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nicksolemnlyswears · 1 year ago

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THE MENTOR

summary: coriolanus takes it upon himself to show you the ropes of pleasure

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, female masturbation, mention of male masturbation, breast play, talks of virginity loss, perv! coriolanus, slight cum play, corruption kink is very prominent LEAVE ME ALONE IM PREDICTABLE, MY MIND IS ROTTEN

a/n: i'm back again! didn't expect it to be so soon but alas i cannot control myself. this can be read as a stand alone or as a prequel for my other one shot ways to destress. i'm working on part 2 for ways to destress but have this while i finish it <3

requests open ✨

Coriolanus steals glances at you from his spot on the desk. You sat cross-legged on your bed, deep in thought, biting the eraser end of the pencil in your fingers. He's formulating ideas about you instead of focusing on the report he has to present to Dr. Gaul tomorrow.

It's the first time you've invited him into your family home since you became a couple four months ago, and you're all alone in the big mansion. He can't help but wonder if anything will come out of it.

Despite being in a serious relationship for four months, Coriolanus has only kissed you. Nothing more and nothing less. It was one of your conditions because he's your first boyfriend.

'Let's take things slow, Coriolanus,' you had said back then, looking at him with those puppy dog eyes you'd mastered.

You're a timid girl. It's why you've never truly had a boyfriend before. None of the other boys you've been on dates managed to coax you out of your shell enough for them to pursue the relationship, except for Coriolanus. He took his time with you, becoming your friend, gaining your trust, and finally asking you out.

It wasn't by chance that he took that route to court you. He's been watching you since you stepped into the classroom last year. The annoyance he felt about being a teaching assistant swept away as a brand new opportunity sat in front of the class like a good student.

He recognized you and the crest on the gold ring you always wear. Your family is wealthy, and they have a great reputation amongst the Capitol's elite. It would benefit him to associate himself with you and, by proxy, your family.

Coriolanus felt luck was on his side when you approached him with questions about the homework the Professor handed out. You served yourself in a silver dish platter for his hungry ambition.

One year later, he has you wrapped around his little finger.

He'd be lying if he said he doesn't have feelings for you. Just as he infiltrated your life, you infiltrated his heart. You're sweet and kind, book smart, and beautiful. He'd be a fool not to feel anything towards you.

When you groan about the essay you're supposed to write and the crease between your eyebrows deepens, Coriolanus steps in.

"It's time for a break, don't you think?" He gently asks, closing your notebook and putting it to the side.

"I guess," you sigh, looking up at him with a pout.

You've been distracting yourself from Coryo's penetrating gaze and general presence in your personal space. You had invited him with the pretense of a study date, seeing as your body asks for something else.

It's time you give Coryo more. He's been incredibly patient with you, just as you'd asked. Still, your heart pounds in your chest at the thought of him touching you like no one ever has, and the knot in your throat prevents you from saying it out loud.

Coriolanus sits on the bed with you, cupping your jaw in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You lean into his touch with a soft smile, leaning into your body's desire, and you kiss him. It's enough to spark the salacious thoughts in Coriolanus's head.

He deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue on your plump bottom lip, begging you to let him in. Just like he taught you, you open your mouth, letting his tongue lick the inside of your mouth, tasting the cherry drink you love so much.

The corners of Coriolanus's lips slightly curve upwards; he's so proud of himself and you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you, and he willingly leans into you, hugging your hips.

Finding the position mildly uncomfortable, he lifts you to straddle his lap. Immediately, you tense under his hold and pull back. It's instinctual as your thoughts suddenly surface and cause you to overthink.

"Are you alright?" Coriolanus asks you with feigned concern. He knows the reason why, but you're important to him. In his eyes, you're perfect for him, and he doesn't want to screw things up.

"I'm just nervous," you admit, diverting your gaze to his collar and fixing it.

You're tired of feeling behind in life when your friends talk about sex. You're tired of that ache inside you that you can't satiate. You're tired of pulling away each time Coryo makes any move on you when all you want is to feel his skin against yours.

It's only been a few months, but your feelings for Coriolanus Snow run deep. Many will call you a fool for falling into the claws of first love, but it's a mistake you must make on your own.

If anyone is to take your firsts, it'll be Coriolanus.

"Do you want me to stop touching you?" He asks, loosening his hold on you.

Coriolanus is ready to learn the extent of your inexperience. It's been a topic you've only briefly touched upon. Yes, you're a virgin. Has anyone touched you, though, or given you any sort of pleasure?

"No!" You exclaim too forwardly, embarrassing yourself. It spurs Coriolanus, though, as he softly grins. "I mean, no. This is okay. You can keep touching me," you say as you return his hand to its designated spot in the curve of your hips.

"Darling…" he calls, but your gaze remains on his chest as strands of hair cover your face, "Look at me."

When your eyes meet his steely blue ones, he continues, "Have you ever touched yourself?"

"Why are you asking me this?" You ask with your eyes wide and nervous.

"I just want to see how much you know and how far you want to go. I'd feel terrible if I somehow make you uncomfortable or force you into anything you don't want," he responds honestly. Keeping you close to him is his priority, and if controlling his urges is necessary, then be it.

"Oh…" you sigh. You close your eyes tightly before opening them again and responding, "Yes, I do."

"Tell me how," he says. It's not really a question but a command.

Your face burns as you disclose information that is normally private, "I, um, touch my clit."

"I see," Coriolanus nods encouragingly, squeezing your hips, "Do you think about me?" He asks teasingly, giving you a hard time.

The more he asks, the more you relax onto his body, too stuck in your head to notice.

"Sometimes," you admit with a soft smile.

Coriolanus is satisfied with your answer for now. In the future, when he asks again, he needs the answer for it to be always. He'll be halfway there by the end of the 'study date.'

"Has anybody touched you before?" It's the one question he's been most curious about.

"No," you shake your head.

Coriolanus is over the moon. His thoughts get more and more deranged with your confession as his dark side begs him to take away your innocence and corrupt you to his liking.

"Would you like me to?" He asks, grasping her jaw with two fingers to force her wandering eyes to settle on his. He hasn't even touched you properly, and you're breathing heavily. He wonders what's going on in that pretty little head of yours.

You're praising whatever god exists, thanking them for Coryo's forwardness. You don't think you could've gotten the words out otherwise.

"Yes," you answer shyly as excitement builds inside you.

With a short kiss, Coryo places you by the top of the bed, propped up by your many pillows. Your comfort is his top priority today. He wants you to come back for more, after all.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he whispers in your ear as he kisses your cheek.

Coriolanus feels your shaky breaths as he kisses down the expanse of your neck. He takes it as a good sign when you stretch it out more for him.

"Coryo," you bite back a moan when he finds your sweet spot.

He gently bites into your delicate skin, leaving a soft red mark. Coriolanus can't visibly mark you yet, or he'll cast a wrong impression on your father. So, he settles for red flowers that will disappear by morning.

His fingers expertly unbuttoned the crisp white blouse of the university's uniform. He lifts his head briefly to look at the pale pink bra that deprives him of your breasts. It's pretty and innocent, like you.

"You're beautiful, darling," he says when he spots your nervous eyes waiting for his approval.

Dipping down once more, he mouths the mounds of your breasts, leaving wet kisses on your skin. Coriolanus wraps his mouth over the cups of your bra, teasing you, introducing you to his touch.

Sitting up, he helps you shrug off the white blouse. He kisses you to distract you from his hands that wrap around you, unclasping the bra. He's pleasantly surprised with the neediness you kiss him with. Poor thing must've been wanting this for a while.

Coriolanus pushes you back down with his weight, never breaking the kiss. He slides your bra off and throws it into a corner of the room. Pulling away, he looks at your bare chest, licking his lips lustfully.

You deprive him of the sight when you insecurely cross your arms to cover yourself. It peeves Coriolanus to no end. Surely, you must know what a sight you are.

"Don't cover yourself, darling. You're beautiful," he says, grabbing one of her hands and kissing her palm.

"T-thank you," you stutter out, letting your other arm fall to the side.

Coriolanus finds it precious how polite you are to him. How compliant you act with a couple of kind words from him. That's just how he likes it.

Coriolanus begins with a simple touch. He traces a path down your neck with the pad of his finger, trailing it across your skin and up the swell of your breasts. He circles the stiffening peak of your nipple, giving it a cheeky tug.

He's happy with the moan that falls from your lips despite him barely doing anything. Taking it up another notch, he leans his head down to latch onto your nipple, the fat of your breast filling his mouth.

Coriolanus releases a moan of his own as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and you arch your back into it. However, he's unhappy with the lack of contact from you.

Reaching for one of your hands, he places it on the back of his head, urging you to touch him. This is only fun if you want to touch him as much as he wants to touch you.

One hand digs into his hair, and the other wraps around his back. Coriolanus goes back and forth between one breast and the other, incorporating new things for you. Kissing, sucking, pinching, squeezing, biting. He's confident he's made the right choice with you when you respond beautifully to one of his bites.

"Yes, Coryo, more," you whine and beg when he tugs on your nipple with his teeth. For that, he leaves a pretty purple bruise on your chest. A reward for himself.

"That's it, darling. Don't hold your pretty moans from me any longer," Coriolanus purrs, finding your red-bitten lips.

Coriolanus involuntarily ruts into you when you slip your tongue into his mouth. His girl was turning bolder by the minute; all she needed was to be touched.

No one can shake the innocence off you as you moan and widen your eyes when you feel his hard cock press into you. Coriolanus is straining against his trousers and has been for a while now. This whole situation is a fantasy come to life and it makes him throb.

He must control himself. He cares about you greatly, and with that level of care comes control. Control over himself and you. Three years ago, he failed to control himself, and he failed to control Lucy Gray. He can't afford to make the same mistake. There is more at stake now.

Realistically, Coryo has barely touched you, and you're a needy mess. There is heat coursing through your body that is settling in between your legs. Your panties stick to you with your arousal, making you fidgety.

Reminds you of your clenched thighs whenever he's near. How you've abused your clit thinking about Coriolanus and his affectionate ways that are reserved solely for you.

"Coryo, please," you beg, cupping his face in your hands.

"Tell me what you want," Coriolanus pointedly says. He enjoys your innocence, but he wants to taint it so desperately. He needs to hear you talk dirty words in his ear.

"Touch me," you say, pressing your lips against his.

Coriolanus keeps his hands firmly on your waist, not giving into your pleas until you speak clearly, "Where do you want me to touch you, darling?"

"Please, touch my-my cunt," you stutter your words as your face burns again. You hide your face in his neck, brushing your lips delicately against it.

You're the complete opposite of him. Soft when he's rough. Innocent when he's wicked. Quiet when he's outspoken. What a perfect pair you make.

You gasp when he feels you through your wet panties. Coriolanus traces up and down your covered slit, teasing you. You're moaning into his neck, his foreign touch overwhelming you.

With a kiss to your temple, Coriolanus sits up between your spread thighs. He lifts your skirt, bunching it on your middle, preferring to leave it on your body. Your center is exposed to him, the wet patch on your matching panties clearly visible to his eyes.

You watch him as he bites his lips and rubs his hands up and down your thighs. He's preparing, reminding himself to keep his shit together. If it were up to him, he'd be fucking you silly.

"Let's take these off, yeah?" Coriolanus slips your ruined panties off your legs without waiting for your response. He kisses up your ankle to your knee as he settles between your thighs.

Your thigh is next as he nears your wet center. Your arousal glistens as it clings to your pussy lips. You look down at Coryo, propped up on your elbows.

"Darling, why don't you show me how you do it?" He asks, amused.

When you make no move, he grabs your hand and places it between your legs, encouraging you, "It's just you and I."

"Okay, Coryo," you whisper.

Biting your lips, you press your middle finger on your pink pearl. It's still safely hidden between your lips. Coriolanus observes how your cunt reacts to you circling your clit. Thick clear liquid drips from your opening, and he catches how you gather some of it to spread on your reddening clit.

The closer you get to your peak, the faster you go, your index finger joining your middle finger as you broaden your movements. Your head is thrown back with whines that join the 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of your wet cunt.

Coriolanus forces himself out of his trance of seeing you play with yourself from up close. He hadn't caught himself talking you through it, speaking lewd words to make you cum. Quick as a snake, he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Coryo, no. Why'd you make me stop?" You whine, lifting your head back up.

"I'm not done with you just yet," he responds sternly, releasing your wrist. Today you'll only cum around his fingers.

"Oh?"

Coriolanus dips his finger between the lips of your cunt, gathering your arousal in his finger. He's finally touching you like you asked. He taps on your clit that's peeking out of its hood, making you lightly flinch at the suddenly burst of pleasure.

"Have you ever fingered yourself?" He shamelessly asks before he attempts to slip a finger into you.

"No, it feels uncomfortable," you respond, figuring out where this is going.

Coriolanus holds back a smile. It's like he'd won the lottery and gained this beautiful, pure creature, untouched by anyone. You're his to taint to his image so you always remember his touch.

"Will you let me give it a try?" He pretends to ask. If you say no, he'll still try to convince you.

"Mhm," you hum, "Be gentle."

"Always," Coriolanus quips, locking eyes with you.

Coriolanus coats his middle finger with your arousal before he pushes his finger in. He circles your clit to get you to relax due to your constant tense state.

"I need you to relax for me," he speaks up, kissing the inside of her thigh. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you finally soften, "There we go, princess."

Coriolanus distracts you by swiping his fingers up and down your slit, so you don't know when he plans to slip it in. Finally, his middle finger dips into your opening, parting your walls. "So fucking tight," he groans when he finds your walls want to push him right out.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel his long finger breach your entrance. It's been years since you last tried. It doesn't hurt, to your surprise, but there is a particular feeling of your cunt accommodating his finger.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize, biting onto the back of your hand when he tentatively starts pushing his finger in and out.

"It's nothing to be sorry about. It's a good thing," he reassures you. His cock will feel so snug when he fucks you for the first time. He's hit a gold mine with you.

Your walls squeeze his finger like a vice, and he finds himself reminding you to try and relax. Carefully he pumps his finger in and out, light clicking noises coming from the wetness of his finger and your cunt.

Slowly your expression of discomfort morphs into one of pleasure, aided by his thumb on your clit. Curving his finger, Coriolanus searches for that spot inside of you. He knows he's got it when you moan out his name and fall back on the bed, grabbing an old teddy bear from your bed and biting into it. You're dripping on his hand.

It's so much he debates on adding another finger. He has to be careful, though. You're so tight, and he wishes to reserve the thin barrier of your innocence for his cock to push through. There's no doubt it'll tear with the size of his cock.

A token of that much value should be taken properly and not in a flurry of lust. Girls like you have been taught to take care of it until the right man comes along and Coriolanus is confident you feel that way toward him.

God, his cock is so fucking hard. He must be leaking pre. Desperately, Coriolanus rolls his hips on your mattress to relieve some of the tension. This is your doing, and you're not aware of how much you're torturing him.

Coriolanus tries to push his pointer finger into your cunt, but it proves difficult, especially when you flinch away and grab his wrist to stop him.

"Stop, it hurts, Coriolanus," you cry and try to wiggle away. One finger is enough for you. It's far more than you could ever do on your own.

But Coriolanus doesn't like being told what to do, and he hates it, especially when people he considers close call him by his full name.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll be gentle, but you have to let me if you ever want to take my cock," Coriolanus reminds you sweetly.

"Promise me," you say with a blush caused by his crude words. He's right. After today, you'll surely want him to go all the way with you, and neither will have the patience to go as slowly as today.

"I promise. Here, bend your legs. It should be better." Coriolanus arranges you in such a way were your pretty cunt is fully exposed to him, spreading to reveal your pink and tight opening. He kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit. "Remember to relax."

Coriolanus starts all over again, circling your pretty clit and fucking one finger into you. Once you close your eyes, losing yourself in the pleasure, he grabs hold of your thigh to keep you in place and pushes the tip of his second finger.

He ignores your complaints and rubs your clit more furiously, subduing your pain and replacing it with toe-curling pleasure. He thrusts shallowly until your cunt gives way for him to slip the two fingers entirely.

"Good girl, see, that wasn't so bad," he says in a slightly mocking tone you don't catch.

"Thank you, Coryo," you moan as your hand reaches to the one on your thigh.

Fuck, you sure know how to feed into his ego. He's heard that phrase so many times when he helps you with your homework. How will he keep his cock in his pants when you say that to him in the university library?

He fucks you steadily with his fingers adding a little force to make your tits jiggle. You hold onto the teddy bear, moaning softly. It's so easy to tell when you're about to cum like this. Your walls squeeze him so tightly he believes you'll push him out.

"You're going to cum, darling?" Coriolanus asks you, pulling you out of your bubble.

"Yes," you sob. This orgasm feels so different from your other ones. Like it comes from deep within. Maybe it's the penetration of Coriolanus's fingers, or perhaps it's just him doing all the work that does it for you.

"Let me hear you," he spits out as he curls his fingers more, hitting the spongy spot inside of you over and over again till the sound of your juices squelching echoes in the room.

"Coryo, Coryo, Coryo," you gasp, repeating his name with a cry and holding tightly onto his free hand.

