queen an expectant stare that spoke volumes of “You see?”

“U-Um, I’ve been doing a lot of research on h-human biology,” Alphys piped up. “T-Tori—Queen Toriel asked me to find out whatever I could s-since Frisk is staying with her f-for the foreseeable future…So anyway…No, she’s not injured, Papyrus. Approximately half of the human p-population experiences bleeding like this every month, once they c-come of age.”

“Wh—Seriously? Frisk is going to get laid up like this every single month? As in every month, every year, forever?!” Undyne sputtered. “That’s just a big hassle! Humans come with so many botched parts! Never mind bleeding out; if I were the one dealing with it, I’d probably just get bored to death!”

“Good heavens, Frisk is not going to bleed to death!” Toriel exclaimed, paw tightening against Frisk’s head as she shuddered. “It is only a small portion of blood to lose. She ought to be well again in a week or so. Correct, Alphys?”

“Yeah, that’s right! She should be j-just fine,” Alphys promised hastily, wringing her claws as she mustered the courage to rush on. “And, Undyne, I think that if humans like her do have to deal with this every month, it…it must make them p-pretty tough. Right? So Frisk shouldn’t, um…be made to feel bad about it. You know?”

She must have noticed how the flush in Frisk’s face had deepened, leading her to curl deeper into her throw blanket. After everything Frisk had done to influence their kind, it was easy to forget sometimes that she could still be a scared, uncertain kid. For a moment Undyne looked stricken at the realization, throwing her hands up in surrender.

“Oh! I wasn’t implying she should feel bad about it! She probably already feels bad enough; it’s gotta suck! It’s not her fault her body’s turning traitor. Uhh…” Hoping to compensate, she forced a toothy grin. “Hey! Maybe it’ll make for some sick scars!”

Rather unlikely, Toriel thought with some amusement, though she didn’t correct her. Undyne seemed to have the same trouble that Papyrus did, understanding blood without a wound.

“Hey, kid. I got a bag of rice warmed up,” Sans greeted as he strolled out of the kitchen toward the couch. “Should be nice for your side, right? Down but hot out.”

“Brother! You actually cooked something?” Papyrus gasped, belatedly forced to fight his instinctive smile in exchange for a distasteful sniff. “Of course, I would feel some modicum of pride for you if it weren’t for that infuriating pun!”

“Well, that’s not very rice of you,” Sans retorted, laying an affected hand over his soul. “That heat me too close to home! If you’re going to insult some rare, special edition cooking, at least give me some advance warming.”

He glanced to the couch, where the lump under the blanket was shaking in silent laughter. Toriel chuckled too and it spurred him on. “I put in a hot of effort to do this, y’know. It was no easy heat. Maybe it’ll leave a hot to be desired—or for all I know, this is as good as it sweats! I had to rice to the challenge and give it my best hot, for the kid’s sake. Don’t grain on my parade.”

“Alright, alright! By the time you finish, it’s sure to go cold!” Papyrus groaned, shoving Sans toward the couch so he could hand the rice bag off to its owner. “How did you successfully use the same ‘hot’ wordplay more than once in four sentences?!”

“I’m just that good.” At Toriel’s nod of approval, Sans poked a couple of fingers under the blanket, pulling its corner back to reveal Frisk wearing a watery smile. He returned it. “There, see? That’s the brave kid we know. You’ve got this.”

She accepted the hot bag with a signed thank-you, wincing faintly as she draped it over her sore stomach. It would stay toasty for a good, long while, warmth trapped under the blanket’s folds.

“And, uh, don’t tell your mom or anything,” Sans added with a quick wink to counter Toriel’s raised eyebrow. “But I might have snagged some chocolate I can sneak to you later. If you’re gonna be lazing around with me for a week, I gotta show you how to get cavities properly.”

“I must applaud your model example, my friend,” Toriel huffed, though it didn’t hold too much reproach. Her mind was already wandering. If Chara were still…That chocolate would have been long gone before Sans could come across it.

This bleeding was just another reminder of how quickly Frisk was growing up. How would Chara have treated this coming of age, had it come to pass? How comforted would Frisk be to have a sibling who understood?

With wistful fondness, she would always be left to wonder.

