#like it actually is insane that you could focus your entire being on someone and reach them across all of time and space out of sheer want? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

everythingmp3 · 5 months ago

Text

my angel, my sin

adult!Van x fem!reader

after nearly three decades of being together, Van has accepted that things aren’t going to change for her and Tai, resigned to the fact that there is no point in fighting their doomed fate. that is until she meets you.

authors note: I did something a little different with this one bc I wanted to explore a taivan fail marriage (love them both but they would be insane as wives) and what might happen if someone else entered the picture, so there’s a good amount of plot. also I’ll be real, I was kinda into the idea of pillow princess Van while writing this, so yeah. I really hope you like it <3

warnings: minors dni. infidelity, smut (oral, reader giving)

word count: 10k

there is safety in a cage. there is safety in being locked in, being constrained and unfree in your movement, there is a convenient lack of choice and no need for bravery when you submit to your circumstances, when you let the days pass you by without changing a single thing, without breaking out of what is known to you, without ever fighting for more.

something along those lines was a way of explaining why Tai and Van had stayed together for over 25 years, even when they were close to going insane together.

after getting rescued and eventually starting college, there had been numerous discussions about breaking up, about moving on, they had tried “taking a break” but it was only a matter of weeks until they got back together, slightly ashamed of their inability to live as “Tai” and “Van” instead of “Tai and Van”. it was physical, the terror they felt when they were separated, they had spent about 19 months attached at the hip, literally tied together in their sleep, so once they were free to be out in the world on their own, free to explore their desires and fantasies, everything in them told them that it was too dangerous, to sever the bond that had kept them alive out there. their relationship had been a central part of their survival, so it would have required a strength that neither of them possessed at the time: to brave through both severe and ptsd and the deep pain that their separation would have come with.

the first few years were fine, good even, they were long-distance during college, which gave them a decent amount of independence, it made it easy to avoid fights, to focus on the beautiful parts of their relationship, but once they both graduated, there was no reason not to move in together, so they did, quickly aware of just how different their ideas of a good life were, making compromises left and right that always left a bitter taste, that made them wish they could have just had the guts to go out and find new partners, ones that they could actually see eye to eye with. they married in their early thirties, once everyone around them started doing it, because not getting married would have been an admission, it would have signaled that there was a part of them that was not entirely enthusiastic about the word “forever” and if Tai and Van were one thing, it was stubborn, so they tied the knot, a fucked up irony to that symbol that did not escape them.

their stubbornness was apparent in the shared refusal to show weakness, to admit that they were unsatisfied, to throw the towel and say “I can´t do this anymore, I´m leaving”, to just be honest with each other and say it: that they were tired and needed more from life, from love, from everything. neither of them were to blame and both of them were, so naturally, they ran in circles during every single argument, never reaching any kind of resolution.

their deep codependency and complete lack of identity outside of their union made it so that they powered through many years of marriage without giving into the idea of “maybe, just maybe, we could try being friends while we figure out who were are on our own?”. it sounded so simple in theory but it was anything but that in practice, the plain truth of it was that they were scared, even at that age, even thought over ten years had passed, there was still that deep fear that struck them at their core whenever they imagined living on their own and the thing that made it even worse was that nobody understood their unique situation because no other married couple had the baggage of having lived through horrors in the woods together as teenage girls. nobody else could have given them advice that they´d considered helpful because nobody was able to understand just how riddled with hyper-complex feelings their relationship was. there was no example for them to follow, no couple to ask for guidance, so over time, they truly felt like they were stuck with each other in a sphere that nobody else could reach, not unlike some of the feelings they’d had in the woods, and it made a nasty resentment fester in each of them, that feeling of entrapment, of seeing no way out. it wore them out, the constant awareness that true loving companionship was not supposed to feel like bone-crushing work.

they did have their good moments, even amidst all the chaos, even twenty years in, every once in a while they spent a Sunday morning having a late breakfast, joking around laughing the way exact way they had when they were girls, sometimes they still watched films together and made snarky comments all the way through, every once in a while they found themselves in the dark, reaching for each other, not talking about it the next day, the way they´d clung to each other in the night, the way they´d monetarily slipped back into the familiar rhythm of their intimacy. still, over the years those moments had gotten less and less frequent. once they reached 40, they thought it might be time to be mature about it and try couple´s therapy, but one awful session was enough for them to vow to never return, leaving their therapist with a migraine and themselves with even more frustration to swallow.

at that point in their life they were tired of fighting, they were tired of the drama and tired of the mess, so they fell into a routine, one where they were cordial with each other, one that was closer to a roommate situation than a marriage situation. sometimes a routine like that works so well, so neatly, so perfectly, that it eventually leads to a quiet death of the soul, unless there is a sudden shift, a rupture.

in Van´s case, you were that rupture.

during your first year of college, you´d gotten lucky enough to find a group of friends that were looking for a new roommate in a house that was situated in one of the nicer parts of town, a residential area that students usually couldn´t afford, one of them had family in real estate, so you took her up on the generous offer and moved in that fall.

you´d never been the type to to spend much time talking to neighbors, but once you were aware that you lived next to a married lesbian couple, your interest was piqued. your roomates told you that they mostly talked to Van because Tai was sort of a workaholic, something about politics, which meant that you weren´t surprised when you ran into Van on her own shortly after you moved in, an evening where you both happened to come home at the same time.

in your memory, those first few minutes of getting to know each other hadn´t been anything extraordinary. you told her what you were doing in college, she told you about her job, you exchanged a few basic facts about yourselves, nothing too exciting, but in her memory, that had already been the beginning of what was inevitably going to happen down the line. you hadn´t been aware of this but she´d had a rough day and the way you talked to her was different from the way other strangers usually did: you never broke eye contact, you gave her your full undivided attention even though you were just doing a bit of small-talk, a sweet smile and bright eyes as you listened to her, and to someone as lonely and starved for connection as Van was at that time, having someone´s full attention like that was nothing short of exhilarating. you left that interaction wanting to know much more about her, she seemed intriguing, slightly mysterious to you, something told you that there was a lot behind those eyes, and on a surface level, she was also strikingly attractive, so you found yourself hoping it wouldn´t stay at that brief encounter with her.

neither of you had the words for it at the time, but there was an instant feeling of familiarity between you during your initial few run-ins, an ease when you laughed about something that the other person said, an honesty to your exchange that felt refreshing, like you didn´t have to to polite chit-chat but could actually put your cards on the table and be real, which made it impossible not to seek each other out again.

Van worked from home a few days a week and you only had about 10 contact hours at uni, so naturally, you saw each other again and again the following weeks, each time a little too excited, a little too eager, a little too willing to brave through wind and weather just to stay outside and talk for a while longer. one time your roommate saw you standing there and asked you when you came in what you´d been discussing with her, and you couldn´t for the life of you summarize the amount of topics you´d quickly switched between, the natural flow of your exchange that reminded you of the way you talked with close friends.

without even realizing, your conversations turned from being a few minutes long into being fifteen minutes long, to half an hour of standing in the driveway and forgetting about the time, you chastising her for calling herself a film expert without ever having seen any of the cult classics released after the year 2000, telling her which ones to catch up on asap, which was a welcome excuse for her to start another conversation with you once she´d seen them and could tell you all of her thoughts. part of the appeal of talking to you was that you were so willing to spill details about your life to her: petty grievances you had with some of your professors, drama you´d overheard in the living room the night before, frustrating phone calls with your parents she could sympathize with as someone who’d had a fair amount of fights with her mother as a student. she loved having her mind taken off her own issues by listening to you, your funny way of putting certain things, your youthfulness, it brought out a humor in her that she´d thought of as long lost, and it charmed you, the fact that she was able to keep up, that she knew how to make you laugh, genuinely.

she knew that she was getting herself into trouble during those weeks, she knew it, whenever you sat down with her on their front porch for a moment, whenever she felt a sting of jealousy at the mention of a girl in your life, or caught a glimpse of you sunbathing in the garden from their bedroom window, she could feel it, something way too intense bubbling beneath the surface, a pull towards you that was getting harder and harder to fight back against.

you didn´t know this but there was one specific reason why she could not stop thinking about you, why she was haunted by all of your interactions: your way of toeing the line between a tone that could be interpreted as both friendly or flirty. you hit the mark right in the middle, every single time, you were subtle with your flirting, and it made her turn the things you said to her and how you said them over in her head many times, part of her thinking “don´t be so self-absorbed, she´s just being kind” another part of her thinking “don´t be so oblivious, she clearly has a thing for you”.

during those first weeks of knowing each other you never exchanged numbers, so it became a guessing game of sorts, when you´d see each other, when you´d talk again, and somehow, the unpredictable nature of your encounters made them more thrilling, made it easier to long for more whenever you went a whole week not seeing each other, and it made both of you painfully aware of how much more you wanted, how desperately you wished you could just invite each other over, but you knew how suspicious that would have looked, the married woman inviting the young neighbor over, to “hang out”. perhaps it wouldn´t have been that big of a deal, perhaps nobody would have thought twice about it, but your shared hesitation gave away that you both knew where things would lead if you were left alone in a room for too long.

one specific evening, the inevitable happened.

one of your roomates was out of town and the two others were out for dinner. around 9 pm you stepped outside for a moment to take out the trash and because you weren´t used to being the only person at home, you forgot to take your keys with you and the wind made the front door slam shut, leaving you locked out. you didn´t have your phone on you either, so you were left with two options: staying outside and sitting on the steps of the house until your roommates came back later that night, or asking a kind neighbor if they´d let you stay for an hour or so.

naturally, you chose the latter and there was an obvious answer as to which neighbor you would ask. it was a little calculated on your part because you knew that that was maybe your one chance of getting into their house with a clear excuse, a motif that hid your other, less innocent motif for wanting to be let into Van´s personal space. there was no way of turning you away in a situation like that, so once she opened the door and you told her about it, standing there in your loungewear, your face soft in the bit of remaining natural light, she knew she was playing with fire by telling you yes, but she couldn´t help it, it was too late, she´d have said yes to anything you wanted from her, she felt a sharp awareness of it as you walked inside and followed her to the living room, that there was nothing she would deny you if you just asked her for it, and deep down, beneath the part of her that said “no, don´t do it”, there was a much larger part that was glad that you´d come to her, that said “when was the last time you felt this alive? imagine what it would feel like, to give into her?”.

Van led you to the living room and told you to sit and get comfortable as she got you a drink from the open kitchen, connected to the large living space, where she´d already made herself one, throwing out the fact that Tai was out of town for a conference, which was why she was home alone. the relief you felt when she said that was way too strong, and you didn´t mask it well, she caught it in your gaze as she sat down next to you, your sudden air of giddiness. you kept a safe distance between each other, but not enough to be unaware of the palpable tension, a moment of silence as you both tried to act normal, tried to find a casual way to talk to each other, while feeling your hearts beating of your chests just from sitting there together.

thankfully, the initial awkwardness subsided within minutes, you quickly fell back into your dynamic, one that was built on humor but also trust, over the weeks you´d been something like confidants to each other, enjoying the kind of honesty that was made easy by the fact that your lives were completely separate, that you had no way of spilling each other’s secrets to someone that the other person knew. neither of you ever explicitly acknowledged it but it was clear that you were both lonely in your own ways and that your connection was a way to escape that feeling.

the atmosphere of the room was nice at that hour, a few candles burning, a dim light form an expensive looking lamp in the corner of the room, a peaceful silence, the kind of atmosphere that turns conversations more intimate and personal, so you found yourselves spilling more and more about your personal lives as you kept drinking and losing your filter, absentmindedly touching each other at times, a pat on the shoulder, a touch on the arm, a thrill each time, one that made you both want more, pushing the limit of how long you could rest your hand on the other person each time.

you´d picked up on it before, that Van hardly ever mentioned Tai, and that when she did, it was always with a slightly pained tone, “my wife” never said with much affection, so it wasn´t a secret, that they were not doing too well as a couple. that night Van told you a bit more, since she felt seen and heard by you and appreciated the fact that you never looked at her with pity, that you had a way of making off-hand jokes in the exact right moments to get her out of her spiraling thoughts.

from what she told you, you got the sense that neither of them were truly awful people to be with romantically, that neither of them were truly intentionally hurting the other, but that they´d just gotten tangled up in a mess that was so hard to get out of after all that time that staying in it was simply the less exhausting option. at one point that night she slipped up and straight up told you “she actually cheated on me. with someone at work for a few months last year. or maybe she lied and it’s still going on, I don´t fucking know”, that sudden confession smacked you across the face, so you just stared at her, uttering something like “oh.. I´m sorry” as she looked at you, a fragility to her expression as she continued, “and the worst thing was that I wasn´t even angry or shocked because it was so fucking obvious to me, that that would happen in our relationship eventually”, “infidelity?” you asked, which she nodded at, “yes. it was always going to happen, so in a way I didn´t even blame her because it felt so inevitable. sorry I shouldn´t be telling you all of this, I´ll stop”.

what you asked her next was intentional, it was not subtle at all and you knew it, but each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more eager to touch her, so you just said it, “have you ever considered t it? cheating on her too?”. she looked at you for what felt like ages, you held her gaze, moving a little closer instinctively, holding eye-contact. Van could have answered in many ways, and chose the single worst possible response, full, uncensored honesty: “I´m considering it right now.”, her voice unwavering, her gaze back where it had been drawn way too many times already that night: your lips.

the second you processed what she´d just said, your whole body burned up, your face flushed, your breathing quickened, it came crashing over you in full force, the rush of her confession, her want out in the open. there was nothing left to say, there was no other possible response you could have given her then but to move closer to her, waiting as she reached up and touched your cheek, her lips parted in anticipation, your faces barely inches apart, until you were the one to break the last barrier, your hand on her neck to pull her into a deep kiss.

the thing that was most telling about your need for each other was that you did not pull away and wait for a reaction, from the moment your lips touched you lost all shame and kept going and going, adjusting your positions on the couch, your leg over hers, half on her lap as you both grabbed each other, tearing at each other´s clothes, panting and sighing between kisses, desperate and needy, not dignified at all in the way you got all over each other, a sloppiness to your kissing that turned sexual very quickly, touching tongues and moaning into each other´s open mouths, trying to get some sort of friction from moving your legs apart so the other could push their knee in there, a violent release of all the tension that had built up before, about 15 minutes of making out and moving against each other like that until you eventually lost your breaths and pulled away, hot and red and completely out of it, smoothing down your hair and pulling your previously discarded shirts back on as you mumbled “sorry, I´m so sorry” at least five times, unsure how to possibly move on from what had just gone down. instead of trying to find words, trying to talk about it, you hastily suggested that you should probably leave her be, since your roomates should have probably been back by then, which she agreed to, still breathing heavy and as she saw you to the door.

before you went back to your house, you both stood there at the threshold, telling yourselves that it was just a moment of weakness, that it had gotten late and that you were drunk and that you could forget all about it, you reassured each other that it was a one-time thing, nothing to lose sleep over, but of course, it wouldn´t stay at that, you both knew while saying all those things that it was complete bullshit, that you´d barely drank two glasses and definitely did not feel sorry, and definitely did not want to forget about it.