He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his fingers and hand wet with your cum. You nudge him with your foot when it's too much, your words jumbled in your tongue.

You lay limp on the bed, body flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. Your hair sticks to your forehead, and your skirt is wrinkled and skewed on your midsection. You believe you look like an outright mess, but to Coriolanus, you couldn't look more perfect than in that moment.

As he removes his fingers from your fluttering hole, a string of cum stretches between his fingers and your cunt. Impulsively, he brings them up to his lips to taste you.

"Coryo, no, what?" You pipe up, embarrassed.

"Mmm," he hums in pleasure. He's on the verge is saying fuck it and fucking you tonight. You taste so divine he wants to get in between your pretty thighs to clean you all up, "Have you never tasted yourself?"

"No, I've never thought to," you murmur, scrunching your nose.

"You taste good," Coryo says, plunging his fingers into you again, making you whine from oversensitivity. "Try it."

Not giving you a choice, he presses his index and middle fingers to your lips. You part them slowly, dipping your head to take them into your mouth. The ring on Coriolanus's middle finger clicks against your teeth. You look at Coryo as you suck them, searching for his approval.

"Good, right?" He asks when he pulls his fingers back.

You shyly nod, surprised by your behavior. Your trust in Coryo is so immense that you don't question his actions. Anything he'd ask you would do.

Coriolanus smiles widely, cupping your face to kiss you. He's proud of you and of your progress today. He's happy to have someone to mold to his needs as well.

He's complacent at the moment, seeing you act shy, and he has no problem being delicate, either. Still, a part of him can't wait to have you in his grasp to properly bite and squeeze and spank to his desires. To have you teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure along with him.

"Coryo?" You call for him as he stands from the bed. You grab his hand, pulling him back down.

"Yes, darling? Is there something wrong?" Coriolanus questions, scanning your body for any discomfort.

"I want to…" You want to touch him. His hard-on is clearly visible on his red pants, and you would be a liar if you said you weren't curious as to how it looks.

"To what…" He wonders. You point down to his crotch, where you can make out the outline of his erection. "You want to suck my cock?"

"Yes, I want to make you feel good," you nod with your puppy dog eyes, and he has to will himself to say no. It's a difficult task when you're desperate to fall into his hands.

"My darling girl, don't worry about me. We'll get around to it another day. It's late," he softly chuckles, kissing your cheek. You've run out of time, soon your parents will be home. They probably don't want to find you being fucked by your boyfriend. "I promise you can help me next time, yeah?"

"Promise," you smile.

His eyes flicker to your lips to memorize them. He'll be sure to picture them tonight when he's fucking his fist. He thinks you'll be a good little cocksucker because of the way you eagerly sucked on his fingers earlier.

If not, he'll teach you.

Who knew he'd become a mentor of sorts once again.

*sips tea* thank you for reading! i really hope you liked it!

*starts choking on blood* damn it coriolanus, not again! before i go just know i'm working on ways to destress part 2! i will be back, this is not the end! *head thumps on the table*

#fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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milfgyuu · 2 years ago

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Puppy Love Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Fem!Reader Series: Mr. Right Next Door Tags: 3.2k, Neighbor!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor. Summary: So, your dog manages to score a boyfriend before you…unsurprising with your luck. However, your four-legged companion and her beau seem to conspire to bring a little puppy love into their human’s lives as well.

Doggie Daycare is a blessing.

Now that might sound dramatic, but any apartment dwelling dog owner will tell you how much of a life saver it is to drop your baby off to run, swim, play, and socialize the day away because otherwise you’d be stuck walking five miles every night just to burn off some of that pent up energy. Especially those with big, bouncy breeds. Those bad boys have bottled up zoomies ready and waiting to go.

Lizzie, your three year old Golden Retriever, was typically pretty laid back but you like to credit some of that to the fact that she’s been enrolled in daycare since she was finished with her puppy vaccines and it’s served to both tucker her out and teach her a few social manners. You also love that you don’t need to feel guilty when your work day stretches longer than usual into the afternoons.

The little bell rings as you push through the door to pick Lizzie up and the receptionist’s familiar face greets you right away.

“Oh, have I got exciting news for you!” Lea grins from behind the desk, “Lizzie’s got a boyfriend!”

You cup your cheeks and laugh, “Oh my gosh! She’s not old enough for boyfriends. She’s supposed to be making friends…not smooching.”

Lea laughs and comes out from behind the desk, joining you at the large window that peers into the indoor daycare room. It’s a particularly busy day so it takes a moment but Lea points into the far left corner and sure enough there is Lizzie laying right next to a pretty another pretty golden, fur red as can be, and they’re sharing one rope toy, gently tugging it back and forth between kissing each other’s faces.

“That’s Appa,” Lea bounces on her toes happily, “It’s his first day and he’s been glued to Lizzie’s side from the moment he saw her. They’re just so sweet to each other!”

Appa breaks away from their shared toy and licks Lizzie’s ear before she nudges the toy back over to him and he plays along, following her lead. Your heart clenches and you resist the urge to bust through the glass window like the coolaid man so you can love on them both. The cute aggression swirls in your veins.

Must. Squeeze. Dogs.

The daycare attendant notices you and Lea in the window, and waves before calling your baby over. Both Lizzie and Appa go to the door as if they’re leaving together, but of course, only Lizzie is pulled out for pick up and you watch with pouted lips as Appa sits patiently at the door, waiting for his new friend to return. He sits and waits all the way up until you reluctantly leave but only after Lea reassures you that Appa’s owner should be along shortly and would no doubt return tomorrow.

With Lizzie all clipped into her harness and seatbelt in the backseat, you start on the way home and talk to her the whole way there, per usual. She only ever responds with a head tilt or perked ears though. The occasional “whisper” you taught her was your answer to “Just what are you doing flirting with that devilishly handsome red boy?”

Over the next few weeks, it seemed Lizzie had a renewed purpose in getting you up, moving, and out the door so she could get to daycare bright and early each day. Every evening you would go to pick her up, you would find her and Appa playing or resting together and you became so endeared with the other pup.

It seemed as though the feeling was mutual because one day at pick up, Lea happily handed over a little baggie with a brand new toy in it. You pulled the little stuffed strawberry toy out and beamed. “That’s a gift from Appa and his dad,” Lea smirks and your brows raise, “His very handsome and seemingly very single dad…”

Seeing Lea every day during the week, you’ve formed a little friendship and share bits of life here and there around drop off and pick up times. She’s sort of like your hair dresser who knows just a little too much but you really like her - even if she’s playing a little matchmaking game on the side.

“Well,” you grin as Lizzie bounds around the corner and sidles up to your thigh, “It looks like Liz and I have some shopping to do.”

That started a bit of a trend and every so often you and Appa’s dad would send home new toys with each other though not once had you ever run into him which was a little disheartening. Not just because Lea mentioned him being handsome or anything….You just wanted a chance to meet your dog’s boyfriend’s dad.

Was that so odd?

On a brisk Saturday morning you decided to take Lizzie for a walk. Her pretty white coat was extra fluffy after her bath the night before and you thought she looked extra cute when the sun reflected off the pink gemstones in her collar. She was always great on leash and never stayed from your side, matching your pace so she was never too far behind or in front of you.

There were street vendors out, children playing in the open park, people riding bicycles but still, Lizzie stayed right next to you and you tried not to look too proud of how behaved she was when you witnessed several other dog owners having a less than pleasant walk with their overstimulated companion. Then her little ears perked up and she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

You glanced down and noticed she was staring across the park but nothing in particular stood out so you urged her to move along and she didn’t budge.

Furrowing your brows, you lean down a bit closer. “Liz, what’s wron-!”

The words tear from your lips when Lizzie suddenly breaks into a full out run and your body jerks into motion. You try your hardest to reel her back in but with her strength and momentum and you being caught off balance it is near-impossible to slow her down and she doesn’t respond to any of your frantic commands to stop.

You heave in a deep breath, panting between running and shouting, and Lizzie just keeps running. She drags you through the park, between picnic setups and too close to a painter under the tree. You’re lead straight between a makeshift soccer match and narrowly avoid a ball to the side of your head. Lizzie keeps running and your shoe catches on a rock but before you hit the ground you slam into another body.

The person throws their arms out and catches you before you hit the ground but suddenly your legs become bound to the strangers and you both hit the ground with a loud grunt. Thankfully, you both land on your side so at least crushing a stranger is not on your list of embarrassing things that just happened but you are indeed still bound together and there is a definitely going to be a knot on your forehead where you bumped noggins with your unfortunate savior.

Before you can even open your eyes, Lizzie is licking you in the face and you instinctively tuck your head in but that leaves you pressing your face into the strangers shoulder awkwardly. Next thing you know, they’re the one tensing and pressing closer to you and then you hear, “Appa! What’s the matter with you?!”

“Appa?” you repeat and Lizzie puts her wet nose against your ear, “Lizzie! Ugh, stop it!”

“Wait - Lizzie?”

The licking stops long enough to look into the face of the person you’re still laying on the ground with and the second you open your eyes, you shut them on instinct. No way are you in this predicament with someone this good looking. Legs tangled together by dog leashes, drool in your hair…ugh…the cute is absent from this meet cute.

“Appppaaa,” the man says almost teasingly, “This is your Lizzie isn’t it?”

Peeking your eyes open, the man is smiling back at you. “That must make you Lizzie’s mom, right?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, that’s me,” you smile a bit since he’s not stopped and it’s sort of contagious, “And you must be Appa’s dad?”

“Wooyoung,” he scrunches his nose cutely, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” you grin, all starry-eyed and stupid.

Appa barks once and you both snap your eyes up to your dogs patiently waiting at your feet to be let off leash. Wooyoung carefully helps you up, bracing your elbow and just behind your back so you can both sit up and once the pups are released you bump hands a few times trying to untangle the nylon’s constricting grip.

“I’ve really been hoping we would run into you but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Wooyoung laughs, “It’s a great story to tell the metaphorical grandpuppies though.”

You snort and Wooyoung explains. “Appa is neutered.”

“Lizzie is spayed too so no puppies,” you sigh, stretching out your legs as you and Wooyoung sit in the grass side by side, your dogs playing together a few feet away, “They do look awfully happy together though. It’s crazy how they recognized each other from so far away.”

Wooyoung leans back onto his hands. “Ahhhh,” he looks over at you and giggles, “Young love. Thank you for the toys by the way. I swear he makes it a point to play with all of them at least once a day.”

“Same to you! Lizzie accidentally put a hole in the lamb you bought her and wouldn’t leave my side until I sewed it back together for her. She plays extra gentle with it now.”

He smacks his hand over his chest and proclaims, “Ugh….my heart.”

Ugh. Yours too.

You spend another hour or so lazing in the park getting to know each other while Appa and Lizzie spend much needed quality time together. As if they weren’t together yesterday and won’t be again on Monday. It’s sweet though how well they get along and OK…maybe Wooyoung is really easy to get along with too.

He’s charming and funny, and just as Lea said, very handsome, but he’s down to earth and you find that you quite like his company. Lizzie likes him too and now that you’re able to love on Appa in person, not just through the daycare window, you adore him even more. You were happy to have found someone who was every bit as crazy about dogs as you were.

It was a touch awkward when you finally made your goodbyes only to realize you were both headed in the same direction. The dogs were happy as clams, walking side by side and Wooyoung very easily carried the conversation as you went. The fifteen minute walk went by much too quickly and then you’re stopping in front of your building.

“Well, this is us,” you say, not mindful enough to leave the disappointment out of your tone.

Wooyoung looks up at the building and laughs. Full belly laughs and you’re lost until he says, “No way is this happening…We live here too.”

Your brows fly into your hair line and your jaw drops……you’re….neighbors?

“We’re on the east end of the first floor, where are you?”

Wooyoung points, “West end of the third floor,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “This is really wild!”

“I am just as shocked as you! How have we never run into one another until now?”

“I think there is something to be said for the cosmic timing of things.”

The way he looks at you makes your cheeks pinch and Lizzie nudges your leg, pushing her head just beneath your hand. “Well, um, maybe we will see more of each other now that we’ve met…I’m sure that would make the pups happy.”

Wooyoung grins, almost in a bashful sort of fashion. “It would make me happy too.”

The urge to openly squeal is absolutely appalling and you settle for what you hope is a flirty sort of smile. “Me too,” you chuckle, “I’ll uhh, catch you later, Wooyoung.”

He watches a little too closely as you turn away, still grinning like a fool. “Definitely.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The universe did indeed plan for you to bump into Wooyoung nearly every day since that initial meeting. Oddly enough you now saw him in the mail room, at daycare drop off or pick up, at the market, in the parking lot. It was really unintentional but you looked forward to those chance meetings and it very quickly became the highlight of your day.

At some point you began picking Appa up from daycare when Wooyoung had long days and he volunteered to drop them off whenever you needed to get into work early and many weekends you took them to the park or the beach and one day - Wooyoung finally got up the courage to ask you out.

You were so nervous knocking on his apartment door.

Rubbing your hands anxiously on the side of your dress you look down at Lizzie’s squishy little face and you’re suddenly reminded how peculiar it was to bring your dog along to your first date but you supposed it was hers and Appa’s hundredth. You were also really relieved to have her at your side - which she immediately ditched when Wooyoung opened the door. She padded right past him and Appa greeted her with a kiss before they wandered off toward the toy basket.

“You look really great,” Wooyoung says softly and then he’s clearing his throat and stepping aside, “Sorry, I should definitely invite you in. Still working on my training.”

You chuckle at his joke, a clear cover up for how nervous he was to have you in his home for the first time. It was sort of nice to know you weren’t the only one.

“It smells amazing in here,” you comment, the aroma from the small dining room wafting into the entry, “Did you cook? I thought we were just doing takeout?”

Wooyoung closes the door and shows you where to kick off your shoes. “I am actually the worst cook…ever…but I am really good at making things look presentable.”

The table is set for two with piping hot food and it seriously looks like you’re about to sit down at a restaurant. Then Wooyoung points to the empty takeout bag on the counter and grins, “You said you like pasta, right?”

A ball squeaks from the living room and you laugh, taking a seat at the table. “Yeah,” you smile at him, “I love pasta. Cristo’s is my favorite actually.”

Wooyoung winks as he sits. “I know. I also listen really well.”

Flattered you pick up your fork to dig in and you’re not disappointed, a bit embarrassed perhaps because Wooyoung is still watching, waiting for your opinion and you give him a thumbs up, signaling he’s done good and also please eat so you’re not the only one. Conversation flows easily throughout the meal, as it usually does and even as you argue with him about helping to clean the dishes, he bickers back and makes you laugh.

It isn’t until you’re both sat on the couch that Wooyoung actually looks nervous again. You both settle on a movie you’ve seen before but it’s good enough to watch again…and not so new that if you end up spending more time staring at each other while the other isn’t looking that you won’t really miss much.

Wooyoung has so many couch pillows that it’s easy enough to make yourself comfortable without worrying if you’re too close or too far apart, or worse, you’re left sitting so awkwardly that it’s noticeable.

Another thing you really like about Wooyoung is that he makes really good tea and you gratefully sip on it to calm your nerves. The smell alone is enough to soothe you but when you look over to find Appa and Lizzie sleeping together, her head laid over his shoulders, your drink is the last thing on your mind.

“They are really cute,” Wooyoung says quietly, “They make dating look too easy.”

You chuckle at that, looking over to find Wooyoung looking back at you. “I’m so glad you said yes, by the way,” he admits, “I was sort of terrified to ask you out. Not because I didn’t think we would have a good time because I think we get along really well and have a lot in common, but…I uh…kind of really like you. Like…a lot.”

Wooyoung’s ears turn bright red and he makes a move to turn away but you reach a hand out to grab his, lacing your fingers together and resting it on the pillow between you. “I really like you too,” you tell him, butterflies loose in your belly, “Honestly, if you didn’t ask me out soon I probably would have asked you.”

His eyes pop open wide and he laughs. “Maybe I should have waited a few more days,” he teases, “You can always ask me out on a second date…promise to say yes.”

“Wooyoung,” you pause to hold in a laugh, “Would you want to go out with me again?”

He feigns disinterest. “My schedule is a little jam packed coming up but I-”

He’s interrupted by Appa’s loud disapproving bark and Wooyoung grins. “He means to say, that I would love to go out with you. Maybe I can actually take you out somewhere next time.”

That giddy feeling settles into your bones and it’s far from thought to pretend like you’re not ecstatic at the prospect of dating. Wooyoung is quite the same, grinning like a fool and excitedly rambling on about date ideas and such.

It’s easy for time to slip away and nearing almost midnight, you’re still slow to pull yourself from his couch. Wooyoung doesn’t even look tired aside from the one little yawn he just couldn’t hide. He’s still so bright and talkative. You’re already beginning to miss him as he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you smile, Lizzie’s leash occupying your nervous hands, “I’m sorry I stayed over so late.”

Wooyoung bats away your apology. “I probably would have kept talking your ear off until the sun came up anyhow.”

“I like that about you.” You’re bashful and he bites his tongue beneath a grin.