#undertale #fanfiction #frisk #female frisk #toriel #papyrus #papyrus undertale #alphys #undyne #sans #sans undertale #growing up #menstruation #interspecies awkwardness #fluff #domestic fluff #family fluff

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

Note

Psstttt...I think you're an awesome writer, thank you for filling my day with Jaskier stuff! Also how about “Oh who cares what they think!? I want you!” with Jaskier and a plus size reader? x Hope you have a wonderful day!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,230Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Here you go! Hope you like it!

The life of a lady’s maid was usually very simple.

You lived in the house you worked so you just woke up, got dressed, and spent your day following around your mistress, making sure that every beck and call was seen to either by you or someone else. Today, however, seeing to her needs meant taking her place at a ball. The infamously difficult Countess de Stael’s ball. You’d tried to plead your way out of it but here you were, a note in hand from your mistress explaining her absence which apparently you had to personally deliver otherwise it was an insult. You had been trussed into a dress and sent in her ladyship’s own carriage which you would have enjoyed immensely if you hadn’t been so desperately scared.

When you arrived the ball was already in full swing. You’d hoped you could just pop in and back out quickly but there was already a long receiving line to speak with the Countess. You stepped into it and tried to just focus on your shoes or the back of the person in front of you, ignoring the whispers and odd looks you received. When you were about halfway to the Countess you heard a voice. A beautiful, lilting, happy voice that called to you. You saw him across the hall, performing a song to the great enjoyment of the crowd around him though his smile looked a little forced when he bowed to the Countess afterward. He caught you watching him and you saw him glance past and then look back again, a genuine smile alighting his face as he gave you a little nod. You nodded back and swiftly looked away, a little embarrassed at being caught staring. You slowly made your way closer and were roughly three people behind the Countess when you heard a voice say,

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?”

You paled, certain that you’d been caught and that you would finally face the scrutiny you’d feared, and turned to find the bard you’d watched earlier standing close by, giving you a rogue-ish smile.

“What do you mean?” you asked. He noticed your changed demeanor and the cocky charm fell away to genuine concern.

“I only meant that… surely you should be in a higher court. Entertaining queens and kings with your beauty and grace, not a mere local nobleperson,” he said, though quietly so no one but you overheard. He’d leaned in to whisper it and you were struck by the lovely hue of his eyes, a blue that was hard to place. You could stare into those eyes forever but another person was dismissed and you stepped one closer.

“Please allow me to start over. I am Jaskier de Lettenhove, and you are?” he asked, extending a hand. The person in front of you was dismissed quickly and the one after was turned away without a word, leaving you suddenly in front of the Countess, Jaskier by your side. The Countess glanced from you to Jaskier and gave a very unpleasant smile.

“Countess de Stael,” you said, curtseying clumsily, “I come with word from her ladyship the Duchess de – ”

“And who are you?” she asked, her voice sweet but tone venomous.

“I am Y/N,” you began and before you could continue, she cut you off again.

“Just Y/N? No title?” she asked. You felt your cheeks redden as more eyes fell to you at the Countess’s loud interrogation but you tried to stay focused on your task.

“No, your ladyship, this letter expl-”

“My goodness, Jaskier, it seems you really are scraping at the bottom of the barrel. Well, if she could sink, that is. She looks rather like one who cannot but help to float.”

The Countess began to laugh, her little coterie laughing with her and your eyes smarted with angry tears. Jaskier seized the letter from your hands and threw it at the Countess before taking your hand and marching away. The Countess yelled something else, some barb that you didn’t hear due to the blood rushing through your ears but Jaskier’s hand gripped yours tighter at the words as he hauled you through the dance hall out into the backyard. He didn’t stop until you were far enough away that the din of the party was a distant murmur instead of an overwhelming chorus.

“You’re going to be in serious trouble,” you said, not knowing what else to say and not wanting to acknowledge the words she’d said to you. Jaskier scoffed, pacing angrily.

“I’m not new to being in trouble with her. I don’t care about that. Are you alright?” he asked, turning his attention fully on you with an intensity that startled and thrilled you.

“Not especially!” you answered, laughing, “I mean… that was… they are… gods I hate nobility.”