after you left, she sat down on the staircase, head in her hands, trying to pretend that she felt guilty, trying to make herself feel bad, but only able to focus on the feeling the burn of her skin where you´d kissed her, clinging to it, the heavenly sensation of you being all hers.

the next day you woke up with an ache for her touch that you tried your best to ignore, busying yourself with cooking an elaborate dish, doing coursework, listening to music, cleaning up around the house, but by 5 pm you were done with your to-do list and had no plans to go out with friends, so you laid down and tried to take a nap because the time simply would not pass, minute after minute, dragged out by your excruciating desire to go over to her again, so around 6 pm you could not stand it anymore and accepted your culpability as you left your house to go over and follow your selfish instinct to have her again.

the moment Van opened the door, she smiled at you in a way that said “I knew this would happen”, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed as she looked you for a moment, taking in the sight of you before asking “locked yourself out again, hm?”, which made you smile too then, a shake of your head, a shared feeling of “what the fuck are we doing here.” as you stared at each other, unable to pretend that you felt anything but joy when she said “come in”.

the next few hours turned into a feverish haze of desire, you lost track of time entirely as you continued where you´d left off the night before, frantically undressing in the hallway before landing on the couch again, hands eagerly exploring the spots of your bodies that you hadn´t gotten to the night before.

that evening she became addicted to you, to a degree that was beyond what she´d expected, because you read her so well that she didn´t even have to muster up the courage to ask you for what she really wanted. a few minutes into making out and caressing each other, you moved down to her legs, and for a moment it seemed like a dream to her, too good to be true, that you were doing the exact thing she´d been dying for; each time she´d imagined being with you, she hadn´t imagined fucking you but being fucked by you. the one thing that got her to finish while masturbating those days was the thought of you between her thighs, but she had not expected that you were into it, her assumption was that most younger girls would probably want her to take charge and fuck them and she would´ve done it, gladly, but the fact that you were so eager to give, to please, your lips soft on her skin as you kissed your way down her body, it made her yours, entirely. that night you switched between making out, having sex, and talking for about 3 hours until you were spent and exhausted and laughed about how beyond help you were, how you could already see it playing out, your impending affair.

the thing that Van told you as you laid together, absentmindedly tracing the outline of each other´s exposed bodies, was that her and Tai did still have sex every once in a while, but only ever after fights. it was always an extension of their struggle for power, always rushed and aggressive, forcing orgasms out of each other so quickly that it hurt, that it felt more like a punishment than anything else, never an expression of love or of true desire, always a tool for dominance. so even though Van was not much of a top, over the years she´d started fucking Tai after particularly nasty fights, to regain the upper hand, and it always left her feeling horrible afterwards, ashamed and sad.

some people were really into hate sex but Van had never been one of them, to truly be satisfied during sex she needed it to be sensual and passionate, she was not the type for degrading or brutal stuff, sometimes a hint of it maybe, but most of the time what she truly wanted out of intimacy was to be lovingly opened up by someone, to be tended to and worshiped, to turn soft and vulnerable in someone's hands. she loved slow kissing during sex, she loved taking her time and finishing only a good while into it, and most of all she loved being eaten out. penetration was good in certain moments for her, she did enjoy it when you kept your tongue on her while adding pressure with your fingers, but nothing pleased her more than the simple act of getting head, preferably multiple times with breaks in between, which is what ended up happening most times you were over at their place. she´d stopped letting Tai do it for her because she quite literally did not want to open up for her like that, couldn´t bear the vulnerability of it, so with you, she rediscovered the side of her that she´d tried to ignore, her deep need to submit to someone sexually, to give up control and be pleased without worrying about being perceived as weak.

it was not that she did not enjoy pleasuring you too, sometimes when you seemed a little too satisfied with yourself after you´d made her cum twice in a row, she pushed you down and held you in place to finish you off too, sucking on your neck, on your tits while making you cum against her hand, proving to you that she was very much capable of also turning you into a whining mess, the way you usually turned her into one. sometimes you tried different things, one time she begged you to let her watch you jerk off which turned into her doing the same thing next to you, a few times you were both so in heat that you just rubbed up against each other in various ways, deeply pleased by the sight of the other person’s head falling back, the feeling of your hips moving in unison.

and yet, the one thing that made you both feel electrified the most was when you did what you´d done to her that first time you´d had sex: giving her head until she was too weak to speak, to do anything but lay there and submit to her bodies intense response to you.

the contrast was unbearably hot to you: her tough exterior, her nonchalant and stoic aura, that melted away in an instant each time you touched her, replaced by a sensitivity and softness that drove you crazy, that made you feel protective over her in some way. on your part it also had something to do with pride, there was no way of denying it, that you got a taste for it very quickly, the unique power you had over her, the knowledge that you and you alone were giving her what she really needed, the fact that she seemed to be physically incapable of staying away from you for more than a few days. you were addicted to it the same way she was, haunted by her moans and words of praise, the way she sighed your name, the way her legs felt smooth against your face, her taste, all of it.

it wasn´t just emotional for her, for you it was also shifting things, your collision. for a good while you´d felt like you were just floating around, going from place to place without being truly tethered to anyone or anything, friendships that were fun but never that deep, no truly fulfilling romantic encounters, so the feeling of being needed on a visceral level, being a central part of someone´s life, being physically indispensable, it gave you a sense of purpose. you knew that it might have sounded absurd to others, describing fucking someone else’s wife like that, but it was true, it was giving you something that you´d been lacking, that you´d been craving.

the affair had its own rhythm that you fell into those weeks after you first got together, there was no way you could sneak her over to your place, with at least one of your roommates always being home, so their house was the place to meet up, and Van was careless enough to invite you over whenever Tai was working late or out at some politicians dinner party, other people might have waited until their partner was out of town, to be 100% sure that they could not be caught, but Van was too desperate for you to wait that long in between, she told herself that she could always get dressed in a hurry if she randomly heard the front door unlocking while you were there, but lucky for the both of you, it never came to that.

about a month into it, you broke the news that you´d go on a seven day trip with your friends, which would mean that you´d be separated for way longer than you were used to, since those early days of the affair, you saw each other at least four times a week, sometimes more if you both happened to be home at the same time during the afternoon or on a day off.

you were both not thrilled about spending those days apart, but part of you also felt a sense of excitement over the fact that it meant that your need had time to grow, that your next time of seeing each other would be intense and even more desperate than usual.

Van realized when you told her just how lost she had gotten in her feelings for you because for a second she felt genuine terror at the thought of not seeing you for that long, you´d made her experience a sort of sexual renaissance, you´d woken her body up again; for years Van had suppressed her needs, which had mostly been drowned out by her depressive moods anyway, so it could not have been overstated, how life changing it was to finally be connected to her desires and her body again, to feel free in her expression of her sexuality, to be taken care of by you, since it was not just about the sex itself, it had slowly started bleeding into other areas of her life too, the feeling of autonomy, the feeling of vitality, something about your connection had brought her back to life, so she tried her best to keep her separation anxiety at bay.

after seven long days, most of which she´d spent working over-time or going outside as much as she could to try and remain somewhat sane, she finally got the text telling her that you were back home and would come over once you were done unpacking and eating dinner.

the moment she closed the door behind you later that night, you couldn´t even finish the sentence “you look good” because you immediately felt her hands on your face, her lips finding yours with a force that made you stumble back against the wall, bracing yourself as you smiled into the kiss and returned the energy, more than willing to save your words for later.

what you didn´t know was that she´d spent a better part of the week thinking about you, to a degree that was bordering on the obsessive, it was slowly but surely driving her mad; you showed up in her dreams, she woke up hot and frustrated more than once after feeling you close in her sleep, she regularly zoned out while trying to get work done, Tai had to repeat herself more around her because her mind was always with you, the way you looked at her, the way you ran your fingers through her hair while kissing, the feeling of your bare leg pressed against hers, her hand on your thigh when you got hot and heavy, your nails digging into her flesh as you held her in place, every little detail was burned into her mind and the constant flashbacks were killing her, so naturally, the moment you were finally in front of her again, it all came bubbling up, and you could tell from the way she kissed you: she was fucking starving.

after you both pulled away to catch some air she sighed, “jesus christ, you smell so fucking good”, while remaining barely an inch from your face. lucky for her, you´d gotten out oft the shower about fifteen minutes before coming over, so your skin was freshly lotioned, soft to the touch and and giving off a fresh scent that was sure to haunt her the coming days, she breathed in as deeply as possible, a shiver down her spine, a feverish adoration for you gnawing at her sanity as her hands wandered all over you.

“you´re not seeing anyone, are you?” she made sure, so you shook your head, wondering why she asked in that specific moment until you felt her eager lips on your neck and knew exactly why: she´d made sure that she could do whatever she wanted to you without worrying about marks or bruises, and you were happy in your passivity, pinned against the wall as you felt her tongue on the side of your neck, her teeth ever so lightly digging in, clearly lost in her need to taste you, to devour you, and if she hadn´t been careful she might have actually hurt you but you were glad to be wanted that violently, her hands rough under your shirt, on your chest, squeezing your tits hard enough to leave them shades of pink and red where her fingertips pressed down, drawing out increasingly loud sounds from you until she finally let go and faced you again, her lips swollen, her face flushed, an intensity to her gaze that was close to something animalistic as she kept feeling you up, making a satisfied humming sound, you smiled then as you placed your hands on her back.

“well you´re high energy, considering the hour”, she nodded, briefly wiping her mouth, “yeah, I just..”, she was beyond words, so you pulled her closer, your, tilting your head, a tenderness to your gaze as you asked, “should I help you relax? wind down a little?”. of course you knew that that was why she wanted you over, still, you liked hearing her say it, begging for it, “yes, please”. “you really missed me, hm?”, a smugness to your expression that got to her, she liked being being teased by you, it made her feel weak in a delicious way, “you have no fucking idea”, she uttered as she pulled you down the hallway, her hand firm around yours, almost ripping you forward because she was so impatient, leading you to the couch, your preferred place to hook up because fucking in their bed did seem a little too shameless, and besides, their couch was large and luxurious enough to feel like a bed anyway.

there was no need to pretend or waste time, so she pulled down her jeans and took her place, getting comfortable as you got down on your knees in front of her, moving between her legs and brushing your cheek against her inner thigh for a moment, looking up at her with innocent eyes, a docility to your demeanor that almost killed her then. she usually only took her pants off by herself because she liked the ritual of you ripping down her underwear, so you did, freeing her of it in one determined motion, placing your hands flat on her freckled thighs after, caressing them as you leaned forward, drawing it out to have her right where you wanted her.

Van seemed even more desperate than usual, you could tell from her heavy breathing, from the faint whimpering sound, that she´d been dying to have you back all week, that she´d probably tried and failed to be satisfied with touching herself to the memory of you, it was a little cruel of you to draw it out, you could hear her whispering a soft “please..” as she leaned back and waited, burning up from the sensation of your fingers trailing her skin, so you finally put her out of her misery and kissed your way up her thigh to where she needed you, a gasp of relief as you put your lips to her cunt and ran your tongue over the familiar sensation of her arousal, warm and slick, a broad stroke of your tongue, a humm of pleasure, savoring her taste before diving in, your hands firm on her thighs as you pulled her forward a little to have her right in your face, no worry about air flow as you buried yourself in her.

you´d gotten to know her body well enough by that point to have the exact rhythm and speed that she needed from you figured out, and you used it to your advantage, mercilessly, moving your tongue up and down between her folds in a sloppy intense manner that bordered on making out with her cunt, and it had her whining within seconds, her hands in your hair, roughly tugging at it as she praised “that´s it, baby, keep going”, she knew it was pretty shameless, to use pet names when you weren´t her “baby”, not her anything, but during sex she couldn´t help it, she was just too into you, and you didn´t mind, it felt good to be claimed like that, even just for a moment.

she struggled hard with keeping her legs still, so you held them in place as best as you could while feeling her rock against your mouth, your chin mouth glistening with her juices, drunk on the feeling of her slick heat against yours lips, the heavenly sensation of hearing her panting and moaning for more, her hips moving with the rhythm of your tongue, the brief vision of her head thrown back, her throat exposed, her glowing hair against her pale skin as you glanced up from below, you could feel yourself growing wet from it, the utter thrill of having her at your mercy like that.

Van eventually grew so erratic and dizzy with lust that she held onto your face, harder than usual, as she abandoned all shame as she pushed your head forward, grinding herself against you, using you in a way, which you submitted to in an instant, holding your tongue in place as she basically rode your face, brushing up against your nose with her clit in a way that made her lose her last bit of composure, her sounds closer to cries then as she felt the pleasurable ache at her core deepening and deepening each passing second, “you feel so fucking good”, she breathed, overcome with affection for you, your way of giving her exactly what she needed and more, your selflessness when it came to intimacy, when it came to her desires.

she could only keep up her aggressive claiming of your face for so long, after a few minutes of perverse, nearly pornographic sounds from both of you as you got lost in the aggressive heat, her hips became sore, a needy cry from her that signaled to you that you should take charge again, so you pushed her back into the couch cushion and slowed it down, urging her “breathe, I´ve got you” deep, intense strokes of your tongue, deliberate and sensual licks that were a sweet contrast to her messy, fast movements before, a satisfied sigh from her, followed by “god, don´t stop”, as you kept going, never letting up, never interrupting the flow of intense arousal that was filling her head to toe, a warmth that was unparalleled, burning through her heart, her soul, her whole being, submitting to you was her way of experiencing revelation.

you spent a good while like that, feeling her stroke your hair in encouragement as you let her get worked up to the point that she needed to get to, in order to really cum as hard she wanted to, so eventually, once you felt her growing restless, you did the final thing you knew would push her over the edge, your tongue focused solely on her most sensitive spot, flicking over it again and again as you forced her weak legs open to have enough space, suckling on her clit with a low hum of pleasure, which was the thing that made her feel that sudden violent wave of heat at her core, helpless mumbling and cursing under her breath as you drew out her orgasm, the shuddering kind, the kind that´s full body, all consuming and satisfying to a degree that no rushed jerking off could ever compete with, it was the thing that made her crave you, your touch, your mouth, the way you made her cum without rushing her or forcing it out of her, each time you went down on her she knew you´d let her take as long as she needed, you´d keep your face between her legs for hours if she wanted, so in that moment, she felt nothing but pure bliss as she finished against your mouth, her hips still jerking up in slower intervals as you let her ride it out, your lips still on her, leaving light kisses on the mess you´d made as she let go of your head, a barely audible “fuck..” as she went slack, a comfortable silence while you looked up at her, drinking in the sight of her all flushed and blissed out, her eyes shut, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling, a pat of her hand next to her on the couch, a signal for you to come up and join her.

once you got down next to her you moved closer and felt her reaching for your hand as she turned her face and smiled at you, slightly shy in the wake of her vocal climax, “I like when you get like that”, you mused, gently touching her arm, “oh really?”, she asked, a tired smile, eyeing you from the side, slowly coming back to her senses. “yeah. it´s hot when you hold me in place, use me”, she squeezed your hand then, grinning, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, “okay I see. I´ll keep that in mind” a pause before she added, “I really don´t deserve you, huh?” meaning it, she’d felt slightly guilty for unleashing her desperation onto you like that, and there you were, telling her it was a turn on. “you know, you should ride me face sometime. like actually sit on me”, that comment got a blush out of her, she shook her head and protested but deep down she knew she´d probably take you up on it, it made her feel a lingering heat at her core, to imagine you under her like that, your pretty face, all hers.