There is an energy in the air that is so tempting to give into but really, this is your first official date and surely you shouldn’t already be thinking about kissing him goodnight but his lips are so pretty and he keeps glancing down at yours and -

“Well, I should get going…long walk and all.” What a terrible joke. You’ve got to get out of here before you embarrass yourself further.

You reach for the door handle but one of the dogs bumps the back of your legs and you tip forward into Wooyoung who nearly falls off balance if it weren’t for the other dog behind him. How cleverly they corral their humans into each other’s embrace once more.

“Our dogs have an agenda,” Wooyoung laughs, his hands finding a little more confidence, arms winding a bit tighter around your waist. “I think they want me to kiss you…Any thoughts on that?”

“Um, yeah,” swallowing your nervous laughter, you smile down at the pups and then back up to him. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

Series M.List | ATEEZ M.List | Main M.List

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms WITHOUT PERMISSION! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2021. ©️

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nyaboshi · 5 months ago

Note

Please yap about Achlys, I want to know everything

OIB;OWJ BITING YOU /affec I WOULD LOVE TO TALK ABOUT MY BABY BOY

Everything is below the cut, because this is about to get long. Teehee~

I saw this ask when you originally sent it, anon, but the reason it's taken me so long to respond is because I was rushing to get this done:

A brand new, shiny reference for my boy! Wings colored and everything, finally!! I wanted to reveal this while simultaneously answering your ask, causeee I have a lot to say about this goober.

First off, I'll start with backstory. Achlys was a character I created for a roleplay with a friend of mine, and he hasssss... spiraled. I love him so much, he's my precious little bean.

He was created in a lab by a scientist named Xander, who was obsessed with creating human hybrids and monstrosities in attempts to create the perfect soldiers. All of his attempts in the past had proven to be too unstable and unfit for actual battle. At some point, Xander came to the conclusion that it was because he was adding DNA to human beings who had already existed. His new priority became to gather the DNA of an individual and use it to make a clone that he would then mix with the DNA. Achlys was the first product of this experimental process (at least the first to not die immediately after being "born"). Xander started with something as simple as the DNA of a butterfly, just to see what it would be like if such an experiment succeeded. What Xander did not expect was to become emotionally attached to the kid. He raised him for a few years, and he eventually because like a father to him. After an altercation with his nefarious works that nearly cost him Achlys' life, he gave up his dangerous and illegal practices, faked his death so the authorities wouldn't be after him, and started a new life with his child.

Achlys grew up within a morally gray household. Although Xander taught him morals to prevent him from getting on the bad side of the law – both because he didn't want Achlys to grow up to be like him (huzzah, character development!) and because trouble with the law meant Achlys being discovered and likely hauled away/killed – that didn't stop Achlys from becoming a bit of a troublemaker. He's loud-mouthed, manipulative at times, and generally kinda self-centered. Achlys definitely isn't afraid to tell minor fibs to get what he wants, and he can and will pull out the good ol' puppy dog eyes on his poor old papá to get him to cave. Xander is somewhat immune to it by the time Achlys hits his mid teenage years. But not completely. Despite his iffy morals though, he's generally a good kid. All of his stuff adds up to petty actions only. If he ever actually got pushed to do anything truly evil, he'd just kinda stand there and likely have a panic attack. Ironically enough, Achlys is easily manipulated. All it takes is flattery and the promise of something sweet and he'll be eating out of the palm of your hand. That's only for first time interactions, though. If you take that opportunity and use it to wrong him, hoof... Once Achlys trust is broken, it is ridiculously hard to earn it back. ANOTHER IMPORTANT DETAIL!!! He is such a dummy. Like. My gosh, somebody help this child... He can't do basic math for the life of him, and not from lack of Xander trying to teach him. Achlys just refuses to pay attention to anything that doesn't interest him unless it's what he deems as super important. And... schooling was not one of those things. He did enough to get by and then it went right out his other ear. Bro can count, but like– If you asked him what 12 x 9 was he'd just sit there and stare at you blankly. The only subject in school he took an interest to was science – it made him feel connected with Xander, cause that's his father's passion. Does he understand a lick of what's being said to him? Not really, no. But does he actually try to listen and learn for once so he can assist him in the "completely safe" experiments he conducts? Of course! On that note, Achlys thinks the world of Xander. His father's opinion is really the only one he cares about. Achlys can get berated by a horde of angry Karens and not give two shakes of a rat's tail; however, the moment Xander does so much as raises his voice at him, he shrinks and turns into a puddle of tears. Never in front of Xander. He holds his ground until he's alone in his room. Then he curls up underneath his covers (or under the bed, depends on how badly he was lectured) and wallows. There's no greater achievement to Achlys than receiving Xander's praise and approval. Which he does receive often, because Xander adores his little sharp-toothed shark child.

ANYWHOZZLE This got real long. XD

I have much more to say in terms of character arcs I have planned out in my noggin for him as well as anatomy headcanons and thoughts I chew on like fruit gummies. But I will leave it at that for now

Once again, thank you so much for the ask, anon! I hope you continue to love him as much as I do (if such a feat is possible, I'm tear him to shreds regularly like a dog /affec)

#achlys #butterfly #butterfly oc #butterfly wings #oc #original character #oc drawing #reference #oc backstory #oc personality #rambles #yap yap yapping #nyappity yap #answering asks #nyaboshi #christian artist

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bjfinn · 10 months ago

Text

MOMMY DEAREST

"I Feel Pretty" by Leonard Bernstein & Stephen Sondheim, from the musical "West Side Story" (1956), with alterations by me

"So ... my little boy has a new family now, eh? How sweet."

Beej was unable to move. He tried to speak, to scream, to warn the others, but couldn't manage more than a strangled squeak.

"Now, now!" Juno said, blowing smoke from the second mouth in her throat. She shuffled to his bedside. "You don't really want to wake everyone else up, do you? Your precious new family? You know if that happens, I'll have to kill all of them -- and I'll make you watch." She pointed a long, bony finger at him, the wickedly sharp talon glinting in the moonlight coming in through the attic window. "No, you don't want that, do you?"

He was trembling now -- in fear, yes, but also rage. He opened his mouth to speak, and this time he managed a whispered, "How --?"

"How did I get through processing so quickly?" she asked. "I used to run the department -- don't you think I picked up a few tricks during that time? Your father says hello, by the way.

"Now, where was I? Ohhh, yes -- now I remember!" In the blink of an eye, Juno had leapt up and was now sitting on Beej's chest. He struggled for breath, gasping for air. "You're mine! You always will be! I made you, and I can destroy you -- don't ever forget that!"

She got off of him, and he gasped, finally able to breathe again.

Juno leaned over him. "Now give Mama a kiss goodnight." She pressed her ice-cold lips against his forehead -- they burned like a brand, and he gasped again. "Sweet dreams, kiddo."

And with that, she was gone.

Beej lay awake for the rest of the night in a cold sweat, his mother's words ringing in his ears, tears running down his cheeks.

*****

"What shall we do today?" Delia asked.

Beej shrugged listlessly. "I don't know --"

Delia knew that most people thought she was a ditz, a flake for believing in all the New Age stuff, and maybe she was, but the fact was that she was actually sometimes able to read people's auras -- and Beej's aura was turbulent, a swirling cloud of purple and red with wisps of black. Then again, so was his hair, so it wasn't too hard to figure out that something was bothering the demon.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Beej tried to hide it, but she could see the anguish in his eyes.

"Things won't get better if you don't talk about it, Beej."

His eyes welled with tears. "It's my mom -- my ... other mom. She... she came to see me last night."

"You had a dream about her?"

"No!" he shouted. Then, more quietly, "No. It wasn't a dream -- I was awake. She came into my room, and -- and she said that I was hers, and she threatened to kill all of you."

"I thought she was going to be in ... what did you call it -- processing? -- for the next few centuries," Delia said. "How did she get out so quickly?"

"She said she knows 'a few tricks'," Beej replied.

"And you're sure it wasn't a dream?"

Beej shook his head. "It wasn't a dream -- I was wide awake, hadn't fallen asleep yet." He looked at her. "You believe me, right?"

Delia gathered him in her arms. "Of course I do, Beej," she told him. "Of course I believe you."

*****

Beej stayed close to Delia for the rest of the day, following her around like a puppy. She found it a bit unnerving, but she couldn't blame him -- Juno, ultimately, was the reason he was the way he was.

So she let him help as she went about her day.

"Wanna help me bake bread?" Barbara had recently taught her, and she was eager to pass on her new knowledge.

"Sure, okay!"

She showed him how to measure out the ingredients, and let him mix them together in the bowl -- he took extra care not to spill anything. Then she sprinkled flour over the counter and tipped out the dough. Beej reached out a hand and she gently slapped it away.

"I just want a taste!" he protested, rubbing his hand.

"It's not ready yet," she said. "First we have to knead it --"

"I need it, all right? Now let me taste it!"

Delia laughed -- Beej didn't know what the joke was, but her laughter always made him feel good.

"This is how you knead dough," she said, putting the heels of both hands on the mass and pushing forward. She gave it a quarter-turn and repeated the motion. "Now you try."

Beej did as he was shown. Delia took a moment to wipe out the bowl and rub the interior with oil.

"That's great!" Delia said. "Do it a few more times, and then we'll put it back in the bowl to rest and proof."

"You can see me doing it -- what more proof do you need?" he grumbled.

Delia snorted another laugh. "Okay, that's good. Now, back in the bowl so it can rise." She covered the bowl with plastic wrap.

"I can make it rise," Beej said, raising his hands. The bowl of dough trembled and lifted off the table.

Delia grabbed it before it got too high to reach, and set it back down. "It needs to double in size," she explained.

"How long does that take?"

"A couple of hours," she told him, wiping the counter.

"A couple of hours??? " Beej blew out his cheeks in a loud sigh. "Then what?"

"Then we punch it down, put it in some loaf pans, let it rise again and bake it."

His eyes crossed comically. "Seems like a lot of work for bread."

"In the meantime, we can do something else." She thought for a moment. "How about a session? We can do some art therapy, if you want."

Beej nodded. "I like art therapy."

*****

"Now do we get to eat it?" Beej asked when the loaves came out of the oven.

Delia shook her head. "Not yet -- they need to cool down first."

"Ah, come on! You're killing me here!" He breathed in the aroma. "They smell so good." He reached out, but Delia slapped his hand away. He frowned, but said, "Okay, okay -- I'll wait. But it better be worth it!"

*****

That night, Juno came again.

"Are you ready to come back home?" she asked.

"I am home," Beej said, his voice nearly a whisper. "This is my home, and these people are my family -- not you!"

Juno sneered. "I'm the only family you'll ever have, boy. You might've killed me, but I'm back now -- and you're never gonna be rid of me!"

"I killed you once," Beej said. "I can do it again."

Juno nodded thoughtfully. "You could," she acknowledged, "but what would be the point? We both know there's only one way to get rid of me for good -- and if you do it, you'll die, too."

"Get outta here, you ... you dried up old hag!" Beej croaked.

Juno laughed, a cackle that would've chilled the wickedest witch to the bone.

"I am a dried up old hag -- I'm the original dried up old hag!" She said. "But make no mistake -- I'm stronger than you, and I always will be."

*****

"She came again last night," Beej said. "She's not gonna leave me alone."

"Is there anything that'll put a stop to her?" Delia asked. "Anything at all?"

Beej nodded morosely. "There's one thing," he said. "A spell in The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. It's called 'Hands Vermilion'. It's a summoning spell, but only if you know what part to leave out -- if you say the whole thing, it's an exorcism spell. Death for the undead."

"So what's the problem?"

"I need to be there to keep her from killing whoever tries to use the spell," he told her, "but if I'm there ..."

"You die, too," Delia finished.

Beej nodded again. He was almost in tears.

"If we can figure out a way to do it, would you be willing?"

"Yeah, sure!" the demon replied. "I want her outta my life for good! But there's just no way -- I've tried to think of how we can use it on her without me dying, too, but ..." He shrugged. "If I have to sacrifice myself to save you guys --"

Delia held up her hand. "No," she said firmly. "You're not sacrificing yourself."

"But --"

"Let me try to come up with a way." She levelled her gaze at him. "I'm not as dumb as people think I am, you know -- I'll think of something." She smiled at him. "In the meantime, how about I show you how to bake a cake?"

*****

"Think, Dee -- how can you use a spell against one demon without hurting the other?" Delia said aloud. She was sitting in the lotus position on a yoga mat in her studio, trying her best to centre herself and find a solution to what was beginning to seem like an unsolvable riddle.

"There's got to be a way!" she insisted. "Positive thinking -- I will figure this out, for Beej's sake." She straightened her posture, rolled her shoulders and then her neck. "Ommmmmm ..."

Hey, Delia," Lydia said, popping her head in the open doorway. "Umm ... I heard what you were saying."

"Oh, Lydia -- it's Beej," Delia told her. "Juno is back, and she's been --"

Lydia nodded. "I know," she said. "He told me. And he told me about 'Hands Vermilion', too -- that we could use it to get rid of her once and for all."

"The only problem is that Beej has to be there to protect whoever is using the spell, but --"

"But if he's there, it kills him, too."

"Exactly," Delia said despondently.

Lydia tilted her head. "I might have an answer," she said.

"Tell me, please! I'm desperate! "

"It's a spell, so it's spoken, right?"

"Riiight ..."

"So it works by being heard."

"Okaaay ..."

"So all you have to do is find a way to stop Beej from hearing the spell."

"Because if he can't hear it, it can't affect him!" Delia sprung to her feet and hugged Lydia. "Of course! Lydia, you're a genius! "

*****

"What's this?" Beej asked, looking at the small plastic egg Delia had given him.

"Open it," she said. He did, and pulled out a wad of pinkish gray stuff. "It's called Silly Putty," she explained. "We can use it to protect you from the spell."

Beej looked at it dubiously. He sniffed it, gave it a lick. "How?"

"You take a bit of it and stuff it in your ears," she told him. "You won't be able to hear the spell, so it won't affect you."

Beej's eyebrows shot up. "You want me to put this in my ears??? " He sniffed at the putty again. "You're kidding, right?"

"BJ, you put waaay more disgusting stuff in your ears -- and every other orifice -- all the time!" She sighed. "Let's just try it, okay? See if it works."

He pulled off a piece of the putty and stuffed in in one ear, then did the same with the other.

"Can you hear me?" Delia asked.

"What?"

Delia nodded, and began to sing:

I feel pretty

Oh so pretty

I feel pretty, and witty, and bright

And I pity

Any demon who visits tonight!

Beej grinned. "I can't hear anything!" he shouted gleefully. He threw his arms around Delia and spun her around. "This is great -- I'll finally be rid of her forever!"

*****

That evening, Delia headed upstairs to the attic. Beej was alone -- as agreed, Adam and Barbara had gone elsewhere.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Beej swallowed hard. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied. "If this stuff doesn't work --"

"It will," she reassured him.

"But if it doesn't -- promise me ... promise me that you won't forget me?"

"I could never forget you -- you're my son, Beej." She wiped away his tears. "No one in this house could ever forget you." She kissed his cheek. "But this will work -- just be brave, and Juno will be gone forever, and nobody'll ever try to take you from us again."

Beej nodded and managed a smile.

"Ready?" Delia asked again.

"Ready." He got into bed, and Delia turned off the light, plunging the attic into darkness.

"How long does it usually take for --"

Delia's question was interrupted by the sound of Juno's arrival -- the thump-slide, thump-slide of her prosthetic leg dragging across the floorboards.

Delia flattened herself against the wall, praying that the she-demon wouldn't notice her.

Juno approached Beej's bed. "I'm baaaack! " she sang. "Wakey wakey!"

Beej leapt out of the bed. "I'm already awake," he told her.

She startled. "You trying to give me a heart attack? You should be ashamed of yourself, scaring your poor old mother like that."

"Your heart is in a jar in Bavaria, isn't it?"

"That's not the point." The lit end of her cigarette traced red circles in the darkness as she waved her hand dismissively, and then glowed brightly she took a long drag on it. Smoke blew from her throat as she exhaled.

Delia wrinkled her nose at the smell of the cigarette -- God, that stinks, she thought. It's worse than a cheap cigar.

"Come here and give Mama a hug," Juno said.

Beej didn't move -- he just glared at her, and Delia saw that his eyes were glowing red.

"What's the matter? Aren't you happy to see your mother?"

"You're not my mom," Beej told her.

"Don't be silly -- who else would I be?"

"YOU'RE NOT MY MOM!!!" Beej roared. "You're just the ... the fucking whore that got pregnant with me 'cause she couldn't keep her fucking panties on! No better than a ... a dog in heat! You don't get to call yourself my mother!"

The she-demon's demeanor shifted immediately. "Now you listen to me, you ungrateful little shit! I lost everything because of you! I can't shapeshift any more -- because I had you! I'm stuck looking like this, and it's all your fault!" Juno snarled. "Don't you ever talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you any fuckin' way I want!" he told her. "And yeah -- I am ungrateful! Why should I be grateful? You never gave a damn about me!"