Jaskier winced slightly at your words and gave a weak laugh.

“Yeah they’re a rough bunch of pricks aren’t they,” he said. Something in his tone gave you pause.

“Oh gods, you’re a nobleman aren’t you?” you asked, your heart sinking. He gave you a guilty smile.

“Jaskier I’m cocking this all up, please go inside and distance yourself from me while you have the chance. I’ll find a way out of this whole mess,” you said, sitting on a little stone bench and planting your face in your hands. You heard him move closer and take a seat next to you on the bench.

“Distancing myself from you is actually the opposite of what I’d hoped,” he said. You sat up, pulling your hands away from your face and fixing him with an incredulous look.

“How can that possibly be true?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Well I find you absolutely gorgeous to start so there’s that and then there’s the fact that I know next to nothing about you but what I do know so far, that you’re brave and dedicated and able to hold your head up high when being met with absolute savagery, is deeply compelling,” he said, ticking off the reasons on his fingers like a child doing basic math.

“But you heard what they said Jaskier I-”

“Oh who cares what they think? I want you,” he replied emphatically, taking your hand in his.

You laughed and threw your head back, taking a deep breath as you considered the odd turn the night had taken. You felt Jaskier’s eyes on you and you turned to face him, those beautiful blue eyes an echo of the stars above you.

“I am a lady’s maid with no prospects for the future and no great accomplishments,” you said.

“I am a viscount who has greatly disgraced his house by becoming a wandering bard with many great accomplishments but all would pale in comparison to that of receiving your good favor. And perhaps your permission to call for you in the future. The very near future. Five minutes after I escort you back home if I can, frankly,” he said, making you laugh though you saw that he was sincere.

“I would like that very much,” you said, marveling at the way his already luminous eyes grew brighter at your words. He rose, taking your arm in his, and walked you around the large manor, avoiding the crowds, lost in each other’s company all the way back to your carriage.

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier x plus size reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff

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papa-rhys · 5 years ago

Text

Shared Empires (Rhys X Reader)

Note: Wow it’s literally been like over a year and a half since I wrote/posted fanfic, how do I even format this shit? I legit can’t remember so here goes

Warnings: none

Word count: 2131

Category: fluff

It’s been seven years since the fiasco with Handsome Jack and Hyperion, but you still can’t shake that blasted gaudy yellow colour from your mind’s eye whenever you see Rhys.

It’s hardly fair to keep associating him with the limp-dicked prick that awakened the Warrior - Rhys is the opposite of Jack in every way, except for the zeros in his bank account and the need to have an office with ceilings that are far too high (how are you supposed to kill spiders when they’re that high up?) Rhys is bumbly and friendly and harmless enough. And he’s better-looking, too. But that yellow colour is seared into your retinas for an eternity and there’s a tiny part of your unreasonable lizard brain that feels the need to point out Rhys’ involvement in what Hyperion did every time you come a little too close to enjoying yourself in his presence.

Still, he’s paying your wages as of right now and a deal is a deal; help him win this war against Maliwan and he’ll make sure you never struggle for a meal again. And if there’s anything at all that you’re good at, it’s killing corporations dead in the water.

“How you diddling, Mr Hyperion?” you ask, striding into Rhys office and feeling mighty proud of the frown you pull from him. This kind of tingle could only come from irking Rhys, you think. Or from finding the juicy photos Moxxi keeps stashed on her echo device.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” Rhys says, handing you a gun as you cross the floor of his office and reach him where he stands.

“You did,” you chirp, cheerfully, “I just didn’t listen. What’s this for?”

Rhys straightens his back, puffs his chest out a little; all the hallmarks of a man who’s ever-so-proud of himself. He stands with his hands on his hips and his chin held high and you’re itching to throw out another teasing insult, just to bring him down a peg. It’s not fair to tease him so often and you know it, but lord is it fun to see him blush. And you’re, like, ninety percent certain he enjoys it, too.

“That is the finest Atlas weapon on the market,” he informs you. “It’s a reward… for killing that nutjob with the miniguns... You’re welcome.”

You look the gun over and shrug with one shoulder, then you stash it in your backpack and shrug the bag off, lobbing it onto one of the too-big sofas in the lavish seating area of the office. There’s no way in any reality that Rhys reads enough books to justify the size of those bookshelves, but you suppose rich people have to spend their money on something.