“god I don´t know what the fuck is going on with me..” she admitted, shaking her head, still high on endorphins, a sympathetic pat on her shoulder from you then, deeply pleased by your effect on her. “am I messing with your head?”, you joked, but she didn´t laugh, she just nodded, “you are, yes. I like you so much.” it came out more sincere than she intended, so you went quiet for a moment, letting the words settle, leaning your head against the cushion while staring at her, waiting for her to look at you, which she did, brushing a stand of hair out of your face, a gentle swipe of her thumb over your lower lip before leaning in and giving you a kiss, a tender one, unlike before, the kind of kiss where you just leave your lips pressed against together for a moment, followed up by a few minutes of soft, slow making out.

eventually, Van reached down to put on her underwear again before walking over to the kitchen behind you to get you both a glass of water, handing it to you once she sat back down and paid closer attention to you than before, looking right at you as she said, “I just realized I haven´t asked you a single fucking thing about your week yet, I´m a horrible host”, you smiled, “no worries, not much to tell anyway, it was just a nice getaway, no juicy stories”, she smiled, looking at you with unconcealed affection,“still, how are you, really?”. it was clear that she was actually interested, invested in your life, your state of mind. you thought about it as she drank up and put the glass down, her hands free to touch you again, resting on your legs as you spoke. “oh I´m good, just a bit tired from the flight, but other than that, I´m great right now”, emphasis on the last words to make it clear that it had to do with her, she nodded, “well, I feel kinda bad now, calling you over here when you´re already exhausted. you should probably be sleeping right now, hm?”, you shook your head, “oh no, I´ll take this over sleep, any time”.

Van glanced down for a moment and noticed the slight bruising on your knees, which had appeared because the floor right below the couch was not covered by carpet.“jesus I´m sorry..” she said, inspecting it closer, “oh no need to apologize, I don´t mind.” she gently traced the red skin, mostly out of concern, but deep down she was also satisfied by the sight, proof of your submission to her needs, deep down she´d always had a thing for women on their knees, something about worship, something about devotion, her hand wandered up your thigh eventually, her voice low as she said, “I do feel a little guilty sometimes though. you´re so sweet and I treat you.. well not the way you deserve. you should be out on a date or something” for a moment Van genuinely felt a sense of shame over her greed for you, the impact she was quite literally leaving on your body without being able to give you much more than a few nights a week, in secret.

“I´m not doing you a favor, Van. I wouldn´t keep coming back here if it didn´t give me what I need too”, she looked back up at you again,“it does?”, she knew of course that you were into her, but it wasn´t easy for her to believe that being of service to her was that pleasing to you. “yes, I´d be pretty devastated if this ended right now” you insisted. she moved her hand to your neck, her eyes trailing down to that space above your collarbone that she wanted to kiss again, “you know that that´s kind of hard to believe for me, right?”, you were amused by her inability to see just how deep your attraction to her was because to you it was so obvious, “well, not to be too forward but your body feels really good and you sound hot. and that´s more than enough to get me off”, she shook her head, “okay stop”, you liked seeing her flustered so you kept pushing it, leaning forward playing with her hair as you said, “I mean it. you´re very hot, you know that right?” a light shove from her then because she could feel her face turning red from your overt flirting, “alright, enough with the flattery, miss” but deep down she loved it, you could tell from her failed attempt to suppress a smile.

it had gotten late, it was nearing midnight, you were both getting sleepy and you´d come over in the clothes you´d wear to bed, so there was an obvious question on Van´s mind, a hesitant pause before she said, “listen. would it be really fucked up to ask you to sleep over tonight?”, she was aware that it might be out of line to ask you to sleep in the bed she usually shared with her wife, you eyed her, the way she was holding herself with slight self-consciousness, a soft smile as you said, “probably, yeah”, she nodded, “right, yeah, I thought so..” a slightly disappointed expression that you took as a compliment before you continued, “but. I can cope with doing messed up things. clearly” gesturing back and forth between you two, which made her laugh then, “okay, good. I mean, you can sleep on my side, if that makes it less weird”, you were tickled by that logic, “sure, let´s do that”, “come on then, I think you deserve to relax now”, she said, giving your thigh a light squeeze as she got up and motioned for you to follow her upstairs.

as you passed by the kitchen counter your eyes landed on an opened envelope near the edge, “Vanessa?” you said, which made her flinch and grab your wrist to pull you towards the hallway, away from the document, you laughed as she did this, amused by her dramatic reaction “so, that´s your real name?”, “obviously, yes. and just so you know, I fucking hate it.”, a pause before she added, “but I´ll admit, in your voice it actually doesn´t sound that horrible”, “careful, don´t be too sweet to me. Vanessa”, usually she´d have gotten pissed at someone for teasing her with her full name, but with you it was different, she could tell it was done lovingly, it also kind of turned her on but she´d unpack that another time, “no? why not?”, you looked back at her then as you went up the stairs, “don´t wanna make your side piece fall for you”, “side piece?? that´s awful, I don´t think of you as that”, she sounded scandalized, “I know, I´m just messing with you”, in that moment it hit her what you´d actually said before,“wait, what was that, repeat that for me”, her demeanor suddenly much lighter, but you just smiled at her, the glow on your face was enough for her to know that you had meant it, that you didn´t just see her as a casual fling.

the fact that it was pitch black outside by that point made it much easier to go into their room, it felt less intrusive than if you´d seen every little detail, besides, you were too tired to take a good look around anyway, so you went over to their bed and tried to get comfortable as you felt her getting in on the other side. you did have a brief moment of worry then as you realized what exactly it was that you were doing, where you were laying down, and it didn´t escape her. about a minute passed of you just laying there, quiet, not looking at her or moving to snuggle up to her, which amused her, the fact that you had no problem having sex with her but suddenly got shy in that moment, so eventually she turned to face you, a smile as she said, “you do know that you can touch me, right? considering what we just did, this should not be the thing to lose sleep over”, you moved your head to meet her eyes then.

“okay very funny. I just thought it might be weird for you, if it feels like I´m her or something…”, she shook her head,“we don´t get close under the covers anymore, so, you´re good”, that almost made you laugh then,“that´s a pretty depressing image”, “oh I know, that´s why you had such an easy time seducing me”, she drew out the last two words for dramatic effect and you knew she was joking but you decided to play into it, a prideful smile on your face as you moved closer to her, pressing yourself up against her side as you whispered, “right, I took full advantage of your loneliness, didn´t I?” your lips soft on the side of her neck, your hand under her shirt, a helpless sigh from her “hmm”, “I corrupted you, huh?” your fingertips trailing down her ribs, you loved feeling her weak and quiet from your effect on her, so you kept whispering to her between kisses, her eyes shut as she let you feel her up until she eventually grew too hot from it and pushed you away, gently. “okay, easy you´re gonna have to stop that, unless you´ll follow through”, you cocked your head, a playful sparkle to your eyes, “should I?”. Van shook her head, in slight disbelief over your willingness to go again, “I appreciate the energy, really, but let´s save it for tomorrow”.

she had a different urge then, one that came from a place of pure tenderness, the sight of you all soft and comfortable next to her made it impossible for her to leave any space between your bodies, “come on, turn around for me”, a nudge to your side that made you face away from her, so she could put her arm around you and pull you close, her face nuzzled against your back, breathing in that scent of yours she couldn´t get enough of, “good?”, she asked, squeezing you a little as you moved your legs against hers under the blanket. “yeah, this is nice”, you sighed, relaxing into it, a deep sense of safety in her embrace.

both of you instantly grew heavy, so you shut your eyes and drifted off, whispering “sleep well” to each other at the exact same time, which made you both laugh a quiet, almost girlish laugh. just before you fell asleep, you put your hand over hers, in that state of half consciousness it was easy to be romantic, it was easy to do what you really wanted to, so you fell asleep the way you would with a girlfriend, forgetting for a moment that she wasn´t, too lost in the utter peace you felt being there with her.

Van knew what some outsiders might have said about her relationship to you, “the lonely wife goes and fucks the hot young neighbor? how surprising.” something cynical like that, and she couldn´t deny that there was some truth to it, but as she felt your body warm against hers that night, she could not see anything nasty in your dynamic, it was impossible, because right then, the part of her that had remained a believer even during her darkest times came alive again; she was convinced that some higher power had made you cross paths. she did not believe in angels in a literal sense but she believed that people could play that part in the lives of others, often without even realizing, and that was how she saw you, as a kind of divine presence in her life that had come and ruptured the routine that was about to suffocate her, that she´d shut herself away in. Van knew that it might have come off as sanctimonious if she´d said it out loud, but she did not care, deep down, she truly felt like you were going to change things for the better, not just for her but for Tai too, because for the first time in ages Van felt a fragile sense of optimism looking forward, instead of the sheer dread she´d felt all the years before.

she realized then that felt stronger and more capable of trying to figure out how to move on from her marriage, not because she was going to use you as her distraction or emotional support, she was not selfish enough to make you shoulder that burden, but because you were a living breathing reminder that there was more out there, you were a reminder of the possibilities she would open herself up to if she just accepted the initial pain of breaking out of what was known to her. it hit her then, that her feeling of entrapment was not grounded in reality, she was not the young girl stuck in her mothers house anymore and she was also not the teenage girl stranded in the woods; during her developmental years she´d been so unfree and restricted in her movement that as an adult she´d been completely blind to the fact that she could do whatever the fuck she wanted, go wherever she pleased, it was not out of masochism that her and Tai had stayed together for that long, even when it hurt, it was because they were hardwired to accept horrible circumstances as inescapable, they were too good at submitting to pain, in a way it was almost impressive, just how long they could keep their heads above water in situations where others would have already drowned in despair.

the time she spent with you had shown her just how exhilarating and beautiful it could be, to finally allow herself to look beyond what she was familiar with and to let herself want things, to open herself up to the terrifying act of hoping for more.

in her deepest fantasies, she could see herself and Tai with new partners, as good friends, talking to each other with that shared humor that they´d lost during their years of marriage, which Van missed, Tai had been her best friend before they’d become lovers, after all. she could envision it perfectly, Tai teasing her about being into younger women, letting herself be bossed around by someone who wasn´t even alive when they were in high school, it didn´t seem impossible to her, it seemed within reach, which shocked her.

as the feeling of you presses against her chest slowed her heart rate, she remembered what it feels like, to be free of anxiety, fully at ease, relaxed to her core. in that moment, nothing was gnawing at her, no past pain could reach her, nothing could disrupt your shared peace, and you were blissfully unaware of it, the fact that she was close to tears right before sleep got a hold of her too.

the next morning you were unsure if you´d dreamed it up or if it had actually happened: her breath warm against your cheek in the middle of the night, a soft kiss, a whisper, “my angel”.

#it was fun to write something longer for her #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #van palmer

71 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 1 year ago

Note

Could I Request a yandere arkhamverse harley quinn concept? -🎂

Sure! Writing Harley Quinn could be fun :) This felt a bit everywhere but most of my fics are me just letting my thoughts flow without planning so I hope you enjoy ^^

Yandere! Arkham! Harley Quinn Concept

(Primarily Arkham Knight)

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Manipulation, Anger issues, Grief, Kidnapping, Drugging/Gassing, Breaking and entering, Forced companionship, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior.

Harley could work as a romantic or platonic.

Like... as a platonic she seems like she'd be really bubbly and act like a friend.

A psychotic friend but... somewhat of a friend.

As a romantic she'd be about as obsessive with you as she would be with Joker.

One thing that Arkham/Injustice Harley share with each other is their independence from Joker.

It's just that they deal with it differently.

Injustice Harley becomes a hero after the death of Joker.

While Arkham Harley commits to crime in the name of Joker.

This version of Harley actually gets more insane at the passing of Joker instead of better.

Harley would be a very dangerous yandere in general, but this universe may just make her worse.

Her obsession with someone new most likely starts sometime around Arkham Knight if she sees you in a romantic sense.

If she sees you in a platonic sense I imagine it could be whenever but for now I'll focus on Arkham Knight.

Harley is a yandere who feels she needs to be dependent on her darling.

If she sees you as a friend/ally then she sticks around you as she feels you'll ease her through her grief.

Which is strange as if anyone else tries to ease her grief she snaps at them.

Here's some backstory between you, up until Arkham Knight.

The friend route would make more sense if you "knew" her when Joker was alive.

Harley no doubt first had platonic feelings towards you, that's how her yandere traits would start due to her being with Joker.

She stalks you for a bit then breaks into your home.

She acts like you two are friends and is really bubbly and overly excited towards you.

While you barely know anything about the crazed woman who keeps breaking into your home, she feels she knows everything about you from just watching you.

No doubt spills about you towards the Joker.

She tells him she's found a new friend and that they simply must be involved with their plans.

Your "friendship" with Harley is very one-sided.

She somehow manages to find you and even drags you with her places.

At least once you've been a hostage for one of her and Joker's plans.

The entire time she's acting like it's a fun thing for you two to do.

"Mr. J said I could bring you to meet him~ I bet we'll have so much fun!"

You did not.

Despite your fear and forced compliance, she trusts you and soon you may even get used to being a target of her strange obsession.

Hell, maybe soon you convince her you'll be her "friend" if she just visits and doesn't pull you into any of Joker's plans.

She agrees... and never leaves you alone.

You and Joker are the ones she loves the most.

So when she loses Joker, her beloved, she only has one other person to cling to.

While you contact the police and Batman of Harley's obsession towards you, Harley realizes she needs the comfort of her beloved friend.

It's at this point Harley can stay a platonic yandere or split into a romantic yandere.

Harley would hunt you down, even if you moved.

When she does? She'll send her goons to pick you up and drag her to her little base she's made for herself.

It disappoints her that you may no longer be in your old home, but she'll find you.

You don't need to hide from her!

The moment your conscious you look so confused.

Only to see Harley staring with a grin.

"Hey there! Been awhile, hasn't it? Safe to say I think I've missed you...."

Harley would use her darling as a coping mechanism.

Like an old friend, one you never wanted, she sobs and rants about the loss of Joker.

The whole time you're tied to a chair and hoping Batman comes fast enough.

Then over time she'd shift the topic of her rants to you.

She rambles to you about how you've always been there and how much fun you two have had in the past.

Then maybe the conversation dips into romantic territory... her mentioning how she feels things for you without even meaning to say it.