Juno's eyes blazed with fury for a moment, but then her expression softened -- once more the loving mother. She smiled at Beej. "I always gave a damn -- but growing up in the Netherworld is hard on a young boy. I had to make sure you were tough enough to survive. I had to be cruel to be kind. But I do love you, son."

Beej swallowed the lump that had come into his throat. "Really?" His face screwed up as he fought the tears that were threatening to fall. "You ... you really love me?"

Juno nodded. "I really do," she told him. "These people aren't your family -- not really. To them you're just a pet, a guard dog -- eventually they'll get tired of having you around and they'll kick you to the curb. Trust me on this -- I know breathers."

She reached up to touch his cheek, but stopped when she saw the look of contempt in his eyes. "Beej? What's wrong, son?"

"You went too hard on the sell," he replied. "You know breathers? How the fuck would you know breathers? You've never been one, you've never spent any time with them. 'I know breathers' -- what a laugh! The only reason you're trying to get me back is 'cause you can't stand the thought of someone else taking what you threw away!"

"They don't have the right to take what's mine!"

"I'M NOT YOURS! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KICKED ME TO THE CURB! NOT THEM! THEY TOOK ME IN WHEN I HAD NO PLACE ELSE TO GO! THEY'RE TEACHING ME HOW TO FIT IN IN THEIR WORLD!"

"They're domesticating you! They're trying to neuter you, de-fang and de-claw you, and then they'll have you doing tricks like a circus monkey! Can't you see that?"

"I DON'T CARE!" Beej roared. "IF THAT'S THE PRICE OF BEING PART OF A REAL FAMILY --"

Delia interrupted him. "No, we're not!" she told Juno. "No one wants to change Beej! He doesn't have to stop being who he is to fit in! We love him just the way he is!"

"Speak when you're spoken to, bitch," Juno hissed, "or you'll get your tongue ripped out!"

At that, a tentacle shot out from Beej's back and coiled itself around Juno's neck, crushing her windpipe. "Don't threaten my family," he said in a low voice as she clawed at the appendage, raking it with her talons. Another tentacle appeared and reached into Juno's mouth, wrapping around the base of her tongue. She gagged, her eyes wide. Suddenly there was a loud, wet, ripping sound. The tentacle retracted, Juno's tongue still in its grip.

Blood poured from the demon bitch's mouth. Beej hauled her close, more tentacles reaching out to immobilise her. "You think I'm weak," he said. "You think I'm still that pathetic little kid that everyone used to bully and kick around. Well, you know what? Your plan to toughen me up worked!"

He took the plastic Silly Putty egg from his jacket pocket, opened it and stuffed some into his ears. He looked at Delia and nodded, and she screamed as loud as she could -- one final test. Beej grinned and gave her a thumb's-up.

"Now you're finally gonna get what's coming to you -- death for the undead!"

He snapped his fingers, and Delia opened the book she was holding -- The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. Turning to page 42, she read the invocation in a loud voice:

Hands vermilion,

Start of five.

Bright cotillion,

Ravens dive.

Nightshade's promise,

Spirits strive.

To the living, let now the dead

Come alive!

As sudden thunder pierces night,

As magic wonder mad affright,

Rise asunder, man's delight.

Our ghost, our corpse,

And we rise to be.

As flies the lizard

Serpent fell,

As goblin gizzard at the spell,

The buried, dead and slain

Rise again!

Juno, still in the grip of Beej's tentacles, began to shake convulsively. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Flames began to lick at her feet, quickly travelling up her body.

Beej released her, and stepped back quickly -- he didn't want to be caught in the conflagration. He watched, grinning, as his mother was consumed by the fire, his arms around Delia, who had clapped her hands to her ears in an attempt to shut out the sound -- Juno might no longer have had a tongue, but she was still screaming.

The she-demon's beehive hairdo caught fire, burning fiercely, her face melting as though she was made of wax. Delia's stomach did a somersault, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the horrific sight.

"Bye, Mom!" Beej said, waving happily.

Juno's head exploded then, and Beej shielded Delia from the shards of skull and wet gobs of brain matter that flew in all directions.

It was finally over.

Beej released Delia, and she said, "Is she gone for good?"

He shook his head, confused. "What? I can't hear you."

Delia grinned. "Take the Silly Putty out of your ears, goofball!"

"I still can't hear you," Beej told her.

Delia pointed at her own ears.

Beej looked even more confused for a moment, and then it dawned on him. He unplugged his ears.

"I couldn't hear you," he said. "I had Silly Putty in my ears."

Delia hugged him. "Is she gone for good?" she asked again.

Beej nodded. "Death for the undead -- there's no coming back from that. She's been eradicated, annihilated, wiped out of existence. Not even a grave for me to spit on." He sighed. "Too bad -- I really wanted to spit on her grave."

He hugged her again, tightly. "You did great, Mom! I'm so proud of you!"

"I -- can't -- breathe!" she gasped.

"What? Oh, sorry!" Beej said, releasing her.

She punched playfully him in the arm.

"Ow!" he said, grinning as he rubbed his bicep. "That hurt!"

"Come on, you big wimp," Delia said, "let's get back downstairs -- we can have some chocolate cake and ice cream to celebrate."

#beetlejuice #bjtmtmtm #bjtm #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfic #fanfiction #juno #delia deetz #mommy dearest #bjfinn writing

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allegra-writes · 1 year ago

Text

"And They Were Roommates" Part I

Armand x Daniel Molloy

All Human, Roommates AU

General Audiences

Warnings: None. Crack, canon Devil's minion shenanigans. Armand being mischievous and slutty. Simp!Daniel. Female character under outstanding amounts of stress. Graphic depiction of early 2000s technology. Graphic description of internship work. This fic has mentions of Britney Spears' motion picture "Crossroads" so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't click on this fic. I am not responsable for your media consumption.

Alice suspects something more than friendship is going on between her boyfriend and his weirdly hot roommate.

MY MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: The roomie

Alice didn’t know what she had expected when Daniel invited her to hang out at his place instead of going out that evening, but it certainly wasn’t this. Although, admittedly in hindsight, she guessed she should have seen something like it coming. After all, she had known something was going on between her boyfriend and his roommate from the moment she met him. That... had been an experience on its own, one that nearly gave her a freaking heart attack when Armand had burst into her boyfriend’s room –while she was there, sleeping with him- at two in the morning, demanding he taught him how to Skype to Paris with his brand new Tablet PC. And I mean, in her boyfriend’s defense, he had told him to fuck off, and rather energetically, but all the brunette boy had to do was make some puppy dog eyes at him, and Daniel caved in almost instantly.

“Fine!” He had yelled, “But you gonna have to pay me”

“But of course” Armand had agreed, tossing a stack of bills -all of them Benjamins- onto Daniel’s bed, and then he had tossed himself on it. Right between Daniel and her. And don’t get her wrong, she could see the lure of easy money as much as any other undergraduate drowning in student loans, but she could see the furtive little glances Daniel threw at his roommate, as he giggled, delighted, speaking French like a native, and showing Daniel the Eiffel Tower when the person he was talking to finally gave in and show it to them. Money had nothing to do with that.

Daniel himself seemed completely oblivious, every time Alice tried to bring the subject up, she was rebuffed by her boyfriend insisting it was just typical Armand being Armand, telling her about how he hadn't really socialized in his childhood and how he wasn't neurotypical and how she was just misinterpreting his behavior. Armand simply didn't know how normal people acted, but had a good heart. Like that time Daniel wasn’t really making enough with his freelancing to eat, so he had once crashed his lunch at campus with a platoon of delivery guys from like twenty different places because he "didn't know what Daniel liked so he had ordered everything". Alice had to blink several times, breathe, and count to a hundred so she wouldn't just blurt out that friends didn't act that way and Armand was trying to impress him, for fucks sake!

Now, there she was, sitting alone on the couch as her boyfriend finished hugging his roomie hello, after he had promised her they would be having the apartment all for themselves for the night because Armand was supposed to be working late. So much for that, she thought as Armand flopped on the old ratty couch right beside her, of course, so Daniel would have no choice but to sit on the other side of the couch.

“What are we watching?” He asked, casually grabbing the remote that had just fallen from Alice’s hands.

“I’m sorry, weren’t you supposed to be at work?” Daniel threw her a dirty look, no doubt admonishing her for her rudeness, but Armand, who really did seem incognizant of most social cues, simply shrugged.

“I did go in, and I did organize all the case files and paperwork they asked me to. I even took a look at the case the associates were working on and made some folders with copies of all the other lawsuits that were similar to it. It took me about two hours, I really don’t understand how the paralegals there are so inefficient…”

“Wait, so you went in, did your paperwork, did some extra paperwork you weren’t even required to do, and just… went home?” Alice was stunned, “You do know they expect interns to stick around, get them food, make coffee, and stuff, right?”

Armand frowned,

“That’s not on my job description”

“It’s implicit” She tried to explain, “Intern is just another word for busboy”

Armand simply stared, face completely blank and for the first time ever, Alice felt sorry for the boy, who was undoubtedly about to lose his internship at one of the most important legal firms in the city.

“Oh, who cares? He should quit that job anyway!” Daniel exclaimed, wrapping a protective arm around his roommate’s shoulder, “They’re just a bunch of pretentious, soulless, money-hungry bastards. You don’t wanna be like them anyway, boss”

“If I quit” Armand seemed to be actually considering it, “I would get more free time to spend with you…”

Daniel barked a laugh,

“See, it’s a win-win situation!” Their eyes met, and suddenly, Alice had a feeling as if she was intruding on an intimate moment. Luckily, her boyfriend cleared his throat and broke it with a “Now, go change out of your monkey suit. Your spreading fugly lawyers' germs all over the couch”

Armand sighed but did get up, dragging his feet all the way to his room, where he didn’t even bother to close the door before starting to shed his clothes. Alice definitely did not notice her boyfriend’s eyes lingering on the sight for too long. She did not.

“Baby? Babe? Daniel!” She did not have to yell to get her boyfriend’s attention again either, “Do you want to go to my place? Amy’s not home, she’s spending the night with Becka…”

“Um, what? Not really, why?” Daniel sputtered, unthinkingly. But before Alice even had the time to explain, Daniel’s phone started to ring with the most un-Daniel song ever.

I want you to want me… I need you to need me… I’d love you to lo-

“Sorry, gotta take this” He excused himself before flipping his phone open, “Hi, boss! How are you? Oh? Food it’s on its way here already? You ordered Thai? For the three of us? Dude, you are awesome, did I ever tell you that? Well, I’m telling you again: Boss… You’re awesome! Yeah, see you in a minute!”

He hung up, turning to Alice with a big, goofy smile on his face.

“That was Armand” He explained, unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I figured”

“He got us food!”

“So I’ve heard” She smiled, and if it was more sardonically than anything else, well, her boyfriend didn’t seem to notice or care. “I just have a little question, what was that… ringtone?”

Daniel chuckled, green eyes bright with mirth,

“Oh, Armand thought it would be funny to change all my ringtones”

“So he was the one to set it up?”

“Yeah, you should hear what he put on as yours!” One look at his girlfriend’s unamused expression and his laughter died in his throat, “Then again, maybe not… Anyway, I messed with all his ringtones too in revenge”

“Really?” Alice asked with genuine curiosity, “What did you do?”

“Well, you know how I love Muse, right?”

“Yeah”

“And how much Armand hates it” She didn’t, not really, but she did guess her boyfriend knew the guy better. So, she nodded. “So I changed all his ringtones for Muse songs”

“Ok” She inquired, carefully, already dreading to hear the answer, “And which one did you set up as yours?”

Please don’t let it be “Unintended”, please don’t let it be “Unintended”...

“Um, I was running out of songs, so I chose “Endlessly””

That was so much worse. Exasperated, Alice threw her hands up in the air, ready to get up when Armand walked into the room again, wearing the world’s sluttiest man pajamas she had ever seen: A pair of silk black pants hung dangerously low off Armand’s hips, exposing the top of the V-shaped line of his pelvis, while a too short black t-shirt with an extremely low cut v-neckline gave a tantalizing view of his tanned chest and rather impressive pectorals. It was only when her eyes got to his face and she saw the little smirk he was sporting, that Alice realized her mouth was hanging open. But Alice wasn’t the only one staring, next to her, Daniel was positively gawking, and Alice understood the reason for Armand’s smug expression: He knew. There was nothing innocent or clueless about that boy, he was purposely, deliberately, trying to steal her boyfriend.

And he was succeeding.

She watched in shock as Armand bend in half in front of the TV, giving both Daniel and her a perfect view of his perfect butt as he put on a disc on the DVD player, too stunned to even understand what the boy was doing until the already painfully familiar notes to the opening of “Blade Runner” started to play. She heard her boyfriend groan, but as she turned to look at him, there was a fond, if a little exasperated smile on his face. Alice, however, harbored no fondness whatsoever for Armand or the movie he was so weirdly obsessed with.

“What? No! Guys? Blade Runner again??”

Armand turned around, face blank again. Daniel simply shrugged,

“Armand likes it”

“But we literally watched it a hundred thousand times!” She protested, reaching for the coffee table where she had left her own movie of choice. “Besides, I brought a movie I want to watch, for once!”

“Oh, come on! “Crossroads”?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just… Britney Spears? Really?”

“You cried during “A Walk to Remember” and Mandy Moore was in it!”

“I did not-”

“It’s a good movie” Armand sentenced, taking the box from Alice’s hands, deft fingers taking out the disc carefully, halting her bickering with Daniel.

“Wait… what?”

“Yeah, what?” Alice echoed her boyfriend’s feeling of confusion. It wasn’t like Armand to ever take her side instead of Daniel’s.

“I think it’s a good movie” He repeated, placing the disc on the player, “It’s entertaining, Britney Spears is endearing, and I like the message of the movie…”

“Oh?” Daniel asked, with genuine curiosity, “And what message is that”

Armand took his place on the couch next to Daniel, eyes intense as he replied,

“That life might change, dreams might change, relationships might change” Alice knew she was not imagining the side look he threw at her. “But true friends stay with you forever”

Oh, the fucking… gremlin! Alice was about ready to throttle him.

"That's it! I'm done!" Unable to stop herself, she jumped from the couch, planting herself in front of her boyfriend and his roommate, to deliver her ultimatum. "I can't deal with this anymore. You have to choose, Daniel. Him" she pointed her finger to a completely serene Armand, "or me"

"Wha- Choose? Alice… What the hell?" Daniel sputtered, beyond confused. "What do you mean to choose?"

"I mean I can't just stand there as I watch this… this… evil imp twink tries to sink his dirty claws on my boyfriend!" Alice was pretty much shrieking, as she flayed her hands around, gesturing wildly as she yelled, "He’s clearly into you, and I’m not so sure you aren’t into him as well anymore, not when you’re making goo-goo eyes at him all the time and constantly ditching me to hang out with him!

So, we're going to settle this once and for all. Which one of us do you want? Is it me or is it him? Because one of us has to go"

Daniel simply stood there, mouth hanging open like a fish, brain fried by the shock. Alice deflated, all her anger and frustration bled away from her after yelling her piece.

“So? Daniel?” She repeated, heartbreak transparent in her expressive brown eyes, “Who’s it gonna be?”

But Daniel couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say anything. Much less what she wanted to hear.

“That’s quite enough, Alice” Armand’s calm but cold voice rang like a bell through the small apartment, commanding the attention of all of its occupants to him. Alice couldn’t ignore the relief that seemed to wash over her apparently soon-to-be ex-boyfriend as his roommate took control of the situation. She couldn’t quite blame him, she guessed, Armand’s entire demeanor had changed, he seemed bigger somehow, taller as he wasn’t slouching anymore. Dominating and domineering, compelling in a way Alice had never seen before, as if the very air inside the tiny living room was standing on guard and ready to obey him.

Truth was, it was kinda hot.

“Daniel?” She begged for the last time, her heart not really in it, unsurprised when Daniel failed to do anything but watch as Armand led her out. The door closed behind her with a deafeningly soft click, and Armand finally turned to face a still-flabbergasted Daniel.

"Can- can you believe her?" He tried, and failed to appear nonchalant, his nervously scratching at the back of his neck and tomato red face giving him away. "She thinks I have some kinda weird gay crush on you…"

Armand simply made a non-committal hum before seemingly deciding on something and marching towards Daniel with an intensity and determination that made the blushing boy weak in the knees.

Luckily, his roommate grabbed him by the collar of his polo, stopping him from falling face first into the floor the moment his soft plush lips crashed into Daniel’s.

And this was a guy. This was Armand, this was his roommate, his best friend, and he knew he should stop it, step away before they fucked all that up…

But he was rooted to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of sensations. It was different from kissing a girl. Hard planes where he was used to soft curves. The tickle of scruff, and slightly chapped lips where he was used to strawberry sweet chapstick. Yet as Armand's tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entrance, Daniel couldn't help but open up to him, to surrender to him, as his tongue conquered every inch of Daniel's mouth, a greddy, hungry victor.

"Wait… this is wrong" Daniel breathed against Armand’s mouth, even as his hands came to rest on the taller boy's larger ones, keeping them there, the metal of his finger rings cool against Daniel’s cheeks.