“What’s next on the to-do list, then, boss?” you ask, hopping up and sitting on the back of the sofa, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Okay, I could really get used to you calling me boss,” Rhys says. “It’s... actually kind of a turn on, so let’s not talk about that anymore. Nothing is the answer to your question.” You pull your head back against the barrage of words that just flitted your way, but there’s no time to process them. Rhys is talking again. It seems he does that often. “There’s nothing on the to-do list,” he continues. “For once, we have a break in the chaos. Can’t tell you the last time that happened, I’m actually kinda miffed about it. I’m very accustomed to fearing for my life. But we’re off the clock for a while, so relish in the quiet for a while. You earned it!”

You let yourself slip backwards onto the sofa, laying upside down and stretching your arms out each side of you. He’s not the only one who’s used to living a fast-paced life. Quiet is the exact opposite of your job description. Shooting, murdering, setting things on fire - all things that you’re far more suited to.

“Whatever will I do with all of this free time?” you ask, gazing up at the ceiling and watching a spider making the trek from one side to the other. Maybe Rhys has a step ladder he uses to kill them?

Rhys meddles with something out of view and music begins playing on a record player at the edge of the room - the soft, sweet kind that couples dance to; not the tedious wub-wubs that claptrap tortures you all with. Rhys comes back into view again when he leans over the back of the sofa, resting on his elbows. “We could try some dancing?” He says the words like he’s asking a question, wincing slightly as he tests the waters.

This is one of those moments that lizard brain ruins; reminding you of Rhys’ past and what it meant to you seven years ago. The fighting and the taunting and the constant cat and mouse. The people you lost, the ones you couldn’t save. Jack’s barrage of insults and moonshots; spat at you in equal measure. Rhys could have pushed the button on any one of those moonshots, your lizard brain suggests. He was complicit.

But that was then, wasn’t it? And this is now. He learned lessons from Jack. He’s different. And there’s no point in fighting for the future if you still spend all of your time in the past. It’s okay to enjoy a little taste of what you’re fighting for.

A smile spreads slowly across your lips and you cock an eyebrow. “You? Dancing? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“You’ve never seen my dancing,” he says accusingly, though there’s an upwards slant to one side of his mouth. “I have moves like no one else.”

“No doubt about that,” you tease, letting him help you up off the sofa.

The music tinkles and hums in the background as the two of you head for the centre of the office, surrounded by nothing but empty space. You shake out your hands and feet, warming up like you’re gearing for battle, and Rhys shakes his head with a smile.

“You really don’t know how to be graceful, do you?” he asks.

“Don’t get paid to be graceful, Rhysie boy,” you reply, rolling your neck until it cracks softly. “I get paid to kill stuff.”

“Well, let’s hang fire on that for now, shall we?” Rhys holds out his hands and you take them, letting him guide you. He’s better at dancing than you thought he’d be, but only slightly. Better - [quotation marks] - meaning he hasn’t yet tripped over his feet. But the night is still young, so you’ll not rule that out just yet.

He spins you and dips you and you both mutter a wealth of light-hearted insults between the pair of you. His bright smile could almost trick you into thinking he’s good at this. That he’s not a bumbling idiot with a too-big office and two left feet. A part of him is actually quite suave... in his own way.

“Am I impressing you?” he asks.

“Give me a minute and I’ll decide,” you smile as he spins you around on the spot.

“Oh, come on, I’m impressing you. Admit it, I’m great at this.”

He pulls a laugh from you, and against your better judgement, you allow it. There’s no way he’ll ever let you forget it if you compliment him on his dancing skills, so you opt for something with a little more self-preservation. A safe middle ground.

“You’re making a good effort,” you offer.

“Pfft,” comes the reply. He twirls you outwards and pulls you back in again.

“Okay then, hotshot,” you say, landing against his chest with a soft oof, the breath catching in your chest. “You’re a lot better than I expected you’d be. How’s that?”