The idea of her having romantic feelings towards you strikes fear in your gut.

Unfortunately, it's not your say if she has romantic intentions with you or not.

If Harley continues to just see you as a friend then she plans on making you her second in command.

Even if she liked you as a crush she'd take a similar route, although it changes over time.

She's physically clingy and often wants her darling beside her.

Harley would also find some sort of "fun" nickname to call you all the time, smiling the whole time.

If Harley held romantic feelings towards you... imagine if she tried to make you her new "Joker" in this universe?

She may try to get her hands on Joker blood, gas, or even some chemicals to force you into her new love.

Oh, Puddin'... you may be unwilling now, but she'll show you that you can be wonderful for each other.

Harley in this universe truly can't forget about her Joker.

She also adores you.

Why should she have to choose between the two of you?

Why doesn't she just have both?

Harley in this universe definitely seems like she'd brainwash and drug you into the next Joker.

The moment she sees traits of him in you melded with your normal personality, she's in love.

Ohhh, now she has you both!

She's never been happier!

While you're panicking as your personality feels split due to Joker... Harley is holding you and kissing you with happy giggles.

"Oh you're everything and everyone I love! Now I have you both once again... we... I can be happy again!"

By this point something is telling you to reciprocate the affection but you struggle with what to do.

Harley becomes fully dependent on you after this, simply happy she has her two loves in one.

Maybe you'll even let the whole Joker personality take over?

Then you'll be a ruler of crime.

This isn't a life you wanted.

But as the Joker's presence within you grows... you begin to enjoy it.

Then maybe you'll begin to reciprocate Harley's feelings.

Then you'll be everything she's ever wanted.

"I love you, Puddin'...!"

#yandere dc #yandere dc villains #yandere arkhamverse #yandere dc arkhamverse #yandere harley quinn #yandere arkhamverse harley quinn #yandere arkham knight

169 notes · View notes

turtlecleric · 6 months ago

Text

Trapper!Raph >:)

CWs: violence, blood, bear trap injury, talk of death, including a known cycle of repeated deaths over time, gruesome, gory, and creepy things, feelings/thoughts of hopelessness and being resigned to death/pain, uhhhhhhhh horror vibes?? Based on the Trapper character and entire premise of Dead by Daylight

The mists are thick tonight. Thicker than usual. You can barely see fifteen feet ahead of you, and the darkness beyond seems almost tangible. Like some great cage in all directions. Even if you were to scale the impossibly high walls surrounding the estate, you feel like you would still slam into solid black if you ran far enough. Sometimes it feels as if the darkness itself is what's keeping you here, in this insane loop of death and suffering and fear. Maybe the darkness is just as alive as you are. A sentient, ancient being that feeds off of your anguish and terror.

A silly thought, maybe. But part of you believes it's the truth.

It's so quiet here. Unnaturally so. Your shallow breaths and light footfalls feel like blaring alarms in the eerie silence. You know you need to watch where you step - always, always watch where you step - but you can't help glancing around every few seconds at the trees surrounding you. You can't shake the feeling that he's nearby, watching. Like he can see through this oppressive fog somehow and he's just waiting for you to lower your guard before he makes his move.

Focus. Listen.

You hear a generator. Somewhere to your right, you think, and it sounds like it's well on its way to being finished. So close to being done, actually, that you hesitate. You can't hear anyone working on it right now. Surely there's a reason that whoever started it didn't finish if it's that close. Maybe he found them and he's chasing them away.

Or maybe it's a trap. That's his whole thing, after all. Traps.

…But the generator sounds so close to being done. And you only need two more to escape this wretched place - at least until the darkness drags you back in.

Breathe. Focus. Keep going.

You didn't think you could get more tense than you already are, but apparently you can. The fear is a constant, choking thing, but it's especially strong now that the trees are starting to thin. So strong that you're sick from it, that you can barely breathe through it, but you keep walking. Carefully stepping among the gnarled tree roots, one eye on the ground and the other on your surroundings. It's just trees and mist and darkness in every direction. Everything looks the same, like you're walking in circles, but the sound of the generator is getting louder, so you know you're going in the right direction.

A shout in the distance has you gasping and stumbling over your own feet. It's not close, but it's not far enough away for you to feel safe, either. You push away the tightness in your lungs and keep walking, even as a longer scream tears through the air.

He's caught the last of the others, then.

You consider going to save the person. No doubt they're being carried to a hook. You're not sure why, but usually that's what happens when you're caught. You've been thrown onto one plenty of times before. The pain is indescribable - having a rusted, metal hook shoved through your shoulder, your own weight dragging you down as you hang there and pray to a god you no longer believe in that one of the others will be brave enough to pull you off before you're consumed by those terrifying tendrils that come from the sky.

Your chest aches just thinking about it.

A third scream sounds, and you get that distinct feeling you always get when someone is hooked that confirms your theory. Maybe… maybe you should-

There. The generator. You were right; it's almost finished. The pistons are moving quickly, the rickety thing so loud that it sounds cacophonous in your ears. Shouldn't take more than a minute to get it done, and then you only need one more to power the exit doors before you're free.

You'll finish the generator. Then you'll go save that person. Yes, that's what you'll do.

You glance behind you, looking for a hint of that terrifying mask he wears somewhere among the trees. You're being paranoid - that scream was too far away for him to suddenly be close enough that you could see him - but you keep scanning the treeline anyway. You notice a hook nearby and feel a phantom pain in your shoulder.

Come on, focus. Keep walking. You're almost to the gen-

Something snaps. Sharp, intense pain flares in your lower calf, and you try not to make a sound, you try, but a jagged shriek rips out of your throat anyway. You fall to your hands and knees, your heart in your throat. Thoughts splintering, your fingers reach toward the source of the pain and find metal.

You've stepped in a bear trap.

Stupid. Stupid. Always watch where you're stepping when it's him, you know that, that's the number one rule and you've broken it. Stupid from fear, getting ahead of yourself, you've stepped right into one of his traps - and he definitely heard you. He always does.

You try to shift your weight so that you can get a good grip on the top of the trap, but even moving an inch has you crying out and freezing in place. For a long moment you can only shake and whimper and try to breathe. Every twitch sends shooting pains through your leg, waves of nausea and dizziness making it hard to focus on anything aside from the pain.

Still, you've got to at least try to get free. He's almost certainly on his way. You need to get free and run - but fuck, fuck, you can't even see straight. You don't think you'll ever get used to how much it fucking hurts. The surreal, lightheaded feeling. The way your very bones seem to tremble. It hurts. It hurts.

It'll hurt no matter what, you tell yourself. And it'll hurt more if he gets his hands on you. So you shift, inch by inch, and you grip the top of the trap, and you try to focus past the sparks dancing in your vision.

The teeth of the trap have embedded themselves deep into the flesh on each side of your lower calf. Blood gushes between the teeth, soaking the fabric of your torn pants and making both the metal and your fingers slippery.

Fuck.

You take a shuddering breath and try to adjust your grip. You just have to pry the trap open. You've done it before, and you can do it again. It's simple. Simple, but not easy.

You can do this. Focus. Deep breath. Pull.

The teeth start to pull away, and more blood gushes out. Your ears ring, an intense dizziness making your vision blur even more, your arms shaking from the effort, and - you lose your grip. The teeth hadn't even fully retracted from your skin, but you can't help letting out a choking sob as the trap snaps back into place. Fuck, it hurts. Your chest heaves, your whole body trembling as you moan pitifully through the pain.

You can't do it. You can't get out. Too weak, too tired, too stupid. You're trapped, you're trapped, you're trapped-

And then. You feel it. That unnatural, inexplicable something that tells you he's close. A sound, a feeling, like your own thundering heartbeat, but so much more. You look around, frantically searching for that telltale red light that accompanies him everywhere, wiping desperately at the tears blurring your vision, probably smearing blood across your face in the process. It doesn't help you see any better - only makes the smell of copper that much stronger in your nose. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and helpless dread settles in your stomach like a stone.

It's him. The Trapper.

You take in the hulking figure. The slow, lumbering gait. Just his silhouette is enough to make you freeze like- well. Like prey, caught in a trap. Normally you'd be scrambling to pry the trap off, desperately trying to get away, but… not this time. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or maybe you're just tired of fighting a pointless battle in an endless war that's impossible to win. Either way, instead of trying to free yourself, you watch him stalk closer in a daze.

The monsters in this place are all unique. Some look just like humans, while others are so horrific it makes you nauseous just thinking about them. The Trapper, though… he's something in between. An enormous humanoid… turtle? You think so, yeah. With spikes jutting out along his arms, his shell, his long, thick tail. He wears a filthy pair of overalls, frayed at the edges and covered in dirt and viscera. His spikes have poked through them in several places, as well. His mask, a horrific, grimy thing that was once white, covers all of his face except for the eye holes and the opening over his mouth that's twisted into the shape of a grotesque smile. The cleaver he carries is almost the size of your entire torso, and you can see blood still dripping sluggishly from the blade.

He's getting closer. Slow and steady, as always. You've never seen him run - and isn't that strange? That you can sprint for half an hour without stopping, and somehow he manages to keep up with you the entire time? That's odd. Then again, everything about this hell is odd. You can't remember the last time you ate or drank anything, yet you feel no hunger or thirst. You've died countless times, yet here you are.

You're not sure why these are the thoughts fumbling around in your head. You're not sure why you're still just watching him advance. Is this what it feels like? To finally give up?

The Trapper is almost upon you. Your heart throws itself wildly against your ribcage, begging you to run. Silly thing. Doesn't it know that there's no point? You'll die, and then you'll be back, and you'll die again. What's the point in even trying? This is what your life, if you can even call it that, is going to be like for eternity. Pain and fear and death. Over and over and over.

Still, it screams. Run. Run away.

You keep watching him. The way the mist swirls around him is almost pretty, especially with the red glow that emanates from him, staining the ground in front of him a deep crimson. When he gets close enough for that red light to wash over you, you wonder if your heart might actually leap from your chest and run away without you since you refuse to listen.

He's so close you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. So close that you have to angle your head back to keep your eyes on his mask. His arm raises, and this is the part where you should look away. Or shield yourself, or beg for mercy, or- something. But nothing has ever made a difference in the past. Why bother? He'll strike you down and toss you over his shoulder and carry you to that hook you saw nearby. That's just the way it is, now that you're caught, and anything you do now will just be delaying the inevitable.

So you watch. And you wait for the strike.

…The strike doesn't come.

He's just… standing there. Looming over you. His hand still holding that great cleaver in the air. Now that you're paying attention, you can hear his heavy breaths - unsteady, with the hint of a growl in each one - starting to come a little faster.

That's… new.

You stare up at him. He stares down at you. After what feels like an eternity, the cleaver lowers, and he- he drops it.

What?

Never. Never. Not once in the entire time you've been trapped in this hell has a monster dropped their weapon. Even when stunned, or blinded, or while watching the last survivor sprint through the exit doors - they've always kept a firm grip on their weapon. You wouldn't have been surprised if the weapons were somehow bound to their hands, in fact.

And yet.

He moves, slow and steady, to settle on one knee. Even kneeling, he towers over you, the red light that seemingly comes from nowhere making you squint until your eyes adjust. You're still panting, little whimpers slipping out against your will. And he's just staring.

What is he doing?

You glance from his mask to his hands. He's released his cleaver, sure, but those hands could easily crush your skull like a ripe melon. Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he's tired of striking people down in the same way every time, maybe he wants some variety.

No. You focus on his eyes. You've never been this close for this long, never been able to see what they actually look like beneath that mask. They're fully white - no pupils or anything - but you see… confusion there. Something tentative and unsure. Something you've never seen in a monster before.

His hand reaches toward you, and a spike of panic has your next breath stuttering in your lungs. You wait for a blow, a bruising grip around your throat - but it doesn't come. His hand has three fingers, you realize. Not as though two are missing, no, but more like that's just how he was born.

You're not sure why that's what you're focused on at a time like this.

Two of his fingers brush over your cheek. His skin - scales? - are rough, but it doesn't hurt. He's… gentle. It's almost a caress, the way his fingers trail along your jaw.

What is happening?

You focus on his eyes once more. The confusion you see in them is more intense now, and you can see the hints of his brow furrowing beneath the mask.

Earlier you'd been stupid from fear. Now you must be stupid from blood loss, or just plain stupid, because in the next second you open your mouth to whisper.

“Trapper?”

He inhales sharply. Blinks. And suddenly the red light is gone. Suddenly you see his pupils, suddenly that overwhelming something you always feel when a monster is near dissipates. His breaths come even faster, a hysterical undertone making you worry for him.

This creature has killed you before. Why are you worried about him?

He shakes his head, a jerky, panicked motion, and pulls his hand away from your cheek. You could swear his eyes look almost - afraid. Darting between your bloodied face and your leg in the trap and the foggy woods that surround you both. His eyes settle on yours again, and you swear - you swear - that you start to see his eyes shine with tears.

You don't have time to think too much about that before his hands shift to grip the bear trap around your leg and snap it open like it's nothing. Once again, you can't help but let out a pained shout between clenched teeth, the dizziness and ringing in your ears coming back in full force as more blood flows sluggishly from the puncture wounds. He doesn't even need to throw you on a hook, you think deliriously. He could just leave you here and wait for the darkness to take you, as long as no other survivors come along and help. But that's not an option, since the last survivor is on a hook right now. Even if they were free, there's not much time left, anyway, since you can already feel yourself starting to-

Motion. Dull, rhythmic thuds. Harsh panting, tinged with something like panic. Someone is carrying you, each step jostling your leg and turning your thoughts to static. It takes a few minutes before you remember. Before you realize.

You passed out. That's what happened. Opening your eyes presents you with the blurry sight of the Trapper's mask above you and a starless sky beyond.

Oh. He's carrying you. To a hook? But there was one right by where you were, why would he have to run to-

He's running. He's running.

You try to say something, but it just comes out a garbled mess. Even you aren't sure what you were trying to say. He doesn't respond, but he does glance down at you. His eyes are wild, but not in a way you'd ever expect. There isn't fury or bloodlust there. Instead, you see fear. Desperation. Guilt. Things you hadn't thought the monsters in here were even capable of feeling. You also realize that he's carrying you bridal style, cradling you close to his chest. Usually he just tosses people over his shoulder when he carries them to a hook.

So many things that don't add up here, so many things out of the ordinary. What happened? What changed?

Where is he taking you?

You turn your head, looking in the direction that he's running. Your vision is still blurry, and you can't make out anything but vague shapes through the mist and darkness. Your head rolls back, and you catch the unmistakable sight of those inky black tendrils reaching down from the sky in the distance, twisting and curling until they breach the top of the treeline.

The last survivor. You'd wanted to save them, but if those things are descending for them it's too late. Not that you're in any state to lift someone off a hook anyway.

You're sorry. Fuck, you're so sorry.

You blink and suddenly the Trapper isn't running anymore. Instead he's shifting you in his arms. That was odd. Did you pass out again for a few seconds? You can't really tell, but you're distracted by the flare of pain in your leg that the movement causes.