"Doesn't feel wrong" He quipped, before scraping his teeth against Danie's, tearing a moan out of him.

"No, it doesn't," the boy admitted, pushing one thigh between Armand’s, gasping as he felt one of his roommate's hands slip from his face and come to rest against his lower back, pressing him closer.

"Wait!" Daniel exclaimed again, and this time, Armand did break the kiss.

"What is it, Daniel?"

"Alice was right…" He confessed, uncharacteristically shy, considering one of his thighs was still pressed against Armand’s crotch, "I have a gay crush on you"

Armand threw his head back laughing in that boyish way Daniel had secretly always found so endearing,

"Good" He finally replied, once the chuckles died down. He rested his forehead on Daniel’s, catching his breath, "That's good, because I have a gay crush on you too"

Those were the last words spoken in their apartment for a while.

Moans and gasps don't count as words.

#interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #armand x daniel molloy #fanfiction #crack #humor #crack and fluff #college au #and they were roommates #and they were roomates series

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fruitless-vain · 9 months ago

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I’m gonna cry she did SO GOOD

Brand new outlet mall on a busy Sunday after a week of no outings

Right at opening so she saw the security gates being clattered open- unfazed

No sniffs or excessive staring upon entry

Immediately snapped in to working mode

Got complimented by several store owners/ managers on how GREAT she was- some sharing how much they love her breed and one using her as a reference point for how a SD should generally look since they’ve had some Rough Situations with majorly disruptive dogs lately. They asked some really good questions and were SO nice

A little sniffy passing by the food court but quick to refocus

Super solid settling at every store. We were actually shopping today so lots of stops and turns and she actually loved it! Every turn and stop she did the most emphasized snappy back-up tight turns and sassy auto sits with every stop she was so damn excited by the jerky randomized movements.

She was confused when my medication alarm went off, drifted forwards and began looking around like “uh there’s no kitchen cupboard here idk what I’m supposed to grab?” Settled at a table while I took my pills. Pretty sure she’ll sort out that the alarm on an outing can be ignored and an alarm in the house means grab them so I don’t think I’m gonna worry about that much.

Tons of kids ( and adults 🙄) yelling “puppy!” And trying to get her attention which she simply did not care about. Lady was excited to work and she was gonna Work

A couple HR alerts that resolved quickly

I got an ocular migraine and basically lost half my vision in the process, Yoshi ended up doing a really good job of following Jack despite not being taught that. Obviously not guide level but she made sure I wasn’t falling behind or losing her in crowds which I massively appreciated

Rocked store thresholds, one or two stores where she drifted forwards but the rest were really connecting to offer focus through the threshold. She started getting excited about offering focus at the threshold for a treat so she starting speeding up to get to the thresholds just so she could offer focus at it and get a treat 😂 we resolved that issue pretty quickly though

A little stop and go to exit the mall, a bit excited to get her post work sniffs but once she refocused again we were straight out and fully focused until I degeared her and released her for the sniffs

It was an hour and a half with one short five minute break near the end and she was just as peppy and excited at the start as she was at the end!

#Yoshi #working

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subspencer · 3 years ago

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Imagine being in a relationship with subby!Spence and also working at the BAU. One day, someone brings their dog to work and you just kneel down in front of the puppy and start petting him and cooing, 'who's a good boy'.

And Spence who is just returning from the break room with coffee, overhears you and blurts out 'I am!' before realising he's actually at work and in public, and some of the team just heard that. 🥺💕💕💕 Ofc, you'd later tease him at home for it.

wc: 1,130

cw: sub-leaning switch!spencer. fluffy cuteness, then a whole lot of dirty talk. jealousy (from reader). very light breath play (spencer receiving). use of “good boy” and “slut” (both referring to spencer). reader also makes a lighthearted joke about calling spencer their “pet” but it’s not qualified as pet play/puppy kink.

It was a silly little slip-up that could happen to anyone. At least that’s what you tell him.

It was Anderson’s fault; he couldn’t find a dogsitter that day, so he brought in his brand new puppy to the office. Around lunch time, he started showing off all of the new tricks he taught him, and a small crowd had gathered outside of the break room to watch the adorable chocolate-coated labrador bounce around.

Anderson handed you one of Scrappy’s dog bones and let you try commanding one of the tricks he learned.

“Scrappy, turn over!” you got onto your knees and waved the treat in front of the puppy’s face, and sure enough, he rolled over. “Good job, Scrappy!” you squealed, and at your excitement, the little ball of energy climbed your lap, pawing at your shoulders and licking your face. You giggled, scratching his fur, “Who’s a good boy, Scrappy? Who’s a good boy?”

Spencer, who missed the entire beginning of that situation, walked right out of the break room just then, taking a sharp left turn. At first, he only saw you, kneeling on the floor with your back to him, as you cooed, “Who’s a good boy?”

He smiled, giddy inside at hearing the pet name you kept for him in private, and bent down to press a kiss on your cheek, “I am!”

You whipped your head around, jaw dropping at him. “Spence…” you winced.

“What?” he pouted cutely, sticking his bottom lip out exaggeratedly. “I am, aren’t I?”

Your eyes flicked to the side and he followed. Sure enough, to the right hand side of the door, was a gathering of your colleagues all holding back laughter. Derek’s whole fist was in his mouth to stifle his need to scream out, and Emily’s lip turned white with how hard she bit down on it. Everyone else was in a similar state, and Spencer’s face turned white.

He spent the entire day unable to live that moment down. Each time he did something, like help Derek find a reference he was looking for or turn in a form to Hotch (yes, even Hotch), he saw them physically restrain themselves from blurting it out to him. Emily and Penelope didn’t even try to hold back.

On the whole drive home, he kept his head in his hands, silently screaming into his palms as you tried to assure him it wasn’t a big deal.

By the time you get into bed, he still hasn’t gotten over it. He sat through dinner, read his book, and took his pre-bedtime shower all while thinking about it. And now, he can’t even cuddle you like normal because he’s so wrapped up in the thoughts of every embarrassing thing he’s ever done playing in his head.

“Spencer,” you complain, wrapping your arms around his waist tighter. He’s neglecting to hold you in return; his eyes are glued to the ceiling. You can tell where his head is at, and groan as you sit up.

“Spencer, look at me,” you move to straddle his lap, bending over him to bring your face close to his as you cup his cheek. “It’s fine.”

He lets out an incoherent mumble, something you know to be self-pitying, and you ignore it as you start kissing his neck. His words eventually trail off as you begin rolling your hips down on him while nipping at his skin. You smile to yourself, hoping he’s feeling a little better now, but when you look up at his face he’s still pouting with big, sad eyes.

“Aw, baby,” you coo, pecking his pouting lips. “So what if you let our little secret slip today? It’s okay,” you reassure, rubbing your palm over the sides of his torso. “You just wanted everyone to know how good you are for me.”

You smile, putting your hand under his tee and finding your way to his chest. The fabric bunches up on your wrist as you move your hand up, and you lower your head to kiss his newly exposed skin.

“You’re such a good boy,” you sigh between kisses, “and everyone should know it.” It’s working to relax him a little. Spencer’s hands wrap around your back, a small whine bubbles in his throat. “They should know you’re my good boy.”

Your voice gets stern as you remember the others in the office calling him your pet name. Even if they were just teasing, no one gets to call him that but you. “Did you like it when everyone called you a good boy today?” you drip jealousy, tugging his hair to force him to look at you. “I bet you got a real kick out of that. All those pretty girls telling you you’re a good boy.”

A small cry escapes his lips as you kiss him roughly, twisting his strands in your fingers.

“N-no. I promise,” he pants as you move to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask into his ear, grinding down on his hardening dick. “Because I think my little slut liked that.”

His grip tightens on your hips as you begin rocking back and forth. Your hand moves to his throat, wrapping around as you squeeze, very lightly, around him. “I think they need a reminder, you’re good only for me.”

He nods as much as he can with your fingers restricting his movement. “Only for you.”

“Maybe I’ll buy you your own little collar,” you snicker, rolling forward to match his desperate little thrusts. “Have everyone know you’re my little pet.”

He groans at the joke you couldn’t help but to make. It was just too easy. You giggle in his ear, releasing your hold on his throat to travel down his body and palm at his erection. He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from him as he flips you, putting you on your back with him on top.

You gasp at how quickly he changed your situation, using his knee to knock your legs apart as he nestles perfectly between them. With just a few gracious waves of his hips, putting friction right at the perfect spot in your center, he has you mewling under him.

Your hands come down to his hips, pressing him closer to you and urging his rocking to go deeper, give you more friction. But he removes them again, using one large hand to pin both your wrists above your head. You strain against his hold, not believing he’d truly deny you of touching him, but he does. His grip remains firm and he lifts his hips away from yours, leaving you whining.

“I think,” he says in one breathy laugh, fanning over your face, “I’d rather have them know how good you can be for me.”

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #minors dni #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #blurb #sub!spencer #switch!spencer

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years ago

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How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

When people meet, they often use small talk as a means to negotiate and define the start of a new relationship. When you and Bucky meet, you both struggle to find the right words.

WARNING: talk of therapy, references to trauma and anxiety, and mild cursing

I. Show genuine interest.

“You’re new.”

“Excuse me?”

You shifted in your seat and eyed the man sitting across from you in the waiting room. His piercing cerulean eyes were squinted in your direction, right where he aimed his question. Despite the puppy-like confusion apparent in the way his head was cocked to the side, there was an edge to the mystery man. Perhaps it came from his clothes.

The jacket he wore was pitch black, a leather-like material that squeaked against the back of his chair when he moved. It looked brand new. Not to mention the matching gloves. His hands, joined together and resting on his abdomen, were covered in thick, dark fabric. There was not an inch of skin exposed, save for his face.

Though judging by the permanent scowl etched on his lips as he stared at you in wait for your reply, perhaps the man’s harsh edge ran deeper.

“The waiting room never has had more than like four people in it at a time,” you explained. “Until this week, until you, I waited by myself. So, you’re new.”

“Great powers of observation,” he quipped, though his tone lacked any lightness typical of teasing.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gloved hands against the tops of his thighs. He looked towards the twin pair of doors that fed into Dr. Raynor’s and Dr. Briam’s respective offices. You smiled to yourself at the sight: a big man, an otherwise scary man was nervous for therapy. You could sympathize as, not too long ago, you had been in his place.

“Was it an intervention? A work note? An epiphany?”

At your questions, the man fixed his gaze on you again. “What?”

“What brought you to the services of Raynor and Briam?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” While his voice was without a cutting coldness, his question wounded you. You overstepped your bounds. Time to wage a retreat.

“Sorry,” you murmured as you curled up and in your seat.

You looked away from the man in the hopes of distracting yourself from the searing shame. Quickly, your attention found the colorful pile of untouched magazines set out on a nearby side table. Despite your apology, you could still feel the sharpness of his eyes on you.

When you grew back the nerve and snuck a glance back at him, the man’s gaze was still fixed on you. Alarms rang in your ears as you turned to face him from across the waiting room once more. For a long moment, you just gawked at each other, waited for the other to speak.

Finally, the tension broke and, simultaneously, you both said, “sorry.”

A breathy laugh slipped past your lips, tilted and light. “Talking isn’t one of my strong suits.”

“Not mine either, not anymore,” the man sighed. However faint, there were slight, upward pullings at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close. Close enough that you felt a hopeful realization bloom in your chest. How handsome he would look with a real smile.

You met his eyes and asked, “can...can we just start over?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.”

“Great,” you reached out your right hand towards him, across the vastness of the waiting room like an olive branch. “I’m Y/N.”

He glanced from your hand to your eyes and back again before he hesitantly extended his left. The tips of your fingers brushed and you saw the man’s body tense. After a moment passed, he joined your hands. His grip was strong and tight and, despite the glove, cold.

“Hi, Y/N.” Against your will, a fuller smile played on your lips, satisfied by how smooth your name sounded in his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

II. Ask open-ended questions.

“How would you describe yourself?”

“What?”

“How would you describe yourself?” You echoed, a little louder than the first time.

“What do you mean?”

With a groan, you stood from your seat and strode over to where Bucky sat across from you. You settled in the seat beside him and held the magazine you were reading out to him. Empathetically, you pointed at the first question of the lifestyle quiz you found. Bucky squinted at the small typography and scoffed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a quiz in a magazine,” you pointed out, “it’s not supposed to make sense.”

“But am I a ‘curious cat stalking along a window sill’ or a ‘peaceful breeze blowing through a seashell windchime’? What...what does that even mean?” Bucky glanced from the page to you with furrowed brows.

“Which one speaks to you?”

“I don’t know. Is there a dejected crocodile or something?”

You laughed at his question, at the imagery of a saddened gator, and fought to catch your breath. When you finally were able to fill your lungs and meet Bucky’s gaze, you saw that he was serious. His blue eyes were fixed on you with a stillness that startled you. Curiosity struck you, just as it did the first day you saw him.

“A crocodile? Why a crocodile?” Your eyes flicked over Bucky’s face, trying to read his reaction to your query. He met your gaze before he pulled back and sighed.

“I saw some in Africa when I...I lived there. They seemed hostile.”

“You’re hostile?” You raised a brow at him as you asked. You made a mental note to ask him about his stint in Africa later.

Bucky met your eyes and replied, “when provoked. When I don’t have a choice.”

“Well that’s not dark or ominous,” you jeered. When he didn’t make a quip back at you, you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You’re here for anger issues then?”

A heavy sigh rolled through Bucky’s chest. He looked away, up towards the windows of the waiting room that were put far too high along the grey wall, too high to reach. Then, all at once, he was far away, lost in thoughts and feelings you were not privy to, despite longing to be. There was something about Bucky that was still a mystery to you and carried the same spark of newness that endeared you to him.

“There were times where I lost control,” he admitted as he looked back at you. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Sounds like it was an intervention that brought you here.” You silently hoped that your teasing would lessen the sudden tension that grew between you.

“It wasn’t an intervention,” he replied, his eyes drifting back up towards the window.

You frowned at his distant expression. It hit you, in that moment, that Bucky was still a stranger. His truth, his truths, were still hidden to you. You wanted to ask him so many questions but you knew better than to venture too far. The first exchange you had with Bucky taught you that.

So, instead, you turned in the chair beside him and held out the magazine so you both could read through the next few quiz questions. You had to start somewhere.

“I’m putting you down as a ‘curious cat’,” you said, “you seem like a cat guy. Aloof.”

Following your statement, a hum of amusement reached your ears. You glanced at Bucky and saw that the softest of smiles rested on his lips. Pleased with yourself, you looked back to the magazine and read off the next question.

“Alright so, ‘Reach back to your inner-child and ask yourself: what do you want to be when you grow up’, Bucky?”

“Is ‘just okay’ an option? Or ‘happy’?”

III. Never get too personal.

“You’re late.”

“I had an errand,” Bucky replied as he fell into the seat beside you. His seat.

“An errand? What are you, fifty?”

“I wish.”

“What? You want to be older?” You eyed Bucky warily.

“Youn-” he met your gaze and saw the confusion in your face. “Nevermind.”

“You’re a strange one, Bucky...Bucky...what’s your last name?”

“Nunya,” he replied, without missing a beat; but you knew this joke. You raised a brow at him and released a long, unamused sigh through your nose.

“Nunya business?”

“Damn right.”

There was a bitter, closed-lip smile on Bucky’s face as he spoke. Despite the expression, his eyes did not linger long on you. At the angle you sat at, you thought you saw his slightly upturned mouth fall, too easily, into a frown. You assumed that it was because you ruined his extremely outdated joke.

Gently, you bumped your shoulder against his. “We gotta get you new material.”

“Or what? People will think I’m fifty?”

He met your gaze with a bored look on his face. In spite of your best efforts to reply with a quick, witty retort, you found yourself immersed in Bucky’s presence. His cerulean eyes never left yours and you felt your resolve begin to melt. Your eyes flicked across his face, to his scruff-covered jaw and soft pink lips. It took all of your strength to meet Bucky’s eyes again and form a somewhat full sentence.

“Not looking as good as you do.”

You meant to fire it back, make it sting despite your words being more of a compliment than an insult. But the words were soft, a murmur that contained too much of your heart, and betrayed your true thoughts. You felt that truth and quickly averted your gaze to the too-high windows. Bucky let out a pleased huff.

“Careful. That almost sounded like flattery, Y/N...Y/N...what’s your last name?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, yeah, I get it. None of my business.”

A strained silence fell over the two of you. The dulled ticking of the waiting room clock soaked in the empty space that your voices once filled. Part of you feared that Bucky could hear the pounding of your heart. You were all too aware of the steady, thundering thumping in your chest.

In an attempt to muffle or overshadow the wild beating of your heart, you asked, “have you been given therapy homework yet?”

“Sort of,” Bucky replied, “kind of. It’s more self-assigned.”

“You’re an overachiever, then, huh?”