He grins widely, the smile reaching his eyes. One of them is blue, the other a hazel colour that looks almost as electronically enhanced as the other. Do eyes naturally come in colours that bright? There’s a moment that seems to stretch for an extraordinarily long length of time, where you find yourself questioning the bizarre and totally irrational urge to do something weird, like kissing him or something. What madness that would be, right? Crazy.

You’ve both slowed down, now, the dancing mostly forgotten. All that’s left is a gentle sway as he speaks. “I wanna ask you something,” he says. “But I’m a little bit terrified of you.”

“A little bit terrified?” you echo. “No need to be scared of me unless you’re thinking about cutting my wages.”

He gives a nervous laugh that fades off as quickly as it’d had appeared. “Your wages are safe with me,” he says. “But that’s kind of along the lines of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on…”

Rhys spins you around to face the window behind his desk, the entire city visible beyond it in all its glowing glory. The neon lights paint a million different colours on the floor of the office and the sky is speckled with explosions that almost look pretty if you imagine that they’re not a product of war. The whole office is flooded by the view, buildings visible through every window.

“I wanna share this with you,” Rhys says. “All of it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him, the light flooding your eyes, overloading you with input.

“I don’t want all this to myself,” he explains. “It’s too much. Kingdoms are meant to be shared, right? Well, I wanna share this one with you. If you’d want that, obviously.”

“You mean, like, business partners?”

He laughs, nervous again. “If business partners are in love with each other, then yeah, I guess.”

You turn to face him and look up at him with your eyebrows raised. Now it’s your turn to blush; not an easy task for someone to accomplish. Touche, Mr Hyperion.

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” he asks, watching you as you look up at him, slightly dumbfounded. Then he seems to cave in on himself a little, shoulders slumping. “I know you’re only here because I’m paying you to be here and I know you’re waaaaay too cool to ever feel that way about an idiot like me, but I figured I’d give it a try anyway, you know? And see if maybe you’d - “

You push up onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips, cursing him for being lanky enough to make you put effort into kissing him. If he were any taller, you’d need a harness and those stabby things that rock climbers jab into cliff faces.

He holds onto your waist as you kiss and for all his bumbling and lack of self-assurance, he soon takes to it, cupping your jaw with one hand and leaning down to meet you halfway.

Your own hands take hold of the collar of his vest, gripping fabric on either side and using it to pull him towards you. With shuffling steps, the two of you are edging towards the desk as one, all stumbling and heavy breathing, carefully making your way up the shallow steps, until you hit the edge of the desk.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate way to act with your employees,” you breathe.

“Then you’re fired,” Rhys says. “There; now you’re not an employee.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears to match the beat. Wobbly legs and and a woozy light-headedness tell you that your body is pumping adrenaline through you at record pace. It’s different than the feeling you get on the battlefield; you feel so much more out of your depth here. Out there, you have a rhythm - motions to go through. Routine. But here, you’re just going with the flow, not quite knowing what you’re doing. A new partner means a new rhythm. A new pattern to be learned. What makes Rhys tick? What does he like and dislike? What does he -

“Oh!”

The two of you break apart at the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. Surprise in both of your faces matches the surprise in Lorelei’s voice. She watches you with her arms folded across her chest and her hip jutted out to one side as you and Rhys gather yourselves up.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’d walked in on you in a compromising position, I’d be able to buy you out,” she tells Rhys. He smiles uncomfortably and fixes his tie. “But this takes the bloody cake,” she adds.

“We were celebrating,” you offer.

Lorelei hums. “I’ll bet,” she says, looking amused. “But you were celebrating prematurely. Maliwan just showed up at the front door and they’re not bothering to ring the doorbell. Need you outside, Vault Hunter.”

Rhys sighs heavy and turns to you, the last traces of his pant visible in the way his chest moves with each breath. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Yeah,” you agree, sighing. You smooth out your hair and make your way over to the seating area to collect your backpack, crossing the room on shaky legs. Hauling your bag onto your shoulders, you pick out your favourite gun and check that it’s loaded. “Alright,” you muse, nodding to Rhys and then to Lorelei, “back to work, then.”

#I've been fantasising about this scenario for days #rhys strongfork #borderlands 3 #borderlands fanfiction #rhys the company man #tftbl #tales from the borderlands #my writing #writing: rhys strongfork

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