Focus on something else.

Again you twist to look forward. You're shocked to see that he's brought you to the exit doors, and he's pressing a hand to the switch. You're not sure what he's doing, exactly - it won't activate unless all the generators are up and running.

Wait. Why did he bring you to the exit doors?

You can't focus. Can't organize your thoughts. Can't even lift your head for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you're close to bleeding out at this point. Maybe all of this has been some strange hallucination that your brain cooked up while you lie dying on the ground, still stuck in that bear trap. Sometimes the monsters do that - leave you there to bleed out. Sometimes they just stand there and watch you as the light leaves your eyes, guarding the area so that no others can help you.

A faint red glow distracts you from your thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the Trapper's hand against the switch, and you're shocked to see his hand glow red. It's not the same red that usually accompanies him, though. This feels… different. Just as strong, but more… pure.

A blaring horn cuts through the air as the exit doors grind open. He shifts you in his arms once again and starts to carry you through the doors. You can see the dark, empty field beyond. Your path to freedom and safety, temporary as it is, sends a rush of excitement through you. Incredulous, you stare up at the Trapper as he kneels and carefully lowers you to the ground inches away from the edge of the little area that separates the walled estate in one direction and the open field in the other. Behind him, you can see the grounds of the estate starting to shake. Angry red lines crack the earth, and little tendrils of darkness start to curl up from the shadows.

The Trapper is watching you. Holding you upright with a hand supporting your back. You try to blink away the blurriness, but you can't. Can't focus. Can't think. But you know freedom is within reach. You only need to crawl across the threshold and you'll be fine. It doesn't make sense, but as long as you cross the threshold you always make it back to the campfire. Even if you're on the verge of death, you make it back.

And he's brought you right to the edge. As far as he can go. No monster has ever been able to cross the threshold.

You must have finally lost your mind. He isn't holding you here, isn't trying to stop you from leaving, and yet you haven't moved. Not only is he still very capable of killing you, even without the cleaver he seems to have left behind, but you're also on a timer. Once the exit doors are open, there's only so much time before the darkness swallows anyone who hasn't escaped. It's a quick death, sure, but incredibly unpleasant. Just the memory of what it sounds like for your bones to crack and crunch inside of you sends a shiver up your spine.

But… this is all so strange. You're half convinced that you're dreaming. A monster showing any sort of mercy is unheard of, much less a monster helping you escape. Could this be another trap, somehow?

It's at that moment that you hear him speak for the very first time. His voice is a rumbling, scratchy thing that sounds like it hasn't been used in ages. Cracking at the edges and colored with something timid and pleading.

“Please,” he whispers. “Go.”

There are things you want to ask. Things you want to say. You didn't even know he was capable of speech until now. But you're running out of time. Every second that you delay is another second closer to death. Dying is never easy, never pleasant, but you seriously consider waiting it out just to get more time to experience whatever the fuck is happening right now. You have no clue how long you've been stuck in this hell, but it's been long enough that you've started to forget things. Like your mother's maiden name. Your address. What color your best friend's eyes were. And in all the time you've spent here, nothing like this has ever happened. You don't know if it ever will again.

He nudges your thigh with his free hand. Gentle but insistent. You have to blink a few times to focus on his face - mask. Mask, it's a mask. You wonder what he looks like underneath it.

It isn't until his hand closes around your wrist that you realize you had started reaching toward him. “Mask,” you mumble, hearing the slurring in your own voice. You think you might be dangerously close to passing out again. Somehow that fact doesn't bother you as much as it should.

“It doesn't come off.” He clears his throat, releasing your wrist. “I've tried.”

That must be uncomfortable. Stifling, even. Does that mean he doesn't want to wear it? Who put it on him, then? And why?

His voice interrupts your thoughts again, but you don't quite catch what he says. Something about sorrow and meaning… or, no, that's not exactly what it was. You're drifting a bit, you realize. Having trouble keeping your eyes open. You feel him nudge you again, a little harder this time, and manage to pry your eyes open long enough to catch his gaze. You see tears there.

Crying. He's still crying.

Why do you care?

You glance behind him. The grounds of the estate are almost unrecognizable from how warped they've become. You need to go. But for the first time, you're wondering what it's like for him. Does he wake up at a campfire once the trial is over, too? Is he stuck on the estate until the darkness whisks him off to another location with new victims? Does he even want to kill people? And how did he even end up here in the first place? You'd always thought the monsters were sort of - part of it all. Just like the dilapidated buildings and the black sky, something that was created just for the purpose of torturing you and the others you've seen between the short reprieves offered by the campfire.

Was he stolen away from his life just like you were? Is he just as trapped as you?

Time is almost up. If you delay any longer it'll be over, and you can't stomach dying when escape is right here at your fingertips. So you lean, falling onto your forearms, and start to drag yourself over the threshold.

Just before you're clear, you glance back. He's still there. Watching. Kneeling. You can't be sure, but you think he's… trembling.

What must it be like? Watching you crawl away while he's stuck behind?

You swallow thickly, hesitating. You can't stay, and you can't take him with you, but you also can't leave without saying something. “Thank you, Trapper.”

The mask obscures his expression, but you see his hands tighten into fists. “Raphael,” he says weakly. Something in his inflection makes you want to turn back and sit with him until the darkness takes you. But you don't. “My name is Raphael.”

“...Thank you, Raphael.”

And you crawl away.

tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @shakeyourtrees

#turtlecleric scrolls #rise!raph #hey guys did you miss me? did you miss me writing weird shit that is so very niche?#shout out to gornack for inspiring this

50 notes · View notes

year2000electronics · 5 months ago

Note

do you have any tips or suggestions for someone wanting to make their own oc story? your ocs and their stories are so insanely cool but i have no idea where i’d even begin to make one!

also happy y2kvr-versary ! late i know but it was still the ask blog that caused me to follow you and i’ve just stuck around for your other content after. :)

HMMMM lemme just spill a bunch of my thoughts all at once, this is just some stuff i personally like doing with my own oc stories! by no means is this a comprehensive list and i am not a professional!

1. accept the fact that you’re probably going to need minor/side characters. of course that isn’t always the case, there are story types that only focus on a handful of characters, but let’s use the reckoning as an example: even though i love all the characters there dearly, it’s about sinclair and his donning and subsequent subverting of the “mythological hero” mantle by taking on the vices’ challenge. montez and duncan, the other two archangels, are there to serve as a secondary antagonist in holy orders and bring some more life to the story’s world respectively, and That’s Okay. recognizing that not all your characters are gonna be the most specialest boys is a great place to start with structuring an oc story imo!

2. KEEP AT IT. the reckoning as it exists now didn’t truly come together until 2020, which is when the ask blog was made. cardine (the city the vices reside in) is such a key, important concept that drives the story along and the reckoning wouldn’t be nearly as good without it, and that only got introduced in one of the final drafts pre-ask blog!! reworks, practice with laying out the events, thinking and re-thinking of stuff and spending years with it is really good. it’s healthy. i mean a lot of great films and tv get ‘saved’ at the last minute from being terrible by one terrible concept being scrapped so revising and not being afraid to change things is your best friend

3. learn some rules. i’m of the firm belief that storytelling should be an all-access hobby for everyone, so you don’t have to read all of save the cat and then write out a full script or anything, but like. turn on a movie you like, or read a book you love. think about what they’re doing to convey primary themes to you. pick out the themes, actually, that’s good too. being able to pick up on themes that aren’t just being stated to you as if it’s dialogue from sonic heroes is a great teacher on how to subtly weave those themes into your story

4. don’t be afraid to break those rules! a lot of that stuff is great to pick up but at the same time they’re YOUR characters, and if you find yourself getting bored by playing too “by the book”, nobody said you can’t change how things work. for example, a lot of my oc stories have “villain protagonists” because i just really connect with the way ‘villains’ present themselves in media. if you find yourself fixating on a side character and brushing your main character aside? screw it! you can just make the story about them! what if a 7/11 clerk went on an adventure instead of the main guy!!

5. INSPIRATION IS YOUR FRIEND. WEAR IT ON YOUR SLEEVE. i don’t mean you have to publicly disclose every single thing you were inspired by, but the amazing digital circus is REALLY big right now, and gooseworx has told people IHNMAIMS and the raggedy ann movie were big inspos and she clearly loves those things because they uplift the work higher! (plus it gave people a new appreciation for those things) and, imo, understanding what inspires you and celebrating it is a lot better of a mindset than going into something out of sheer spite (like you’ll see a lot of people online making very inflammatory “i alone could fix a piece of media that had to go through an entire writer’s room as well as corporate mandates, gosh why doesn’t everyone just Make Things Good?” type posts on social media, and i find myself straying more and more away from that). best example i can think of are all those very ill-fated “original alien stories” that su criticals made back in the day that were even more confusing than the gems and everyone had to pretend that “of course it makes more sense for the aliens to be flowers, gosh, why didn’t rebecca sugar think of this? we’re so smart”. my point is hate and shame can fizzle out quickly but creativity is forever

6. and of course, always make sure you’re actually having a good experience with the process. fun, catharsis, importance, etc. if it sucks, you can literally hit the bricks. i say that with experience because before my original superhero story existed (iris of the storm), there was another (problem students). it was dormant as a story for a really long time because i had accidentally made a superhero story without any of the superhero tropes i loved, but i couldn’t just… delete it all! OH WAIT. YES I COULD. i started it all over and got rid of ocs that i was glad i made but don’t need anymore, and i’ve never been happier cos iris of the storm is actually fun for me.

BUT YEAH THATS IT. thumbs up

#mothra answers #mothra ocs

19 notes · View notes

nomorefstogive · 1 year ago

Text

Path To Nowhere Headcanons: Langley

Good Evening ladies, gentlemen, and all things that lie between, and welcome to this newest display of our wanton insanity. While we work on updating our Genshin Impact story, A Guide To Mending Broken Wings, on Ao3, we have decided to have a bit of fun with something that is somewhat novel to us.

That being our attempts at headcanons, this one focusing on the SFW ones as we plan to make a second one to focus solely on the NSFW ones, without managing to make an entire damn fic out of each entry lol. In particular, we will be starting with our headcanons for the sinners of PTN, with all of that said, let us begin!

Ah! We will also be using a Female Chief when we mention the Chief in this fic, we hope this does not bother anyone, but yuri is a passion of ours and fem chief was practically born for being paired with all of the lovely and dangerous ladies of PTN.

First up, we have the Silver Spider of Dis herself, head of the 9th Agency and wielder of a gun to make Alucard from Hellsing ultimate proud-

Langley:

SFW Headcanons

1. Like Zealous-Box on Reddit, I believe she is actually a rather nice boss to work under, although I also see her having the mentality of 'These are my agents to bully and not yours' and as such will not tolerate any outside factors weighing down on them. Debt? She'll subtly pay off the one they owe. An issue with their kids' schooling? Welp, that school is under investigation now. And so on.

2. She has trust issues as a result of having been betrayed many times in the past. It's the reason she is so quick to put a 'Mark' on someone, so if they betray her she can put them down as soon as possible, however, it can also serve as a sign of trust to those who have proven themselves to her.

A way of saying 'I always have your back, so long as you don't double cross me,' as she could use the 'Mark' to find them if need be. Of the few people she trusts, the Chief is the newest to a very small circle and as such is under her watch.

3. The Chief is her 'Little Rookie,' and no one else's. She is their superior and she will not tolerate anyone else trying to poach someone who is hers from her.

If someone tries to give the Chief an order, she will tell the chief to ignore it, before she has a nice 'Talk' with the person who tried to order her rookie. Said talk may involve her cane and their skull becoming intimately familiar with one another.

4. She hates the Old Men who run Dis. She finds them to be both incompetent and Corrupt to the point she has many times fantasized about removing them and playing kingmaker to find suitable replacements for them, but the threat of Pharma and others keeps her from going through with said dreams, afterall it is better the Devil you know then the unknown ones. She is loyal to the city, not the suit-clad rats that run it.

5. She sleeps with her pistol under her pillow. She likewise has one on her nightstand, another strapped under the bed, and many more scattered all across her home. She even has her room at Minos, it is less a cell and more a room because the Chief has accepted they are largely running more of a rehabilitation center/halfway home/apartment complex at this point, outfitted with several guns of varying caliber hidden across it.

6. She treats her stay at Minos like a vacation from her superiors, and can often be found napping with her hat pulled down over her face and her cane over her lap, Lady Maria style, or doing any other number of things to help try and relax from all the stupidity she deals with daily.

7. She encountered Suspect R once, the event left her absolutely terrified of the woman to the point of suffering nightmares of the woman and her power for several months afterward, this being what led to her meeting Chameleon, who came to be her counselor.

To this day she is terrified of meeting the woman again, and fears that should that day come she may not be able to muster the courage to actually face her. What makes it all the more traumatic to her, is that R did not even try to fight her, she simply overwhelmed her by virtue of her sheer presence alone, and this has led to Langley fearing the idea of just what the woman is capable of if she actually tries to fight.

8. Like KhandiMahn on Reddit, I think that she does collect cute things, although I personally feel she collects things such as children story books and fairy tales and has a single stuffed animal that has been with her since childhood, where it was her only real friend, that she has kept well maintained all these years.

She cannot sleep well without her stuffed animal and would more than likely have a panic attack should it be destroyed. The Chief earns brownie points with her when they find it laying around in the washroom and patch it up before she finds them fixing it in their office, Langley almost begging them to give it back to her with the chief doing so and agreeing to not tell anyone else while Langley hold her old friend to her chest.

Needless to say, Langley threatens them to keep quiet despite what they have said and heads off to get some actual sleep, the chief smiling at their superiors' antics as she leaves.

9. She is not a morning person, at all. Her subordinates consider the idea of waking her up early to be the equivalent of walking into the Rust without a weapon and with a neon sign strapped to your chest saying 'Eat Me'. She is in fact barely coherent or aware until she has coffee in her, and is in particular quite fond of Summer's coffee, the one that keeps the Chief up for a whole day in the supervision incident, though it barely affects her.

10. She suffered a leg injury that makes her occasionally have issues with her balance while walking, hence her cane. She added all of the gizmos and gadgets it contains later on, and has recently had Summer update some of them. Among them being a taser-like function that packs as much punch as a cattle prod, an option to remove the handle, which is attached to a small pistol, and a needle filled with adrenaline with a separate one being filled with sedative.

11. She cannot stand spicy food and has a not so secret sweet tooth. In particular, she is quite fond of strawberry or blueberry flavored ice cream but also enjoys coffee flavored versions of the frozen treat as well. She has a separate freezer in her home that is filled with nothing but ice cream. Her subordinates know about it but are wise enough to not say anything because she frankly deserves it given all she has to deal with.

12. She frequently has migraines and as such carries around a pair of ear plugs, a pair of sunglasses, and a bottle of aspirin, as strong as she can obtain it without going on the blackmarket, and has a special room in her home and cell that is outfitted with complete sound proofing and no windows.