Your teasing, the distance your humor put you at, restored a level of comfort. In it, you felt confident enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. As you turned, your gaze trailed up his chest, skimmed along the cozy-looking material of his grey shirt. A striking glimpse of metal caught your attention, but Bucky’s voice coaxed your eyes to his.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” he sighed, and he raised his hands. “I’m pretty average.”

“I doubt that,” you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Really?”

You turned your head to meet Bucky’s eyes and, again, you felt the thumping in your chest hasten. “Really.”

“Bold of you to assume. You don’t even know my last name.”

“Yet,” you pressed, “you’ll spill it to me one of these days. You may look good, but you also look like you need the therapy. We’ll be seeing each other often.”

A stunted laugh slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. He rarely laughed. If you could get half a smile out of him you were pleased. So, when a chuckle did slip, you savored the sound.

You let yourself watch him, how his head tilted back slightly when he looked up to the windows of the waiting room. It was then you saw the glint of a metal chain around his neck. You traced the shining material with your gaze until you saw the two dog tags that rested against his chest. The lapel of his jacket nearly obscured them, but you managed to read one in full.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Sargent. Camp Lehigh. DOB: 1917.

Based on the year, the date of birth, it had to be a relative, a grandfather, or an uncle, with the same name. As well as the same nickname? However strange it was, you knew Bucky’s last name: Barnes. Yet, you would wait for him to tell you himself. He would, one day.

IV. Practice active listening.

He was quiet, more so than usual.

When you walked into the waiting room, Bucky was already there, sat in his seat. When you greeted him, he didn’t respond. He only nodded and leaned heavily against the back of his chair. It didn’t take long for you to note the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and the more prominent lines of his face. The evidence of his lack of sleep was clear.

“You alright?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what Raynor is for. But I’m here if you change your mind,” and, added as an afterthought, “if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. His gaze remained fixed on the wall ahead, the black greyness that stood like stone across from you. Worry struck your chest with a sudden ache. It didn’t help that his silence stung. All-day you looked forward to seeing Bucky, but he was so far away.

Even when you looked at him, Bucky seemed small. Almost as if he were sat a few seats down rather than in the one right beside yours. You raked your eyes over his form, desperate for any sign that he was present, in the moment with you. As you drank him in, Bucky remained unmoved and as out of reach as the waiting room windows.

Aside from the exhaustion clear on his face, he held himself as he normally did. There was a slight slouch in his shoulders, that would disappear when he stood, and his arms rested against the supports the chair provided. Your eyes graced over his chest. Beneath his standard dark jacket, he wore a charcoal grey shirt and, if you looked long enough, you thought you saw his dog tags sticking out against the fabric. He kept them hidden, except for the last time you saw him.

Aside from his tired appearance, Bucky looked the same. Had it been just a rough night? Or did something happen? Outside of the waiting room, you knew little to nothing about Bucky. You considered Googling him, just to see what would pop up. Maybe he had an Instagram or a Facebook you could stalk; though the thought of seeing him with his arm slung over some old lover made your stomach churn. It was better to keep the Internet’s knowledge about Bucky Barnes a secret despite how desperately you wanted to know more.

The temptation to ask him, prod him to get some sort of answer, or answers, was strong. To combat it, you picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. Not your first choice, but you needed to ease the itch of curiosity. Plus, the post-Blip world was a wild one, even for professional sports teams.

Feigning interest in the politics of football proved more difficult than you first imagined. Like the rest of the world, the realm of sports was floundering with its struggle to manage newly returned players and the teams they scraped together during their five-year absence. You began to wonder which half Bucky found himself with. Had he disappeared or had he remained? You still were unsure as to which was better.

It was part of why you used the therapy services Dr. Briam provided. Was that why Bucky met with Dr. Raynor? Just as your mind started to wander through every possibility, your quiet companion shifted in his seat. You looked over to him only to find his eyes were fixed on you.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. Your brows furrowed and you felt a frown form on your lips.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Bucky hesitated and you saw the glimmer of a maybe in his eyes before he replied with another curt, “no.”

“Okay. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the carpeted floor below his booted feet. You looked at the same spot but saw nothing. Slowly, you returned your gaze to Bucky, studied how his left arm rested near your right one. He was closer now, and you wanted to keep him that way.

Carefully, almost as if you were reaching out to a wounded animal, you extended your right hand. Your fingertips brushed against his left forearm and Bucky flinched. At his movement, you paused, looked to his face for permission. His eyes were stilled fixed on the floor and you could almost hear him slipping so far away again, crashing into the untamable waves his nightmares left in their wake.

To anchor him, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t squeeze, fearing it would be too much. You simply held his left hand in your right and silently marveled at how cool it felt beneath the material of his glove. A moment passed and Bucky didn’t react. You took a deep breath and resigned yourself back to the uninteresting issue of Sports Illustrated in your free hand.

A minute of silent reading went by when you felt his grip tighten around your hand. You didn’t dare to say a word. You only listened to the shuddering relief of his next breath.

V. Put your phone away.

“What was that?”

“My phone.”

“Really? I thought it was a lightbulb,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m aware it’s a phone.”

“How could I forget your great powers of observation.” Playing into your mild offense, Bucky feigned a frightfully embarrassed slap to his forehead.

“Funny,” you grumbled, “but it looked like you had a shit ton of missed calls.”

“Were you spying on me?”

You raised your hands in defense. “You pulled the phone out and the appallingly long list of uncleared notifications disgusted me.”

“I can’t figure out how to clear them.”

“You just swipe and then there’s a little ‘Clear’ button you press.” Bucky frowned and reached back into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and held it out to you. Dumbfounded by this action, you glanced up from the dark screen and back to Bucky’s eyes. He gestured to the device and nodded.

“Can you show me?”

“Uh, I, yeah. Yeah, I can. Can you um-”

“Oh,” Bucky pulled his phone back to him and typed in the passcode to unlock it. When he handed it back to you, you were met with a horribly unorganized home screen and a messaging app icon with over a hundred missed texts. You glanced up from the phone and to Bucky, ready to teasingly chastise him for the state of his device.

But, when you moved to look him in the eyes, you nearly knocked your head against his. He was leaning over, close to your shoulder, prepared to study your message-clearing technique. Though, when your eyes fell to him, his attention was refocused on you. In that instant, a rush of warmth overwhelmed your senses.

He was so close you could smell the leather of his jacket and whatever generic brand soap he used in the shower. You could also feel his breath dance along the skin of your face and neck. It stirred goosebumps to life and sent a shiver down your spine. In an effort to suppress the tremble that threatened to overtake you, you turned your eyes back to his phone.

“So, all you need to do is drag down the top screen and,” you quickly walked him through the steps of clearing his message notifications. A lot were from someone named Sam, who asked how Bucky was, where he was, and if he was attending a memorial service or not. Before you saw too much, you handed Bucky his phone back.

“That’s it?” He mirrored your movements and old messages began to disappear off his screen.

“Yup,” you breathed, “just like that.”

“Alright, but then how do I add a new contact?”

“You really don’t know how to do that? How old are you?” You held out your hand and he wordlessly placed his phone back in your grasp. “You just click on ‘Contacts’ and hit ‘Add New Contact’ and put in their information.”

“You should put yours in.”

Another rush of heat washed over and through you as you looked up at Bucky. There was a startling seriousness in his face, lessened only by the hints of a smile on his lips. Your mouth opened but no words came out. At least, not at first.

“What?”

“Your number, you should give me your number. If you want.”

“Y-Yeah.” In a numbed, almost mechanical manner, you entered your contact information before you handed back his phone. “There I am.”

“There you are,” Bucky echoed softly. He barely met your eyes but he didn’t seem unnerved, at least not as shaken as you felt. He was perfectly and horribly unfazed by the implications of his words. Or maybe you were reading into it. So much of Bucky was still a mystery to you. He still hadn’t told you his last name!

But you knew of his nightmares. You didn’t know the names of the ghosts that haunted him, but you knew they existed and that they scared him. It didn’t scare you. You had your own skeletons, and you held in your heart some strange longing to know his.

As if hoping to sneak a glance at them, you gazed up at Bucky. His eyes found yours in an instant and you wondered if he was ready and willing to talk to you about his nightmares. Or maybe he was finally going to tell you his last name. Or just tell you something about him.

Just as his pink lips parted, the door to Dr. Raynor’s office opened with a click. The small, otherwise unnoticed sound, snapped the tension that budded between you and Bucky.

In turn, you and Bucky, looked over to find Dr. Raynor. She poked her head out from behind the door, just as she had many times before. Her dark-framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose as she eyed Bucky, sending him a silent, eerie greeting. She looked as frightening and hawk-like as ever.

“Ready for you,” she deadpanned.

Bucky nodded and stood from his chair. You watched him walk over towards Dr. Raynor’s door. It nearly broke your heart when he didn’t look back at you, though you weren’t quite sure why.

VI. Longing.

You wiped at your eyes as you strode out of Dr. Briam’s office. Knowing full well that Bucky wasn’t in the waiting room, as his sessions with Dr. Raynor started earlier than yours with Briam, you charged towards the door. The next two clients that sat in the plush chairs eyed you and the tears streaming down your cheeks as you passed by.

You were long past caring about what anyone else thought. Hell, you barely noticed their thrown gazes as you pushed open the door to the office building and stomped out into the daylight. Once you were stood on the top stair, you took a deep breath. You felt your lung swell and, as you held in the air for a few more seconds, you imagined your every anxiety being pushed out with your long exhale.

Dr. Briam’s technique helped as you felt your shoulders sink with a sudden, but not total, loss of tension. Tears still slipped down your cheeks as you made your way down the stairs. You wiped at them as you started your journey home. Home, yes, there you could curl up and disappear for a few hours. That was what you needed.

Everything and everyone else was too much. Well, nearly everyone else.

Still walking at a fast pace, you barely noticed the blur of dark clothes that stepped towards you. That was until you felt someone grab your upper arm. You nearly shrieked and prepared to make a scene when you looked up. A pair of cerulean blue eyes found your gaze and almost instantly eased your panic.

“Bucky! You scared the shit out of me!”

He let go of your arm and raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Why are you lingering?” You asked, fixing your slightly disheveled clothes. Relatively satisfied with your handiwork, you focused back on Bucky. His eyes had never left your figure. “Bucky?”

“I...you seemed quiet today and I didn’t ask about it. So, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright but,” he reached out a brushed a tear from your cheek, “you’re not.”

“Is anyone really ever alright?” You forced a smile to your lips, an expression that Bucky mirrored sympathetically before he frowned. “I’m fine. You can go, you’re probably busy.”

You thought bitterly of the mystery person, Sam.

“At least let me walk you home.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” you joked, silently hoping that it would deter him. Yet, Bucky lingered and looked at you as seriously as ever. “Okay.”

Quickly, Bucky fell into step at your side as you maneuvered through writhing throngs of people on their way to and from. Every so often, your hand knocked against his gloved one and made your insides twist. The twisting turned to aching on the occasions where Bucky held your elbow and guided you around a particularly messy bunch of commuters.

“You walked this way for each session?”

“Each session,” you replied, looking up at Bucky. “Why?”

“Jus’ seems really busy.”

“It’s not always this bad. Plus, there’s a nice little park down over, oh! Right here.”

You stopped and gestured to a small fountain surrounded by benches. Manicured green knolls of grass and scattered, flowering trees surrounded the little park, which was empty compared to the streets. You glanced at Bucky and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Sit with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and he let you guide him over to one of the benches. With a huff, you sat down and he followed suit. The wooden planks of the bench creaked under his added weight and, as if ushered by the sound, Bucky leaned closer to you.

You watched him as he took in your new surroundings. It looked as if he were surveying the area for any threats that could be hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was why Bucky was such an enrapturing mystery to you: he always looked ready for a fight. Like his dejected crocodile, he was just waiting to be provoked. You were ready to do just that after weeks of tiptoeing around him.

“You never told me,” you said softly. Your voice coaxed Bucky’s eyes to yours.

“Told you what?”

“Why you came to Dr. Raynor.”

Bucky frowned and after a long pause he sighed. “A court order.”

“A court order? That’s…impressive? I don’t know the context, so, I can’t, and won’t, judge.”

Bucky let out a breathy, almost nervous-sounding chuckle as his gaze fell to the pavement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I think if you did, you would judge.”

You furrowed your brows and waited for Bucky to look back at you. When he did, you felt your breath catch. In the sunlight, his eyes seemed brighter. Though, the heaviness of his knitted brow stole away their shine. He really believed you would judge him, after everything?

“Try me.”

“Y/N-”

“I want to know.” Bucky frowned but you pressed on. “I want to know you, Bucky.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re...interesting. Equally annoying and mysterious. It helps that you’re,” you sighed, “you’re good-looking too.”

A smile, the biggest you had ever seen Bucky put spread along his lips. His gaze fell to the sidewalk bashfully before he met your eyes once more. You thought back to the day you met and found yourself breaking out into a grin. He did look handsome when he really smiled.

“I’m nothing compared to you,” Bucky replied. “Talkin’ about both good-looking and annoying.”

“Then you know I won’t stop pestering you until you start to share,” you shifted towards him. “I want to know who you are, Bucky.”

His eyes flickered down from yours to your lips and back again. “What if I don’t really know myself?”

“Then start with what you do know.” You held out both of your hands towards him. Bucky glanced down at your open palms. When he met your gaze you saw a glint of fear that quickly melted into, what you could only describe as, relief.

Wordlessly, Bucky lifted his hands and began to peel off his gloves. First was his right. The sight of fingers made you strangely giddy. You had never seen the skin of his hands before. Then, he moved to his left and, finger by finger, he pulled the glove off. Sleek, shining, and metal, Bucky’s left hand was exposed.

You inhaled sharply at the sight but did not flinch away. Instead, you met Bucky’s eyes again and nodded. Carefully, he grabbed both of your hands in his. The contrast of his warm flesh and the cool, steel-like material sent a shock down your spine. You studied your joined hands before you looked back up at Bucky. A trembling breath rattled in his chest.

“I am James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I’m from Brooklyn and I used to be the Winter Soldier.”

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nexyra · 4 years ago

Text

RWBY's Love Language - Part 2

Hello friend ! I'm back at it with a second part and whatever character I can think of ! (Among which best boy Oscar because he deserves it, and also more adults)

Let's go !

***

Oscar Pine

So ! While I love Oscar with my whole heart, honestly guessing his Love Language is no easy feat. One thing for sure : touch isn't is thing even if it's how everyone else chose to communicate their love.

I saw a post a while back detailing how Oscar is always putting his hands up as a barrier when he's scared or uncomfortable and that makes me cry a little instead but it's true TT. Anyway...

In the latest volumes we've got quite a bit of comforting Oscar-talks but I have to wonder how much of that is due to Ozpin's influence really. As a result I've decided to settle on... Acts of Service or Quality Time ! This is based on a few details : when people are upset with him in one shape or form, Oscar was always very eager to prove himself useful, give some aspect of concrete help (such as cooking a Casserole, ringing any bell ?). Plus I imagine that's the exact brand of help his Aunt would have needed most on a farm. Added to that, he always seems fairly happy to be included, be with the others no matter what's going on. Training ? Yay ! A movie with Jaune & Weiss ? Smiling puppy look. Fancy party ? Shenanigans together ! So yea, I love seeing my boy loved and hugged but please everyone settle for the loving he's most comfortable with <3

“She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself! So do I.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought you guys would appreciate a hot meal after... spending all day looking for me, apparently.”

“No, it's okay. These past few days, I've been scared of the same things you were. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be... me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Ozpin

For our favorite immortal wizard aka not quite dead Headmaster... I think the answer is rather obvious. When you're so careful with your words, but also so fiercely devoted to humanity, Words of Affirmation is a must. Ozpin constantly does his best to calm, to reassure. He's good at controlling the conversation and getting people where he wants... Except he more often than not use it to make them think and help them reach an healing ore motivating conclusion. This man is so insisten on giving and cultivating hope, so painfully aware of just how much words can change... There's no doubt in my mind that it's through these very same words that he tries to fight the darkness in others' mind, even when they don't want to let themselves be persuaded. And with some help from the farmboi, Ozpin is gaining in honesty and earnestness. And that can only help in giving comfort.

But to be honest... If you offer him a hug I doubt he'd refuse, and he definitely deserves one. Also therapy. For Oscar too. Everyone in therapy 2k21.

“Ruby. I've made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment I would not consider your appointment to leader to be one of them. Do you?”

“It's not every day that friends are able to come together like this. Time has a way of testing our bonds, but it's nights like these that can help keep them stronger than ever. Nights like these are ones we'll never forget.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Arc. Your journey is far from over, and the same might be said for all of you. Unlocking your Semblance isn't the end. It can still grow and evolve. Providing you are willing to put in the work, who knows what could happen?”

- - - - - - - - - -

Emerald Sustrai

Now here I'm gonna go ahead and say that the way Emerald has been taught to express her love and the way SHE would rather preffered to be loved most likely do not align. At the side of someone like Cinder, and even Mercury who isn't exactly the most emotionally vulnerable person; the only brand of love that gets an easy pass is Acts of Service, and that's probably what Emerald is the most used to. I can go on a mission with you. I can help. We go right back to the "I can be useful" mentality and I'm not sure she's been shown any other way honestly. Let's be real though : if someone offered a hug or some gentle words ? She'd probably pout & fuss but I hardly doubt she'd object.