Her subordinates have come to recognize the signs of one beginning to form, and will work to get her out of whatever situation she is in and either back to her home or to somewhere she can ride out the oncoming pain till it passes.

The Chief encounters her when one is forming and takes her to their office to rise out the pain with them pulling down blackout curtains and giving her a pillow to rest her head on as they go to leave, only for Langley to stop them and ask them to stay with her during it and until it passes.

13. She is somewhat touch starved, but she has had bad experiences with physical contact from her childhood and from her struggles throughout her life, and as such is somewhat adverse to it.

That said, once she feels she can trust someone implicitly, of which there are few, she will typically be the one to initiate contact, typically through light brushes against their shoulders or by threading their fingers together.

If she ever reaches the point of allowing for herself to embrace someone, or allow for them to embrace her, then it becomes readily apparent that she is quite clingy and will allow for just how touch starved she is to become apparent as she tries to maintain contact for as long as possible or initiate it whenever it is possible for her to do so.

It will be worse still if she has nothing to do, and she knows the one she is holding has nothing to do, in which case they had best be prepared for a lengthy stay.

14. She has something of a fascination with spiders, often pausing to admire their webs whenevers she gets the chance, or allowing them to scurry across her hand or nest in the corners of her home, she also has a terrarium filled with various breeds from harmless if annoying Jumping Spiders, to lethal Brown Recluse and Black Widow spiders.

Curiously, even the most hostile breeds of arachnids seem to be somewhat docile in her presence and also seem to display something akin to obedience to the Silver Spider of Dis, perhaps owing to an unknown attribute of her Sinner Power or for other unknown reason.

She is particularly proud of having managed to get her hands on, and subsequently raise, a Female Goliath Bird Eater that she has named Spook, it is unknown if the Spider is normal or not, as it has lived for almost 10 years past its life expectancy and has shown remarkable intelligence.

All of that said, the chief most certainly did not appreciate it when Spook landed on her shoulder while visiting Langley, the ensuing scream could be heard well across the Bureau and most of Dis.

15. Her driving is…let us just say it is something that necessitates boeing both soundly buckled in for, and having made sure that your last will and testament is in order, as Langley tends to pay less attention to speed limits and traffic laws, than she does on getting where she needs to go fast.

There are many reasons her agents trip over themselves to drive her somewhere, and most of them are owed in part to the sheer amount of accidents she has caused over the course of her time behind the wheel.

16. She has a somewhat odd relationship with Tetra and Bai Yi, as she has hired the 2 to do jobs for her, and by extension the 9th Agency, before and while she has had many complaints about Bai Yi’s antics in the past, she cannot help but admit that the 2 are among her most trusted independent contractors for when she needs something done outside of her own jurisdiction.

She occasionally provides them aid by subtly having charges against them revoked, or by having them bailed out of sticky situations, though she always expects them to repay her in some way once she has done so.

17. She has something of a rivalry with Eirene, the two often being found playing chess against one another and speaking, though few of those who have managed to find them during these games are able to understand just what it is they are speaking about.

This rivalry also manifest as Eirene going out of her way to purchase assets the 9th Agency is interested in, be it structures and companies, or hiring individuals they were interested in recruiting and then using them as leverage to force LAngley to play further games with her both at the negotiating table and at the chess board.

18. She has a fascination with Crache and has her eye on her as a potential recruit for the 9th, her ability to effectively control shadows and to appear out of nowhere having the potential to make for not only a lethal agent but perhaps also someone that, if taught correctly, could become a greater legend than even herself in the fields of espionage.

For now though, she is content merely monitoring the girls growth and ensuring she continues to develop along the right paths, occasionally she will provide little tests and challenges for the girls ability as well as subtly raising the education level of her tests to see her strive to grow, but outside of that she is keeping her hands off of her for fear of a certain nurse catching wind of her interest.

She despises needles and someone with a gun that shoots them is as such quite a bother for her to deal with.

19. She once attempted to deal with Nightingale’s work out of curiosity for just what the adjutant has to deal with on a daily basis, she promptly had a small mental breakdown after the first hour, crashed from an overdose of caffeine near the third, had another mental breakdown near the fourth, and upon seeing just how much was left gave up and fled to her cell.

She has since made it clear that no one is to speak ill of the Adjutant, be they Sinner or Agent from the 9th or otherwise, any person who can handle that much bullshit and not lose their minds deserves not only the highest of praise, but also whatever the hell else they want or need, whenever they want or need it.

20. She has a personal stamp made in the image of a widow like spider with a hypercube on its thorax that she uses to stamp all of her documents with, she once attempted to add a webbing design to it…it did not work like she thought it would and resembled more solid circle of ink than anything else and so she tossed the web and went back to the simpler spider design.

21. Her main gun is called the “Silver widow”, she has several spares with similar names, from a sniper rifle called the “Black Widow”, to a shotgun called the “Brown Recluse”, she has likewise had each of the weapons inscribed with the design of the spider they are named after, her main gun bearing the only custom emblem out of the lot with it being her own spider symbol, a widow like spider with a hypercube in place of an hourglass on the thorax.

22. She shares a feeling of fond exasperation for the Chief and her usual aids, Hella and Hecate, as while they do get results, their methods tend to be…rather unique and occasionally very entertaining to watch and or hear about, but she is also somewhat wary of the most unlikely of the two Sinners for her own reason.

She sees the Chief as something of a protege, though it could also be argued she seems to have a borderline romantic interest in them, or perhaps it is the growing bond between them simply showing just how lonely she truly is behind the mask of the leader of the 9th.

Regardless she tends to go out of her way to keep an eye on the eccentric Chief of Minos, occasionally going out of her way to aid them from the shadows or protect them from the various elements of Dis that just seem incapable of grasping just under whose protection they are.

As for Hecate, she finds the quiet and artistic girl to be somewhat pleasant to be around, always silent unless she is spoken to or needs to speak and always sketching she is one of the very few to have encountered Langley while she was having a migraine and not earned a bullet between the eyes as she closed the curtains of the room they were in and gave her a pillow to put her head on.

When she asked why she helped her, Hecate merely looked at her and tilted her head before saying; “You have been kind to the Chief, and the Chief says I should help people if they are in pain, and you looked like you were in pain. Is that not a good enough reason?”

Langley will deny to her dying breath that she gave the young woman a head pat after she said that, and Hecate herself will be strangely quiet on the subject, though there will be a faint glimmer in her eyes at the memory.

Since then, she has had something of a soft spot for the young woman, typically it is one shown by making sure she is alright upon returning from a mission or by encouraging her to grow beyond her current state of being, typically by arranging tests for her or challenging her to chess, she can proudly say the young woman is showing progress in her growing education.

As for Hella, one would expect her to despise the feral gremlin of Syndicate, what with her foul tongue, disrespect for authorities, and penchant for causing trouble wherever she goes, but in truth she finds her to be quite entertaining as all it takes to cause a spectacle is to say the right words to wind her up and then point her at something as she watches the fireworks.

She also harbors a grudging respect for the young girl, as at one point she found herself confronted by Hella in one of the many hallways of Minos, the Syndican casually leaning against a wall as Ninety-Nine leaned against the wall across from her.

She had been intrigued from the moment she saw the oddly calm and composed look in the little gremlin’s eyes as she pushed herself off the wall and walked towards her, stopping in front of her and looking up just enough to meet her eyes as she spoke up in an oddly calm voice.

What followed was something she did not expect, the little B-Rank Sinner meeting the eyes of the Spider of Paradiso, an S-Rank Sinner with a kill count in the hundreds if not thousands, and telling her that she didn’t trust her, nor did she like her authority over the Chief, but she would tolerate them.

But if she betrayed the Chief, if she betrayed them or hurt them in anyway…well Ninety-Nine’s fist striking the hypercube reinforced wall with enough force to cause cracks to spider web across the wall and dust to fall to the ground as she pulled her mutated hand out of the pit she had born through it with one strike finished her sentence.

The display was met with her aiming her pistol at the younger Syndican fast enough neither could blink before the cold metal was aimed at her forehead, the taller Syndican snarling as her eyes began to burn crimson as her power began to surge, only for Hella to do something that caught them both off guard.

She laughed.

She looked Langley dead in the eye, and she laughed as she lifted up her hand and pulled the gun flush against her forehead, the cold steel meeting her skin in a frigid kiss as she unblinkingly met Langley’s gaze.

“Go ahead, pull the trigger you eight legged Eastside bitch. We both know you don’t have enough bullets or strength to keep me from coming back before you can put Ninety-Nine down, and how long do you think that fancy cane will keep us back huh? Think a taser and a few knives and a little pea shooter are going to stop us for more than what? A few minutes? An hour? Doesn’t fucking matter, eventually one of us will break it, then what? How long will you last with that bad leg of yours? I give you about 10 minutes before one of us breaks it again, and this time you won’t have anyone to save you. So go ahead cow, put one between my eyes, I. Fucking. Dare. You.”

As Hella spoke she had reached her hand up to grip Langley’s wrist and begin to rest her smaller, yet more heavily calloused hand, over hers and begin to push down on the trigger finger after she thumbed the hammer back, never once breaking her gaze as she and Langley kept meeting each others eyes.

Langley could feel Ninety-Nine’s gaze on her as she moved closer to her sun’s side, her posture telling Langley that the moment she squeezed the trigger, she would be fighting the brute up close and personal and she doubted even a round from her gun would stop her.

And so, she pulled her gun back and gave an amused chuckle to the young woman and her hulking companion.

She looked down into Hella’s eyes and offered her a simple nod of understanding as she holstered her gun and began to walk away, the pair letting her pass with their peace said, though she soon stopped to call over her shoulder to them.

“I’ve known some of the best FAC soldiers and Agents in my life, and none of them have even half the guts you do brat, I look forward to seeing how you’ll turn out, little girl from Syndicate.”

Since then she has kept a close eye on the little gremlin, all the while wondering just what is truly going on in the head of the little B-Rank that had the guts to stare her down like that, because now that she has seen a glimpse of what lays behind the facade of a brat, she can’t help but wonder just what kind of beast stands beside the Chief.

23. She is bi-sexual, but prefers either females or feminine or effeminate looking males, she is also one to very much wear the pants in any relationship, though she will have her softer moments, especially after a long day of dealing with the bullshit she deals with and her leg beginning to ache on her.

All she will want after visiting her partner afterwards, is to have her leg massaged while she closes her eyes and gets some sleep as she dreams of the day when she finally snaps and sets her paperwork on fire.

24. She can be quite protective of those she has grown close to, and even more so in regards to those she considers friends or potential partners. Expect the Spider’s web to be thoroughly wrapped around these individuals as she maintains near constant surveillance of them and those around them.

Any fool going after them will have not only the Spider herself after them, but all of the 9th gunning for them as well, because their boss has earned those few treasured individuals after all the shit she has been through and anyone that tries to take those that make her happy from her, had best start digging their grave, cause whatever gods they worship have washed their hands of them.

And that is about all for the Headcanon we have for the silver Spider of Paradiso at the moment, we may come up with some more in the future but for now this is where we will be ending this little chapter of this mess.

Till next time, take care and stay safe everyone.

#ptn langley #path to nowhere #headcanons #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere Langley #Path to nowhere chief #ptn hella #ptn chief #ptn hecate #ptn ninety nine #characters aside from langley are just mentioned really #let's see if I can go an entry without making a ficlet out of one of these headcanons #ptn

119 notes · View notes

loz-the-noob · 1 year ago

Text

I find Marie’s body language in Return of the Mammalians really interesting because I can use it as Momrie propaganda BECAUSE it’s a really great physical representation of a side of her personality we don’t get to see that much in the game.

There are only a couple of instances this can be applied to in Return of the Mammalians but because I’m bored and desperate, I can stretch it to three, with a fourth scene where I think it could be improved.

Hold on to your tentacles! You’re probably going to think I’m insane after this.

I can’t believe you actually want to read this.

So, the first example I have AND the one that inspired me to write this mess is the scene during the construction of the uh, the machine thingy (does it have a name?) where Callie leaps at Marie to hug her in celebration of completing their task. And I MEAN leaps. We can’t see the whole of their bodies but judging by the suddenly acquired height difference, Callie is completely off the ground at this point. Given that the scene ends in a freeze frame, we don’t see the full force or speed of the hug-tackle either, but what’s clear is that Marie is prepared for it. Just to give myself a bit of focus because I have NO idea where I’m going with this; if the Marie-is-a-Horrible-Cousin Truthers whose splatoon knowledge ends like 6 years ago are correct, wouldn’t Marie have gone ‘Ew. UGH. CAL *hair flip* why are you TOUCHING me?’ or something? Or at the very least be completely unprepared to catch her? And that’s the thing! She doesn’t just hug her back - she CATCHES her. As shown by this here low quality image vv

Marie’s arms come up under Callie’s in a scooping motion. She is fully aware of her cousin’s physical recklessness and is completely prepared to catch her and keep her safe. I mean, the fact that Callie trusts her enough to just… fling herself at her is telling enough.

Alrighty. Next point GO!!

After Cuttlefish (I don’t like calling him that. Let’s call him Craig) after Craig gets Sucked Dry by That Bear, the Squid Sisters seem… mildly concerned, which is probably to keep the upbeat and comedic feel of the game while sacrificing a little emotional realism (coming back to this later!), but after they see he’s fully conscious and capable of floating by himself for some reason (?) everything’s Suddenly Fine Again. Except the world being in immediate danger, obviously. But here’s the thing (did I say that already? Well, there are 2 things)! For the remaining portion of the game this side of the end credits, Marie is just… holding Craig. As afore mentioned though, he can float. She doesn’t NEED to be holding him but she just is. Whether that’s because she’s happy to see her grandfather safe or whether something inside her soggy little brain saw something smaller than herself and told her to protect it is a mystery, but either way, that is some quality… body language… there…(again, lost my point. Weirdly, whenever I think about someone being held by Marie, I seem to lose focus. Huh.)

Anyway, here’s a picture of Marie holding Craig. Look at how she’s trying to engage him in something he could easily be left out of. Does this image not bring you joy???

Moving on briefly from all the Marie-talk, let’s talk a little Callie. I’m honestly thrilled about what they did with Callie’s body language in this game. She’s full of energy and quite hands-on, which is exactly how I expected her to be, even though this is pretty much the first time we see her physically interact with other characters in the entire Splatoon series. It just feels right.

It completely makes sense that Callie would spend the majority (why did that just autocorrect to Major Titty. Why.) of the pre-boss cutscene literally hanging off Marie’s arm, and the awesome thing about that is that Marie doesn’t pull away or look irritated by her cousin’s constant GRIPPING and SHAKING of her arm at all. I don’t know about you, but if I had someone attached to me like that while I was trying to think of a master plan, I’d be pretty annoyed. Unless, of course, it was Callie. I’m getting off track again here. My point WAS that Marie is so, so chill. I hate it when people try to portray her as angsty because she just… isn’t.