“I don't care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything. You want to fight her that bad? Be my guest.”

“I just... Cinder was the only family I ever had. She cared about me, taught me things... But without her here, I don't know if what we're doing--”

“I've been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won't tell anybody.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Pyrrha Nikos

What's with everyone and dedicating their whole love toward just helping their teammates anyway they can ?! Stop ! But any way, you guessed it. I'm pretty sure one of Pyrrha's top way of showing love is Acts of Service, and nothing means quite as much to her as Quality Time. For someone who's been put on a pedestal and has a hard time relating to people; both touch and words can be a bit awkward. But if they're wrapped up neatly in a training session or semblance explanations ? Well that's already a more familiar area. Pyrrha gives her whole to her friends and those she cares about. And in exchange, if anyone can simply... be there and spend time with her... May it be at the ball or simply sitting in the courtyard... I'm sure our girl would be delighted.

“Jaune, you know if you ever need help, you can just ask.”

“I'm constantly surrounded by love and praise; but when you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place. But thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime.”

“I'll do it. If you believe this will help humanity, then I will become your Fall Maiden.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Qrow Branwen

If I say Gift Giving for the corvid, is someone gonna hit me ? Come on it's fun ! Okay, more seriously... I think this kind of love conversation is kind of a necessity for Qrow. With a semblance such as Bad Luck, making everything complicated... Qrow tries to keep his distance from those he cares about. And since he's an emotionally repressed (but caring) asshole on top of it... Well that kinda narrows down his option. You know what DOESN'T put anyone at risk but can still bring smiles on their face ? GIFTS. Shiny things, souvenirs from his missions all over the world to give to 2 smol nieces. Sounds safe right ? That said, as any good emotionally unavailable character in this show, I gotta say Qrow probably has a thing for helping out and making himself useful in relation to Oz, Tai or the rest of the inner circle. So you know what that means *whisper* Acts of Service.

That said ! When it comes to receiving some love back... Qrow probably likes everything he doesn't allow himself to have. Soft touches, loving & comforting words, spending time with a friend without his semblance making everything complicated... We know that's all he wants.

“You idiot. I know you didn't do this.”

“Look, pal, I'm not sure who you are, but you need to leave my niece alone.”

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...”

- - - - - - - - - -

Clover Ebi

And among our newbies (and gone too soon) friends we have Clover ! Clover was a very good contrast to our dusty old crow but also a great help. Kind-hearted, perceptive and honest; he knew just how to put Qrow's self-loathing in his place and push him to give himself some credit. He always had a nice word or a joke for everyone, and visibly the rock of the Ace Ops : an expert a keeping the moral up and the mood companiable. Evidently, Words of Affirmation was his expertise. Had things gone differently, I'm sure we'd have had time for many more earnest and helpful conversations with this teal-eyed fisherman.

“It's a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I meant deflect a compliment. Those kids wouldn't be where they are without you. You've had more of an effect on them than you realize.”

“We don't have to fight, friend.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Winter Schnee

And today in the "emotionally unavailable" category we have... Winter Schnee ! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS PEOPLE ! Just - I would say look at Ruby but even she doesn't talk about her bad vibes... Nor does any of the "Words of Affirmation" peeps. Honestly what's wrong with y'all people ? Anyway Winter cares so much. Is it hidden behind professionalism and a stern *big sister* demeanour ? Sure. But it doesn't negate just how much she loves her closed ones. She's fiercely loyal, and even if she doesn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her duty and doing what needs to be done, no one is allowed to say she doesn't care. Countrary to Weiss, Winter doesn't seem as good nor as aware of the love that exists in simply *being* with people. Rather, she's dutiful and ready to help any way she can when given the chance. You guessed it, yet another Acts of Service kind of love... Maybe I'm doing this wrong XD. I'm on the fence about Words of Affirmation as well. Despite her standoffish looks, Winter has always been very open & reassuring during her discussions with Penny. But she's more stern when it comes to Weiss so I dunno x)

“I don't recall asking about your ranking, I'm asking how you've been. Are you eating properly? Have you taken up any hobbies? Are you making new friends?”

“You've grown up a bit, haven't you? You're not the little girl clinging to the family name anymore.”

“You can't just buy trust like everything else! You have to earn it!”

And that's it for Part 2 ! I might do some other characters if people suggest some but I don't have a pressing need to right now. I have many ideas of songs to apply to various characters however so that's prob what my next posts will consist of (or fun templates)

If anyone has tips to create RWBY gifs or links to download the eps in good quality I'll take it ! Good day everyone !

#rwby #oscar pine #emerald sustrai #ozpin #winter schnee #qrow branwen #clover ebi #pyrrha nikos #love language #fair game #love langauges

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sourwormsaresour · 4 years ago

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Headcanons on the type of pets La Squadra would own?

Holy shit this was too fun to make, especially with giving the pets names.

Sorbet and Gelato have their own Crusty-White-Dog™ that's a Maltese Terrier named Armani. The dog hates and barks nonstop at everything deemed threatening (aka, everyone and particularly the rest of La Squadra) and yet those two will claim she's the sweetest thing in the world. True to her name, they deck her with Armani branded clothes, either specially made dog fashion or they had a DIY done to make it look like an Armani outfit- down to the bright pink leash she wears dripping in the Armani logo. She eats the finest dry kibble and only drinks Ferrarelle Sparkling water; she will know the difference if you switch it up. She's the epitome of "I demand pets but only do so with your eyes" to everyone. Despite loving Sorbet and Gelato the most, she demands all their attention on her and she will cockblock those two if she catches them being affectionate to each other instead. Despite having a nice bed, she always sleeps between the two of them and will whimper if they kick her out of the bedroom so they can get intimate. Those tear-stained eyes always look like they've seen everything, despite being constantly babied by her owners. If Armani could, she would kill everyone.

Risotto, the biggest man in Vento Aureo, has a little Syrian hamster he called Ace. He thought that a pet with a shorter lifespan would allow him the perfect balance of having a pet but not being very attached to it compared to pets that live longer- he was wrong. If you ever come into Risotto's office as he worked, either you are greeted with Ace running around in his green hamster ball, walking around Risotto's desk as he worked, or running in the hamster wheel behind the desk. Ace's tank is an old Aquarium tank Pesci gave to Risotto that is now full of soft bedding, toys, and Risotto frequently cleans it. There are days where Risotto just spends hours watching his hamster walk around the room, eating little treats, and staring at Risotto with its beady eyes. It's gotten to the point where you can't walk into Risotto's office without noticing a lone sunflower seed or piece of bedding on the ground that Risotto didn't notice until you pointed it out. Every time Ace passes from old age, Risotto buys a new Syrian hamster and calls that one Ace. He hasn't kept track of how many hamsters that came and went so far, but treated every one of them as if they were the first Ace. He takes pictures of Ace doing the most relatively boring things and will share them with his members.

Illuso got a Sulphur-crested cockatoo named Scapino as a joke. He thought they didn’t require much attention but later felt bad when he found out that they need specific proper care. He proceeds to care for it as if it was his child. Illuso taught his bird how to speak and swear at people, specifically swearing at Formaggio and occasionally at Ghiaccio. This man will shower his bird with the best treats (expensive nuts, dried fruit, chicken bones) and has a special bar for it to perch on when they're in the shower together. This bird has free reign all over Illuso's place and wears a little anklet thing to verify that it has an owner should it escape. The two of them have spa days together and it’s one of the most wholesome things in the world to witness. Scapino will actually join Illuso on missions too, staying in the mirror world the whole time, and it provides him some comfort from his social anxiety. Sometimes Scapino sits on his shoulder as he walks. Illuso trained it to stay and hide in the mirror world so that it wouldn’t fly away or blow his cover when he’s working. But the bird will fly around in there and will watch anyone that’s getting murked in front of him with no remorse and commenting on it too. Imagine you’re dying in the mirror world and your last moment is this fucking bird looming over you going “night night, motherfucker”. JESUS CHRIST.

Prosciutto used to be on the whole “pets are unnecessary” train but he had considered looking at breeders for the best quality dog. And then one rainy day he found an abandoned Portuguese Water Dog puppy in an alleyway and at Pesci’s insistence took it in. Turns out the puppy was bought by a rich family for their kid but then abandoned when the kid wasn't interested in it anymore. Prosciutto insisted that the dog was going to stay for one night and then sent to the pound first thing in the morning. It's been years now and the little dog is now a big fluffy good boy named Pon Pon. The second biggest chunk of Prosciutto's paycheck is for this dog; I'm talking grooming services with paw-ticures, an all-organic raw diet, the nicest beds that even a human would wish they can sleep on. Pon Pon is properly trained with all the basics and tricks, because Prosciutto doesn't want to deal with a misbehaving dog, but it will use puppy eyes against the old man now and then. He give you the best smiles if you call him a good boy and if you glance at the right time you can see Prosciutto smile for a brief moment. Had he lived longer, he would have made Pon Pon famous on Facebook like Boo the Dog. Prosciutto will also not admit that this dog has helped him get laid a few times, because every person he did bring home always got a kick out of Pon Pon.

Ghiaccio has a pet snake- an albino ball python named Bianco. Ghiaccio was also on the “pets are unnecessary” train too but mainly because he can't stand loud pets (i.e. Illuso and Sorbet and Gelato’s pets). When Risotto suggested he get a snake, Ghiaccio looked into it, researching and meticulously setting up the proper enclosure and found himself going to a local reptile expo to find Bianco for sale. He’s fascinated by his snake to say the least, and would use leftover containers or Tupperware for Bianco to spend more money on proper equipment or food. Ghiaccio is really involved in online reptile forums and frequently debates with people on topics such as the best substrates to use, whether live rodents are better than frozen, ethics of breeding certain species, etc. He often gets worried when Bianco becomes picky and Ghiaccio would spend sleepless nights trying to get his baby to eat. Ghiaccio would walk around with his ball python wrapped around his neck or lets him slither around in his room under supervision but he mostly leaves him alone in the enclosure. There are times where he would claim he has the best, smartest pet and everyone just rolls their eyes like “yes the white fettuccine that got stuck in a toilet paper roll an hour ago is so smart”. But they let him rant about it. It’s kind of cute to say the least.

Pesci is the definition of people whose entire LIVELIHOOD is making his room into an aquarium. His room is full of strictly maintained, cleaned, and decorated tanks full of various types of aquatic animals. I’m talking Dwarf Puffers (Antonio, Portia, Jessica, Bassiano, and Solanio), Albino Gold Axolotls (Moe, Larry, and Curly), Red Ear Sliders (Franco and Ciccio), Clown Fishes (Browser, Mario, Toadstool, and Koopa), Brazilian Sea Horses (Tom and Jerry), a Blue Betta Fish named Valentina in a 30+ gallon aquaponics tank that grows a variety of plants each season- to name a few. He rebuilt his entire room to keep everything running and even had Melone help him set up timers for lighting and temperature control. Pesci will cry if you somehow made the pH level off by 1 or did not care for his animals properly when he’s away. He’ll even lecture you about bad tank setup. He's a prominent member of the aquarium community in Italy and will regularly redecorate each tank to suit the year and mood. This is where he’s spending his cut on the 20 million lira job: caring for his mini aquarium room. He occasionally gives away his pets’ offsprings for extra money (he doesn’t breed but sometimes he ends up having a ton of baby animals he can’t take care of) and would have been a YouTuber for his fish content. Now that I think about it, Pesci reminds me of my mutual @nexter2nd. Please go follow them.

Melone has a Holland Lop bunny and you cannot change my mind. He actually had a pet bunny growing up, another Holland Lop named Echo and Grep, and his current one is named Sudo; all three are named after UNIX commands. He has a large dog crate he diy-ed to be a roomy enclosure in his room for her that he cleans frequently but also allows Sudo free reign of the room when she wants to go out. Because of his job, he makes sure all his wires are covered so his bunny isn't tempted to chew them and watches his bunny diligently whenever she roams around. Easter time is when the denim jacket, pastel bows, and flower crowns come out and Melone makes sure to take a lot of photos. He also housetrained his bunny and taught her a few tricks, similar to how he trained Echo and Grep years ago. Sudo is spoiled in terms of getting a lot of pets, new toys, and feasts on the finest veggies and delicious hay. Melone also makes sure the first thing he teaches his Juniors is to not harm the bunny. Surprisingly, he's against breeding Sudo and has her neutered. This is mainly because he doesn't have the time to breed and raise more bunnies but also he hates the idea of selling the grown bunnies off afterward.

You know that Formaggio has a cat: the little Russian Blue cat named Sweetie Baby. Sweetie Baby was a kitten that he found outside his home. The little thing was the sole survivor of its litter and nearly starving to death, so he took her in thinking he will bring her to the shelter when she recovers; that cat now lets him live in HER apartment rent-free. Despite feeding her cheap dry food and constantly shoving her into bottles, he treats her like a queen otherwise. He will dress her up in little outfits (much to her annoyance) and often would be too aggressively affectionate towards her. Still, there are moments where she would cuddle with him during the later nights and allow him to put on one iced-out bow he just spent a quarter of his paycheck on. Walking to his apartment and even the backdoor of La Squadra’s HQ means carefully walking through the stray cats mewling at your feet, because Formaggio will feed any cat he sees. Initially, Risotto wanted the cats gone, but then he finds out the cats doubled as security when he watched some robber attempting to break in but getting their eyes scratched off instead.

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

Text

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

“Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

Like right now.

“I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

“Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

“I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

“I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

“What do you want?”

Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

“I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

“Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

“He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

“And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

“Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

“You owe me, toy man.”

“Put it on my tab.”

Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

“Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

“Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

“Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact childe #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact tartaglia #reader #reader insert #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin impact tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years ago

Text

Sam Winchester: Disney

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Sam W. x Reader

Pov: Sams

Warnings: fluffy!Sam, The reader having an addiction to Disney movies, movie night, Sam quoting Disney movies, ( I think it's like one word) swearing, quick interaction with Dean.

Summary: Movie night rolls around and this time it's just Sam and Y/n. Letting Y/n choose pretty much just turns into them watching Disney movies. And maybe Sam knows a few quotes from each movie.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is for band--pyschos 1.5 followers Bingo Challenge. I'm so excited o be a part of this writing challenge.

Square- Movie Quote

Masterlist

Sams Masterlist

Taglist: @band--psycho @sweetdetectivequeen

If you keep sliding on the floor with those damn socks on, you're going to land on your ass, Y/n" I finally said after watching her pass by the library at least ten times within five minutes.

Y/n huffed and crossed her arms dramatically, but stopped. Standing there for a few moments, before once she thought that I wasn't paying attention she continued.

"Shit" I heard Y/n in a rather loud voice. So, I got up from my library seat, closing the lore book I was reading through. "Did you fall?" I asked as I rounded the corner.

Seeing Y/n sitting on her ass. She looked up at me, doing the thing I taught her. "No, No puppy eyes. I told you. I told you that you were going to fall on your ass." I said putting my hand out.

In moments like this, I noticed how much bigger my hand was compared to Y/n. She gripped my hand and I lifted her up from the floor. "Hey, you two, y'all okay?" Dean asked passing by the two of us in the hallway.

I knew he was going out; it was Saturday night and we were home at the bunker. "Yeah, we're fine. I was just sliding on the floor with my socks." Y/n said patting down her sweatshirt that used to be mine.

"That must have been the 'oh shit' I heard. We should totally do that, I'm heading out." Dean said. "Don't have too much fun," I said interlocking Y/n and I's fingers together.

Dean skipped up the bunker stairs and was gone within minutes.

"Babe, can we do something fun?" Y/n asked dragging me into the kitchen. I let her drag me into the kitchen before answering her question.

"I guess so since you've dragged me into the kitchen," I said, not letting go of Y/ns soft and small hands clasped around mine. "Well since we are in the kitchen, can we get some snacks together?" She asked.

Y/n had the tendency to always ask before doing anything around the bunker. It sometimes made me feel as if she was my student in school, and I was her jailer of a teacher.

"Y/n, honey you don't have to ask me every time you want to do something. This is your home, your home to do as you please, get snacks as you please. You aren't a student here and I am most defiantly not your teacher." I said, wrapping Y/n in a hug from behind.

"I know, but still I don't like the idea of just doing without asking," Y/n said leaning her head back up against my shoulder. We stood like this for a while, in the presence of each other was nice, it was always nice to just be together.

Nothing trying to get in the way, no Dean trying to tease me, no monster ruining dates, anniversary, or having to hunt monster worried about each other safety.

This was the most normal we could get. The most normal we would ever have. "So what are the snacks for?" I asked Y/n as she started to release herself from the embrace we had.

"I thought that maybe we could have a movie night since Dean is out," Y/n said rummaging through the cabinets and through the fridge. Her shorter stature giving her a problem as she tried to reach things on the higher shelves.

"Do you want some help? Also, what are you looking for?" I asked coming closer to hear what she had to say. "MMMH," She said, her face pensive and thoughtful about what she was going to say.