What all this body language shows is that Marie is a supportive, nurturing well of patience and ANYONE THAT SAYS OTHERWISE WILL BE FED TO THE BEASTS.

Which is WHY I think that during the scene where Craig is slightly rehydrated by the Captain’s tear, it would make way much more sense to have Marie reach out a hand to touch the Captain’s shoulder, or at least do something other than freezing there with an expression reminiscent of a damp, shocked cat. Now that Nintendo seems to have got their act together a little in terms of cutscenes, it would be nice to have more examples of characters (Marie. Marie is characters) using their body language to visually convey the finer points of their personality which may have been overlooked by some people *cough cough* Marie Trut-💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Struggling to find the point of this ‘argument’? So am I. What even is this? I’m not reading it back before I post it, that’s for sure. Gnight.

#please don’t unfollow me #actually just don’t read this #leave #go #save yourselves #absolutely dogshit post #long post #if this gets 2 notes I’m main tagging #loz rambles #edit: right then. time to go #splatoon #squid sisters #return of the mammalians #callie splatoon #marie splatoon #pr0shippers please don’t interact with this or I’ll eat you #(censoring that so it doesn’t show up in the tags. I’m not a tiktokker i promise. I don’t even have it)

78 notes · View notes

buckyarchives · 2 years ago

Text

The Domestic Life Of Living With a Runaway Assassin [chapter one.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

summary: you hate many things in life. You hate soulmates. You hate the avengers. You hate guns. You hate lost snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can find yourself hating him

W.c: 6.9k

Author note: did not think this was going to actually get notes. I forgot how bad my wiring was back then and going through and rewriting all of it is just. Ugh. I’m too lazy.

masterlist

Today was going down as the most inconvenient day ever.

It was 10:30 pm, and you were sitting in some stupid coffee shop, the only one that had free Wi-Fii in your area because yours is down for the next 24 hours. The coffee tastes like shit because of-fucking-course it does. This place closes in 30 minutes and you have all that time to send in all your week's work to your boss, which is also due in 30 minutes. You weren't even going to think about the fact you spent all day having to listen to ongoing construction outside and having to run your roommate all around Queens to help her get comfy and organized at her dorm.

You wanted to kick someone, honestly.

As you tried your best to focus and very frantically type away at your keyboard. You were probably going to break your keyboard at some point tonight, either by typing too hard or just simply throwing it across the fucking room in a fit of rage.

A woman, maybe in her mid-30s – if it matters, walks up to you and reminds you that the place closes in half an hour and gives you a free, pity coffee. Probably noticing the growing under eyes bags or seeing you yawn into your hand every 7 minutes, give or take.

You had chugged the coffee and put everything you had into the next 20-something minutes and you sat back after your third look over everything to make sure you didn't miss any mistakes that could possibly get you fired. You were finally done and could go home.

Closing your laptop and packing your shit up, you wave to the lovely lady probably waiting for you to leave so she can close up. But because nothing goes your way and New York is just the most wonderful place to live, especially with the avengers. You don't make it out the door before you hear rapid gunfire rattle your ears and suddenly you’re ducking beneath the first table you find.

Your day could not get any worse, you thought.

Maybe you could have just crawled up in a ball and accepted your fate of being killed midst the 7th random gunfight of the month, you could even make it on the news! Nope, fate had other ideas and someone just has to save you.

Your ears filter out everything besides the sound of gunfire, glass shattering, and people screaming and yelling. It's too fucking late for this. A firm hand grabs yours and before you can get whisked away and snatch your bag because your life is worth risking for your laptop and books. You swear you got whiplash from how fast you moved away from the scene, only seeing a black blur of a human in front of you.

You regain your senses, most of them. After being pushed and crouched in a back alley behind the now-destroyed coffee shop, you hoped the lady was okay. catching your breath and hearing frantic shuffling next to you. A man, tall and built, dressed entirely in black with a plethora of weapons attached to his body. He glances at you for a moment and you think he looks familiar, maybe he was an Avenger. God, you hate the Avengers. His eyes continued to scan the dark area, before settling down next to you, eyes trained on one end of the ally.

He has a messy mop of a head, you can't really see his eyes clearly but you definitely notice the insane-Robert-Pattinson's-batman-amounts of black eyeshadow around his eyes. He has a black mask on too. Okay, so edgy Avengers. Haven't heard of him on the news yet. Like you even watch the news.

You must have been staring for a little too long and too hard because the mystery Avenger takes notice of it and his bushy eyebrows furrow at you, looking at you like you had personally offended him. Then, you notice his eyes and are a little, only a little, taken aback by their intense blueness and beauty of them. You barely notice what he says. “I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

You scoff. “I don't even know who you are.”

The emo Avenger freezes and looks at you with wide eyes like you grew two heads. Or you were the crazy one between the two of you. “What?” you question him and he mumbled and sputtered under the mask. You motion for the mask, telling him to take it off. And he slowly rips it off his face, his very pink lips are parted and he's breathing hard and fast.

“You.. what did you say, your words.”

Wait.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Your mouth falls open and you really want to kick something, or him. “You're my soulmate?” you said maybe a little too loud and it came out harsher than intended. He looks hurt by your tone and if it wasn't for the shock taking over your head, you would have felt bad.

Today is the most inconvenient and the worst day of your life.

“Wow doll, you're the first person I've met that sounds disappointed to find their soulmate.” you ignore his comment and especially ignore the nickname, hoping that wouldn't stick. You wanted to go the fuck home.

“Can I leave?”

Your soulmate narrowed his eyes at you. “No.”

“Why.” your eyes narrow back into his and just for a moment you realize you’re now in an impromptu staring contest with this man in some dirty back alley, hoping you don't get shot. “Listen, man, I have work tomorrow and I'd rather not get shot or dragged into some avengers bullshit.

He rolls his eyes, but you're not done. “I really don't like the Avengers. Seriously, you couldn't have chosen any other job? The number of cars I've seen the hulk throw and then miss–”

“I'm not an Avenger.” his bushy eyebrows furrow, plus the black war paint makes him look intimidating. If you weren't pissed, you might have been a little scared. Only a little.

“You really don't know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” you fire back. The ego of this guy!

He sputtered for a moment, “No, I guess not.”

your back hits the brick wall, sigh to yourself, and slump back down. You made yourself small. Now nursing a monstrous headache.

A frustrated grunt comes from the dark brunette. “Ok, ok, ok, ok… I'm going to walk you home.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he says, you just realize you don't know his name. “You said it yourself, you don't want to get shot. I’ll make sure that you don’t.”

You were really tired, letting people win wasn't something you did often. You'll make an exception. You huff and blow some stray hair away from your face. “What's your name?”

He pauses, “Bucky.”

“Well, Bucky.” you bring yourself to your feet. “You bring me safely home, quickly with no little side quest. That's it. And then you turn around and don't come back to my place.” you grab a hold of his hand to drag him along but you're met with cold, hard, metal. He flinches out of his skin, and metal. Your eyes travel up his arm.

“You’re an amputee?”

Bucky looks confused. “What?”

“Nevermind.” you shook your head and continued to drag him along to your apartment. You were so ready to go the fuck to bed. You hoped this walk home wasn't painful, but when do you get what you want?

Bucky was confused. Your pace matched his as you walked side by side to your apartment. The gentle wind brushed against his skin and flew through his brown locks. He was walking next to his soulmate. You were his soulmate and it seemed you wanted nothing to do with him.

Bucky knew very well he was way out of his time but he couldn't come up with a coherent answer to why. Was this new generation against the universe? Was this some weird trend? Unless you lied to him and did know who the winter soldier was, that would make sense. But, you seemed pretty persistent that you did, in fact, not know him (which the more he thought about it– he felt good that you didn't know). You must not read the paper, or watch the news. You thought he was a goddamn avenger!

He glances over to you, your lips. You were chewing on your bottom lip. It was painted red. You look beautiful with the dim yellow street light shining down on your face. “Don't do that.”

Bucky's voice is soft and gentle. He doesn't recognize it.

Your eyes trail to him. “Do what?” you ask

“That.” Bucky pauses in his spot on the sidewalk, takes a few steps towards you and he brings his flesh hand up to your mouth, slowly grazing his thumb across your split lip. “Don't chew so hard on your lip like that. I'm sure it hurts.”

Bucky's eyes are trained onto your lips, he doesn't dare look up at your eyes. But you are staring at him with widened eyes. You felt like you were on fire.

Too close. You pull away. “Okay, this is my apartment. Bye, Bucky.”

And just like that, you're quickly walking into your apartment lobby, you glance back at him and give Bucky a sincere smile before leaving his sights. Bucky stood there feeling like an idiot, completely forgetting any government or hydra issues he was dealing with earlier.

Bucky was going to walk away but his intrusive, no, protective – as he would describe it – thoughts took over. He jogged to the other side of the building, hoping he would be able to figure out which apartment you lived in without going too far. He saw a light turn on and noticed a figure walking by, your figure. This wasn't stalking, no. Bucky was just making sure you made it to your home, safe and sound, he was just looking out for his soulmate. As he should. So, not stalking. And maybe, if bucky only really needed it, he would remember that window so he could pay you a visit. Not stalking you, he just cares about you. For some reason.

Bucky can hear Steve calling him a punk in the back of his head. He missed steve.

On the other end, you dragged yourself into your apartment and dropped your bag the moment you reached your room. Not caring to clean yourself up you flopped on your bed, with a long and painful groan. You felt a small weight down on your bed and you turned your head to see our cat sitting down next to your head.

You smile and bring your hand to pet his head. “My savior. You are the only man I need.”

A soft purr vibrates from the felines, followed by a meow.

You sigh. “You're right. I need a shower.”

Your mind wandered in the shower, as the water trickled down your body you couldn't help but bring your hand to your shoulder blade. Your finger traced around the words on your back. Your lip tug at your bottom lip. You nibbled at the already raw skin. Don't do that. You could practically feel the warmth of his hand on your face as your mind flashes back to when he was standing so close to you just moments ago.

Bucky. There was no way you were going to let him haunt your head now. You turned the warm water off and grabbed your towel in annoyance. Drying yourself off and heading the fuck to bed. Praying that maybe when you wake up this whole day would be a dream. No soulmates, no getting shot at, and absolutely no getting flustered outside your apartment by someone you met an hour ago.

–

Bucky couldn't wait to see you again. He has been on the run from Hydra and Steve Rogers for too long; bucky had a hint on who would find him first. One night everything got to be too much. Parts of what hydra did to him are still very much a part of him, it was tearing him apart. It was getting harder and harder to diffrerencate what was bucky, the winter soldier, or this third feeling of pure absence of someone he didn’t know yet. He needed someone, anyone. He needed you.

You heard someone call for your name, they kept shaking you. You just wanted peaceful sleep goddamn it. You needed it. You rustled in your bed sheets, waving your hand at your roommate. She said your name again, and again, and again and ag–

“What!” you look over to see her, barely, in the dark of the room. “I'm trying to sleep!”

“There is someone in our living room.” she barely whispers.

Oh. “are you sure?” you squint at her. You don't know if she can even see you clearly enough.

“Yes.” another scared whisper.

What does a person around here have to do to get a full night's sleep for fuck sake?

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head. Pulling back the covers and throwing your phone at your roommate. “Call 911 if I scream or take longer than I should.” you grab the metal bat in the corner of your room.

The fucker that decided to rob you tonight picked the wrong house, knowing the amount of pent-up rage you had; you were sure you could knock out fucking Capitan America if you wanted. Just imagine your boss's face. You sigh, loud and hard footsteps echoed through your apartment. Rounding a corner and pulling the bat high up and–

Cling!

You braced for impact. You don't get it. You look up at whoever, whatever you hit. “You!”

You are angrier than you were when interrupted from your sleep. What is he doing here? In the middle of your living room, at least he's not wearing his stupid, edgy superhero get-up. Just normal clothing and a baseball cap, but you could see the outline of a gun through his jacket.

“Can you put the bat down?” Bucky’s holding the bat, stopping you from landing a hit to his head.

“No. what are you doing in my living room.”

His face scrunches. Pulling the bat down and yanking it from your hands. That fake arm of his was stronger than you expected. Bucky lets out a pained sigh, “I don't know but will you just listen to me and not hit me, please?”

You feel bad. “Maybe.”

Bucky looks at you and you swear he looks like he’s going to cry. The moonlight shining through your windows makes his face look sharper, defining his features more. You think maybe this is a dream because he looks really good. Bucky looks at you like you are his whole world, or maybe you will be someday soon. “I just…”

You’re quiet, you listening to him. Bucky realizes that maybe he will cry tonight. “I just need to talk to someone, anyone. Be with someone right now or… or…” he trails off, not wanting to think about what else could happen.

you feel terrible. “Do you not have someone else than a soulmate you've only known for an hour?” you joke, but he looks at you like it's definitely not a joke. Bucky's eyes are trained on the floor as he shakes his head.

His head jerks up when your roommate walks into the room. “Do I still call 911?”

“No!.” you and bucky yelled at the same time. Eyes snapping to each other after the syllable left your mouth, eyebrows furrowed and spite heavy on your face. Whilst Bucky looked one wrong move away from a nervous breakdown. Weird dude.

You motion to your roommate to tell her to go back to bed but before you can get any words out she’s shoving past you to get too bucky. “Wait.. are you... I’ve seen you on the news.” her hand raises to her face to cover her gaping mouth. Her eyes go wide and she suddenly looks like a ghost. “Oh, my god.”

What the fuck. “Seriously, jasmine go back to bed and stop gawking at my soulmate.”

She shouts your name like your mother would when you started cussing. “You are not serious. Do you know who this is.” her pointer finger goes towards bucky aggressively. Bucky looks panicked, you wonder why but based on this mood earlier; it was best to ask questions later. It was time to play dutiful soulmate.

“Look, jas.” you grab her by the shoulders. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Just go to bed, please?” you guide– no, drag her out of the room and give her a final nudge away, despite her weird shouts about a winter something. You couldn’t care to listen.

“I’m sorry about her. She gets paranoid.” you release a breath you forgot you were holding, followed by a plop of the couch. Bucky settles awkwardly next to you. “You really shouldn’t go breaking into people's houses, buck.”

Bucky gets whiplash at the nickname, his mind goes to Steve and suddenly he feels out of place. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, you barely hear him. “I should go, this was stupid.” Bucky goes to get up and head toward the fire escape again but you’re quick, grabbing his wrist. Bucky could have pulled away from you if he wanted, but he crumbled under your touch. Bucky holds his breath like he’s going to drown.

Bucky’s days kinda blend together. He likes routine, but there was no routine to have when you're doing what he does. You met him two weeks ago, it felt a lot more than that, or less. He couldn't tell but your touch made him feel like everything was so far away, he caught his breath for the first time in weeks.

Bucky thought about spilling it all out, his past, his everything. But that would defeat the purpose of coming here. That talk could wait. “I'm sorry that you got me as a soulmate.”

You smack your lips and scoff. “As your body should say– uh, somewhere.” you wave your hands dramatically, “I don't even know who you are. Nothing to be sorry for, yet.”