"I was trying to grab some popcorn for me, and some more healthy choices for you, but as you can see, I've failed miserably." Y/n said shrugging her shoulders.

Taking a moment to get an idea of the hand situation at hand. “You haven’t failed, and if I’m honest with you dear, I'm in the mood to snack on junk food and be lazy.” I spoke. Grabbing junk like food off of the shelves and from the fridge.

I’m rather glad that just a few days ago we needed to go shopping because Dean tends to pick up the junky food and tends to forget he has such an abundance at the bunker. Throwing a pint of ice cream on to the kitchen island, gently placing a twelve-ounce bottle of soda-pop, Y/n had already put out the over flow of candy that we had, so all that was left was really just making the popcorn.

“Movie night is going to be hella fun!” Y/n said dancing around the kitchen, as I looked for a clean useable big bowl for the popcorn. I think she noticed my struggle because she stopped dancing and come over to me. Taking the popcorn out of my hands.

“Just nuke the popcorn’ she said placing the popcorn bag into the microwave and pressing popcorn, ‘see now you can go look for your bowl” She said finishing her sentence and backing away to let me continue trying to look for a bowl.

Once that entire process was done, we migrated towards the Dean cave which had just turned into a living room slash movie room at this point. Not that either one of us would ever tell Dean that what it’s used for now.

We ended up having to make multiple trips back to the kitchen since we honestly did have a shit ton of food. But once we finally had all our food and snacks placed out in front of us, we sat down, well it was more like we sank down into the couch.

Dean was a rather lazy person and didn’t like to spend money which never made much sense to me seeing as we used fake credit cards, or the very bold answer which was credit fraud. We could have totally gone out and bought a brand-new couch, but instead Dean just saw this one and decided on the side of the road that he had to have it.

So, like I said we almost every time sink into the couch.

“Since it was your idea for a movie night, I’m giving you the honors of picking the first movie we watch!” I said handing her the remote that I had just fished form between the seat moments ago.

“Aww, you’re so sweet baby.” Y/n said kissing my cheek before she went on and searched through Netflix. After only a short time, I heard a frustrated groan come from Y/n. After being with Y/n for as long as I have, I’ve noticed different groans, and huffs have completely different meanings.

The groan thought meant that she was about to give up, frustration taking over her mind and her body. “Honey, is everything okay?” I asked deciding best to intervene before the remote ended up stuck in the TV screen. My girl has one hell of a throw.

“No nothing is fine!” She said huffing rather louder. “Give me the remote and tell me what you want to find.” I suggested. Plopping the remote into my lap Y/n crossed her arms and leaned in to the back of the couch.

“Baby you gotta tell me what I’m looking for, or should I already know?” I asked. I feel like I was poking a bear, or maybe a balloon just waiting her to explode. But she never did, I could hear her taking a deep breath in and then exhaling. “You know me enough to know that you let me choose, so Disney movies and I’m sorry for getting so upset so quickly.” Y/n said fidgeting with her finger nails.

“It’s okay love. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Now let’s see about watching some Disney movies.” I spoke.

I ended up having to go to Disney plus which held all of Disney's movies. “I’m figuring you want to watch their princess collection first, right?” I said, I received a hum in response.

Watching the movies in order for Y/n was the most important thing, so we started off with Snow white and the seven dwarfs. Watching through Y/n sang almost every song, and would sometimes nudge me to join in. I’d deny and she give me her doe eyes and I'd join regardless. Once the movie was over, I clicked around trying to find the next movie.

“Lips red as the rose, Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow.” I repeated as I looked around for the movie CInderella. I was interrupted before being able to click on the movie title. “Hey, that’s the phrase that the mirror says the queen. How do you remember that?” Y/n asked.

I honestly think she was totally surprised. “Because in a way it reminds me of you.” I said winking and clicked on the title of the movie. Cinderella played through, I had to pause a few times letting Y/n tell me when she was a young girl how much she wanted to be a princess but not just any princess she wanted to be Cinderella, and how her parents had bought her Cinderella dresses and she wear the plastic glass slippers and clink around her house.

Somethings you just always forget. Somethings like that are worth forgetting though, just so she can retell the same story and have the same cute and exciting look on her face. That was why I was okay with sitting down and watching Disney movies with her, because they made her so extremely happy and that’s all I needed to be happy.

We watched through that movies. “On the stoke of twelve, the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before.” I spoke. “Who said it though?” Y/n said questioning me. “Cinderellas fairy godmother!” I spoke.

I hadn’t realized how much this was now turning in to a game between Y/n and I. The next movie in our now marathon was sleepy beauty, so far, I had quoted every movie at the end.

So, this time Y/n was ready for it, “Now father, you’re living in the past, this is the 14th century.” I said a little laughed came out. “Oh, come on, there are so many better ones to choose from!” Y/n said dramatic.

“Yeah, like which ones? "I said, knowing Y/n knew a lot more about Disney movies then I did. “I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, Make it pink, Oh dear, what an awkward situation. And that to name a few.” Y/n said totally sassy me, but whatever. This was her guilty pleasure. There was no reason to tease her about it.

We watched through ariel, I only stopped the movie once since Y/n said she need a peep break and I most defiantly needed a good stretch. When she came back, I said “Don’t underestimate the importance of body language!” I said as I shimmied my hands down my sides and winked at her as Y/n sat down on to the couch.

“Haha, very funny. Come on now. Sit with me.” She said giving me grabby hands. I sat down and we continued our watch through, unfortunately we only made it another two movies seeing as Y/n had fallen asleep with her head in my lap and a blanket covering the rest of her body.

Beauty and the Beast was the second to last movie we watched before Y/n fell asleep, she had cuddled closer and reminded me that she sometimes thought of this movie when she saw us together. “Take it with you so you’ll always have a way to look back... and remember me”

She cuddled in closer as I quoted that and looked for the next movie. Yawning I asked Y/n “Do you want to stop? We can always pick up tomorrow.” I said She shook her head and said “Please continue.”

Looking for the next movie, I found that was a musical now about the movie, Aladdin was the next movie, this was an upbeat movie. I remember vaguely seeing this as a young boy, something that Dean had taken me to do, while he sat in the back making out with whatever girl he was with at that point.

“Y/n, I do love you, but I gotta stop pretending to be something I’m not.” I said kissing Y/n temple and shutting off the tv, and the lights before grabbing the underneath of Y/n knees and carrying her to bed.

Compelted on: 04/15/2021

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

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.eps (cut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: this version of the epilogue is the 'clean cut' - there's a good chunk of it missing but it's not particularly important to the story. if you want to read the EXPLICIT version, there should be another one uploaded at the same time. (sorry, this is scheduled so i don't have the link yet lol)

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

You stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walk into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Placing the body into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale. Off to the woods, where you buried your first love. In a town where not everyone who dies leaves.

The drive to and from the place was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and go straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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pretoriafics · 4 years ago

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Russian Roulette - Pt. 4

In this series, you will find: Alternative Universe, Soulmate plot, Angst, Fluff. In this chapter, you will find: Things finally make sense, and now you can fight. Word count: 2.069 Pairings: Reader x Platonic! Scott and Stiles Original characters of this chapter: Haytham, your brand new mentor. Warnings: English is not my main language <3 Yeah, it was based on Russian Roulette by Rihanna Russian Roulette series: Chapter Three | Chapter Five RUSSIAN ROULETTE MASTERLIST TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

It wasn't hard to find the address the lady wrote you. That address took you to the limits of Beacon Hills, in a lonely and old church on the top of a hill. The wooden doors were open, so you came in.

"Hello? Mr. Haytham Conwell?"

You aren't seeing anybody. Actually, the church was pretty silent. Maybe you came to the wrong place...

"I've never seen you here."

You turn and see an old man, with an eyeglass on his face. He seems so confused as you.

"Oh, hi, good morning!" You give him a smile "I'm (Y/N). Do you know where I can find Mr. Haytham Conwell?"

"I am Haytham Conwell, lady. What do you need in the lord's house?"

Oh, you found him!

"Someone told me you can help me to find answers."

"What kind of answers?"

"A few friends of mine were hiding a secret, but now..." You let out a long sigh "I think this secret is worse than I thought. I mean, maybe you'll think I'm insane and-"

"Who sent you here?"

His expression became darker and, despite thinking about how an old priest could help you, you tell him the story about the ginger woman at the restaurant. Haytham's eyes become wider, scared.

"Show me your arms." He said, commanding.

You look at him, completely confused. What does he want to see in your arms?

"What?"

"Now!"

It was your turn to widen your eyes. You take off your jacket and show your empty arms for him. Haytham narrowed his eyes. To see your arms wasn't enough for him.

"Follow me." He ordered.

Without saying any word more, you'd followed him through the spiral stairs, going upstairs. He pulls an old key from his pocket and opened an old wooden door, revealing a huge library. Haytham points to a mirror that was close to a few tables.

"Go there, to the mirror. I need to see your back."

You blink your eyes repeatedly, without understanding why he needs all of this. Well, considering that a lot of things you don't understand have been happening, you had just obeyed him. You stopped in front of the mirror and Haytham stopped close to you, pulling your shirt a little up.

"Ha! I knew it the moment I saw you! The Devil's Mark!"

Your eyes go to the mirror.

"Oh my God. I haven't seen it before."

It was red lines through your spine, just like someone had slid nails on your skin. However, that lines were forming a quote. Haytham read it.

"Ad Lunae Lumina!"

You pull your shirt down, scared.

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'In the Moonlight', in Latin. Selene let a mark on you. More will be appearing with the time. Your mark is still being created. When it finishes, it will be like this."

Haytham pulls his shirt up and shows you his mark. However, his marks were different: Instead of red lines, he had black lines - just like a tattoo, with the same quote as you.

You sat on the chair close to you. What the hell?!

"What are all of this? I can't understand!"

He pulls his shirt down and sits in the chair in front of you.

"One step at the time, child. I think you should learn the basics first. The ginger woman was the only strange thing you saw?"

You denied with a shake of your head and begun to tell about the things that happened on the night of the party. He hit the table, making you jump in the chair.

"Werewolves!"

"I thought werewolves were just Hollywood things."

"No, they're not. Stay away from that friend of yours, stay away from Derek. They are Devil servants. I know it, I've been fighting against these creatures my entire life."

"But they saved my life!"

"They just want to kill you themselves! Never, ever, believe them. Come on, I'll show you something."

He got up from the chair and begun to walk between the bookshelves while you were following him. Haytham stopped in front of a huge bookshelf. He pulls a book, and both bookshelves open like a door. You'd never thought things like that would be in a church.

"Wow."

When the secret door was open, you saw an entire gun arsenal. Guns, grenades... Haytham has even swords! He looks at you.

"I'll give you a few books. You'll come here every day. I'll teach you to defend yourself and things you need to know about werewolves. Do you know how to shoot with a gun?"

"...No."

Haytham took a dagger and gave it to you. Then, he took a small gun.

"I gave you a silver dagger. Silver can harm them. This gun has silver bullets. Come on, I'll teach you to shoot."

"He's outside, and he wants to kill us!"

Scott wasn't sure about what else he could create to hide the fact that he, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and Stiles were trapped in a school with a crazy Alpha. So, he lied and told that Derek was trying to kill all of them.

Desperate dominated the entire classroom they were trapped in.

"I'll call the police." Said Lydia, taking her phone.

"No!"

Stiles went in her direction, but Jackson held him. Suddenly, someone knocks on the door.

"Scott, I'd heard your voice. Open it! I'd received your message, what the hell is happening?"

Damn, it was you! Scott's heart almost stopped while he runs to the door to open for you. He pulls you inside of the room and closes the door.

"I- Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Keeping you safe!"

"Safe of what?"

"I didn't send you that message."

"...Oh. We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"Fortunately, I'd brought my gun."

"Your- what?!"

You take the gun you earned from Haytham.

"My gun."

Stiles widened his eyes, while Allison let out a long sigh of relief.

"Thank god!"

Stiles comes close to you and Scott.

"Where did you got this gun? It's from Sebastian?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not." You gave them a smile "Who's trying to kill us?"

"Derek." You heard Jackson say.

You looked to Stiles and Scott. You have been visiting Haytham since last week, so you had learned a few things. You know, now, that there's some Alpha killing people in the city - the same who had tried to kill you. Considering that Scott and Stiles were there, and considering that you saw Derek's car outside, all you can conclude that was the Alpha was in the school.

"We thought that maybe we could get out of here through the ladder." You heard Allison say, pointing to the door close to you. Then, Lydia completed the info:

"But it's locked. We need the keys."

You cross your arms.

"Do you guys know where the keys are?"

"I know." You heard Scott say.

"Okay, here's the plan: You, you, you, and you," You said, pointing your finger to Stiles, Jackson, Lydia, and Allison "You stay here because we need to be discreet. Scott go take the keys and I'll cover him."

Allison got a step forward.

"No, he can't. It's too dangerous!"

Scott goes to Allison, trying to calm her down while Stiles goes talk to you.

"(Y/N) let Scott take the keys alone. You don't know what are you dealing with, you don't understand."

"Yeah Stiles, I know about what I'm dealing with. It isn't Derek."

Stiles looks at you, with his face becoming pale. Scott, with a completely terrified Allison in his arms, looks at you with the same amazement. That moment, they realized you found out the truth you were looking for. Then, you look for everyone.

"Someone should call the police. It will make him run."

Yeah, it could make sense. The Alpha wouldn't do anything with a lot of humans around. It could attract too much attention and too many hunters.

Lydia took her phone and begun to call someone. You opened the door and walk to the corridor, loading your gun with some bullets. Scott came and closes the door, and now you were completely alone with him.

"How did you found out about everything? It was from that day in the woods?" He asked, curious, while you were walking with him.

"Yeah, kind of. I met a guy who taught me a few things. He thinks you're a killer or something, but I disagree with him. You saved my life. I owe you one, puppy." You said, giving him a sweet smile. He smiles at you too. "Who's your Alpha?"

"It's complicated..."

"Oh. Got it. Where Are the keys?"

"I think it's here." Scott opens the door to the gymnasium and points his finger to the stands. "I'll take the keys. Wait here. Shout if you need something."

"If I need protection I'll shoot." You smiled at him. "Don't worry about me."

Scott goes to take the keys under the stands while you watch the environment around you, with your gun in your hands. A few seconds later, full of tension, you heard Scott.

"Found it!"

"Okay, come back, and let's get the hell outta here."

Suddenly, the stands began to close. Your heart almost stopped, while you look around, looking for something that could help Scott.

"Scott, hurry!!"

You saw Scott run in your direction, trying to escape being smashed by the stands. You gave him your hand and when he finally holds it, you pull him. Both of you fell on the floor, and the stands close.

"Damn!" You said, putting yourself on foot "You okay?"

"Yeah, you okay?"

"Yeah." You let out a long sigh "Let's go."

You and Scott began to walk in the classroom direction but, then, you saw the Alpha. It was on four paws, roaring for both of you. You took your gun up, ready to shoot, but Scott put his hand on your arm.

"Take the keys and go."

"No, I'll not leave you."

"You haven't a chance against him, you'll die!"

"But I have special bullets and some tricks."

"(Y/N), please, there's no time to be stubborn!"

The Alpha got a few steps forward and let out a roar. Scott fell on the floor, yelling in pain. He was in mutation. Damn. But you had an idea.

"Hey, moron!" You yelled in the Alpha's direction. You pull the trigger, shooting against it. He deflects of the shoot, stop roaring. Scott stopped to yell and seems like he's still under control. "This is for my lost high heels!"

You shoot again, and you hit it that time. The bullet got into the leg of the Alpha, and he let out a roar for you, in angry.

"Yeah, you know you're in trouble." You said, with your eyes narrowed. "Do you want more wolfsbane bullets? I have a lot of them to you."

Then, you shoot again, and surprisingly the Alpha back off. Scott stands up, with a heavy breath, and you shoot against the Alpha again. You shoot one, two, three times. It deflects again, letting out a low roar, looking at you. It was a warning, and you knew it.

"You know you have a problem bigger than Scott, don't you? That bullet will kill you."

Yeah, the Alpha knew about it. In a way to save itself from death, the Alpha turns itself and runs out of school. The battle has ended that day, but the war wasn't even close to being won.

"You okay, Scott?"

He was breathing heavily, but he nodded positively.

"Stay here." You said, unsure about how under control Scott was "I'll go to the classroom. Just try to stay calm. You can't lose control, okay?"

Scott nodded again, trying to stay calm. Then, you walked into the classroom's direction and opened the door. Everyone's was looking at you, scared. Allison was the first one to talk.

"Where's Scott?"

"He's fine but nervous. He needs some minutes to breathe. It's okay, guys. We can go now."

All of you heard the police coming. Relieved, everyone got out of the school quickly and terrified. While you were looking for the boys running out of school, again, you remembered the words of that ginger woman.

This truth will change your life forever, and your life will become a truly Russian roulette, girl.

Yeah, you felt a taste of it. But you know what? You kinda like this action.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fanfic #scott mccall x you #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall imagines #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall x y/n #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale fanfic #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n

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