His lip quirks up. “Except scare your roommate half to death.”

“Maybe wouldn't have happened if you used the doors.” you smile at him, Bucky’s sure he wouldn't be able to see it without the soft light of the moon shining on your face. And maybe it's just his super soldier-enhanced senses, either way, he’s soaking it up like it's the only time he’ll ever see it.

“Doors aren’t really my thing.”

You scoff. “I'm not sure what that means but, at least go through my window next time.”

“Noted.”

“And knock!”

His lip quirk turns into a small grin. “Also noted.”

Bucky glances over at you, you’re biting your lip again. He wants to kiss you. He settles for pulling your chewed lip from under your teeth before it bleeds, just as he did that night outside your apartment. You smile, thinking that maybe you'll let him stay around for a while.

You realize that Bucky didn't walk you to your door that night, and didn't even make it inside the building. Your eyes furrow, and confusion and… amusement fills your body. “So did you stalk me the past few weeks or did you just kindly ask my landlord which unit I lived in?”

He pauses, hoping you wouldn't ask about that. “I wasn't stalking you, I just notice things.”

You laugh out loud, and he's caught off guard by how nice it sounds ringing in his ears. “That's literally what a stalker would say.”

“I'm serious, I've been busy doing stuff these past weeks.” Bucky tried to reassure you he wasn't camping out on the roof of the building across your window like an actual stalker would. You haven't decided if you were going to believe him. You just laugh because you feel weirdly good with him in your presence. You curse to yourself, why did the universe always have to be right?

You don't care to respond so Bucky continues. “So you're not going to ask me about what your roommate was talking about.” he turns his head to look at you. He can practically see the gears turning in your head, and he gulps.

You shake your head, eyes trained on whatever is in front of you. “Nah.” you look at him.

Bucky thinks you're the most interesting person he's met in a long time. He’ll test the waters. “What if I'm dangerous.” he narrows his eyes at you.

You narrow yours back at him. “If you're not going to kill me or you're not an avenger, I'm not too worried.”

“What do you have against the avengers?”

You groan. “It's a long story, but they are the reason I don't watch the news and why my roommate is a paranoid freak.”

Oh. so you really don't watch the news. Bucky thinks. He feels guilty when he feels a sort of relief go through his body, followed by more panic realizing he had to explain everything to you soon. Not now though, god no, not now. Maybe he could get by with not telling you at all. Bucky mentally punches himself in the face, no that wouldn't be right. Plus he was sure your roommate would babble to you about how badly the news painted him. Maybe him telling you first would be a better idea.

“Have you ever heard of the winter soldier?”

The golden rays of the sun showed down onto Bucky's face, he looked over to the window hearing the loud bustling of city life below him. Your curtains are brown with white detailing. Bucky shifted on your living room couch, he gauges his mind for the memories of last night. Everything was still all so hazy.

What day was it? Oh, last night. He tried, really, to get out the truth to you. Fumbling over his words and trying to even remember who he was, it was too much. But you, a god-given gift, told him he was too tired to talk, gave him water, and sent him off to bed on your couch.

“You can give me your tragic backstory tomorrow, get some sleep weirdo.” you had said to him before literally pushing him onto your very comfortable couch, before returning to your room for the night.

Bucky didn't sleep, he felt oddly safe and comfortable. But he couldn't sleep. Honestly, he was close to dozing off before your roommate had woken up just before sunrise to quietly go off to work, he assumed. Bucky couldn't tell what time it was, he was guessing it was probably around 5 or 6 am. He ought to get up soon and leave. Should he leave without saying something to you? Is that rude? He was sure you'd be okay with getting him out of your hair, he was already enough of a problem to people around him. Bucky gets up to grab his boots.

“Did you even sleep?” Bucky flinches, confused as to how easy it was for you to sneak up on him. He looks up and sees you leaning against a wall, assuming you just woke up. You're still dressed in comfortable clothing, your sweater falling down, giving him a full view of your collarbone. Your skin glows in the soft sunlight. Bucky shook his head in response.

You hum, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor as you make your way into the kitchen. You start making your coffee and Bucky follows. His eyes go to the table, is he intruding if he just sits down? He stands in the doorway and watches you make your drink. You turn to bucky with an oversized mug in hand, deadpanned. “Can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker. Sit down.”

You motion to the seat next to you. “Not a stalker.” bucky mumbled, and you scoff.

“You want something to drink? I got tea, coffee, juice, anything your heart desires.”

Bucky pauses. “Water?”

“Boring.” your eyes roll and you grab a bottle of water from behind you. Handing it to him, his finger brushes against yours. Bucky’s eyes dart to see your reaction, but nothing.

You get comfortable in your chair and open up your phone. Bucky is still sitting across from you, glancing between the door, window, and his water. He tries to look anywhere but at you. You quickly notice, a smart-ass comment comes to mind but you decide against it. Keeping the comfortable silence going for now.

You glance at Bucky, noticing the way his hair was still a mess from whatever he was doing last night. Quickly you realize this is the first time you've seen him in natural daylight, his eyes are beautiful and his usually dark hair looks closer to a light brunette. You could imagine going out on a date with him if he wasn't so dark and broody, but doesn't that just add to the appeal? Maybe.

You set your coffee down. “So…” trailing off, bucky finally makes eye contact with you. “You want to try again?”

Bucky's eyebrows furrow.

“I still haven't told me who the winter soldier is and it's taking everything in me to not use the internet.” you wave your phone around in the air before setting it down next to your coffee. Bucky purses his lip. “But, I respect you and wouldn't do that.”

Bucky's eyes are trained on the table, his mind trying to find any starting point for this. Should he just tell you about hydra? Start from the beginning with the 40s, fuck, he barely remembers any of that. He's not good with words anymore.

“Can I just…” he pauses, tapping his finger on the wooden table. “Show you?”

It was a bad idea, a really bad idea. Bucky told you that but you'd instead not question him why, bucky wasn't going to elaborate on that either. With both Hydra, the US government, and Steve Rogers looking for him, being in public wasn't the safest. Especially at such a hotspot for Captain America bootlickers and history nerds.

After many lazy complaints from you, you and bucky made your way out of your apartment together. Bucky wore the best casual disguise he could conjure up, and you and he stood in front of the Smithsonian museum.

Bucky glances over to you, a reasonably confused look plastered on your face. “Why are we at a museum?”

“Just follow me and don't draw attention to yourself, please?”

Instead, You roll your eyes and go ahead of him. “Stalker activity.” bucky hears you mumble before he follows you into the front door.

“What are you showing me, stalker.” bucky walks side by side with you, your presence is comforting in the crowded area. He noticed a group of elementary kids walking around, probably on a field trip.

“Stop calling me that.” he mumbled, “Captain America exhibit.”

Bucky looks at your hand, he could grab it. Only so he doesn't lose you in the crowd, just to keep you safe. Not because he wants to hold in, not because the quick graze of skin this morning left him wondering what it would feel like to hold you. Bucky decides against it and keeps walking.

“Isn't Captain America the like co-leader of the avengers or something?” you ask, bucky just shrugs? You see the large blown-up screens of steve roger and roll your eyes.

Bucky's eyes lock on his memorial tribute. “Don't freak out and you can ask me questions after we leave.”

Your face is littered with confusion again as you look at him, but you nod and turn to where he's looking at.

“..Best friends since childhood, James ‘bucky’ Barnes and steven rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield…” the voice spoke, highlighting a memorial on bucky. Your eyes widen after realizing the bucky standing next to you was the one talked about.

Your eyes travel to the photos of Bucky. One standing next to Steve Rogers with big smiles plastered on their faces, and one of just him. His hair is shorter and he looks much younger. There is a shine in his eyes you don't see now, a bright look that hadn't been snuffed out yet. Bucky watches you as you process the information given to you, watching for any negative or even mad emotions. You lean closer, reading the sign. Bucky was from Brooklyn, a sergeant in the military, he had 3 sisters and he was born in 1917 and he died in 1945. Well, obviously he didn't actually die, more like presumed dead.

“That's…you?”

bucky nodded slowly, eyes trained on the photo of him. He couldn't even recognize himself anymore.

Bucky scans the area, looking for anyone that may have recognized him. he lets out a very shaky breath. “Okay, we've been here too long let's go.” he really wanted to grab your hand on the way out. You don't look at him on the way out. God, did he ruin this already? He wants to punch himself.

You both make it outside, the cold morning wind gives you whiplash. It feels good. You turn to look at bucky and he kinda looks like he's going to have a mental breakdown, you don't blame him. What you just saw explains so much yet, leaves you with more questions than before. You don't think. You grab his flesh hand in hopes of being some comfort, praying that it doesn't make it worse. It doesn't. Bucky doesn't flinch this time but feels his heart jump out of his chest.

“Are you done with being outside or can we go somewhere?” bucky gives you a nervous and almost… pained look. “It's safe, hidden away and I know the owner,” you reassure him. Bucky reluctantly nods. I'll go anywhere with you as long as you keep holding my hand. And with that, you drag him through new york to your favorite-less-likely-to-get-shot-up coffee shop. It's small, always empty and the owner is an actual sweetheart.

The bells ring as you waltz in, bucky very close behind you, still holding your hand like a lost child. “Gary! Honey I'm home!” you shout with a wide, playful grin on your face, bucky gives a sigh of relief after noticing that it was indeed empty today.

An older man comes out from the back, along with a girl who looks like she should be in high school behind him. You wave and give him a warm smile, leaning over the counter slightly, “the usual, please?” you glance back to bucky, “.. and a water?”

You turn to bucky. “Sit anywhere, I”ll be right over in a second.”

He hums, releasing him from your grasp and suddenly he feels a little empty and more awkward than before. He goes to the table in the farthest corner. Front door. Window. Back door. You. he checks off the list and settles against the wall.

You grin. “How’ve you been holding up, old man.” you tease.

Gary, the owner. A wonderful and long-time friend of yours. When you first moved to new york years ago this was the first place you went to. You became a regular and you watches workers come and go, you came here when you needed quiet to work or sometimes just to snag a free drink from Gary since he just adored you so much.

His niece, Emma, was in high school now and worked here for the past year. You would help her study during her breaks and in return, free coffee, and pastries. She was a good baker. You didn't have family here in the city so they were the closest you were going to get to anything like it.

“Not too much, dear.” Gary gave you a warm smile, his eyes squinting. He glances over at bucky in the corner. He laughs “Got a pretty paranoid date over there, I can see his eyes hitting all the exits.”

You scoff, not expecting any less from him. “Not a date, but sadly my soulmate.”

“Finally!” Gary’s eyes light up, and you give him an annoyed look. “Oh be happy about it! Emma won't stop nagging about how she hasn't found hers yet.”

“Have not!” you hear the girl shout from across the bar. You laugh and shake your head.

Gary hands you your drinks and you bid him a quick bye, knowing he’ll just go back to his crossword puzzles in the back. Heading back over to sit next to bucky and hopefully find out he's not a zombie that's been raised from the dead.

“Your water, sergeant.” you joke, praying it doesn't hit a bad spot. Bucky was surprised by the name, he can't remember the last time someone called him that. His body feels weird.

You don't speak for a moment. You sip at your drink, hoping it will kick it as you didn't get your needed caffeine intake for the day as bucky was dragging you out the door to the museum.

You look at him through your eyelashes, he still looks like he's going to break down any second.

“Are you a zombie?”

“What?”

You set the cup down. “You died. So you must be a zombie. I can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker zombie.”

Bucky's lip quirks up. You're such a dork, he thinks. He almost laughs, it more or less came out as an amused scoff. “I'm not a zombie, I didn't die.”

“Museums these days… always spreading fake information,” you mumble into your cup, taking a quick sip. Bucky smiles, slightly.

“No, I…” bucky trails off, you keep up with the jokes yet you give him a comforting, understanding look. “I fell off a train in the war, I was supposed to die.” bucky catches his breath, talking shouldn't be this hard. “I didn’t, Hydra found me and put me on ice.”

Your eyes perk up in understanding, “like Captain America, right? So why are you on the run then?” bucky looks down, and both of your hands are cupped around your drink. He wants to grab it.

“I'm not Captain America, I did a lot of bad things when Hydra had me. I killed…” Bucky trails off, and memories of Hydra came back to him. All he hears is the sound of guns, and all the blood, he can still smell it. The electricity buzzed in his head as Hydra did their best to strip everything from him, take everything out of him, and then put it back in. bucky can see it all.

You grab his hand and it stops, he just feels you. Your hands are so warm and he wants to cry suddenly. “You don't have to tell me, I do know about Hydra. They did fucked up shit, I know. I'm sure whatever you had to do, wasn't your fault.”

You lean in. too close. your hand raises to his face and you wipe away a stray tear. Had he been crying?

Bucky lets out an unsteady breath. He can do this, you deserve an explanation. Bucky repeats in his head. He squeezes your hand gently. “They turned me into an assassin, they gave me a mission, and… I did it. I didnt know who I was before, but I didn’t... I didn’t know anything. I just knew my target.”

Your eyes are focused on him. “They had me on ice for most of it, like steve, that's why I don't remember anything. It's all so… foggy. I was sent on a mission and when I completed it I got put back under.”

“And when they needed me again, they'd just bring me back up again.”

“Like I was leftover food for them.”

You don't speak, you didnt dare to right now. Bucky's eyes were filled with anxiety as he watched you process the information. Your eyes fell, and you fiddled with your coffee cup. He saw you bite your lip again, he wanted to remind you not to. But the comment was lost in his throat. Bucky felt sick.

Say something. Please.

Your eyes glance at the silver metal shining between the cuff of his jacket and glove, something shines in your eyes, Bucky’s not quick enough to catch it before you're looking down again. Bucky is now convinced he ruined things on the first day of actually knowing you. He feels like he's going to throw up. Bucky is uncomfortable in his seat and suddenly the fresh warm air of the cafe makes him feel like he's suffocating. He goes to leave and never looks back, but your quicker this time. Grabbing his metal wrist before he gets the chance to stand. Bucky doesn't flinch this time.

“Buck, sit down.” you look at him now. “I don't hate you, calm down.”

He gulps. “You're scared of me though.”

“No.”

Bucky blinks at you, once, twice. “Why. I've killed so many-”

“Don't do that, bucky.” you shook your head at him. “Don't do that to yourself. I'm not dumb, you were a prisoner of war, a victim. You had no choice.”

A victim… he hadn't heard that word be used to describe him.

Bucky's throat goes dry. His leg bounces under the table, he can't look at you. Bucky's eyes dart to the clock. Tick, tick, tick… the door. The other door. He feels trapped.

You whisper, “bucky.”

Your name is the only thing that manages to escape Bucky’s lips. He sniffles, “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Hey, guys! Everything okay over here?”

Emma's cheering voice interrupts Bucky, you both flinch back and your hand retracts from Bucky’s hand. He feels cold. Bucky's cold hand wipes away any extra tears left. You mumble a quick response, and a few thank you’s and she left a muffin in front of you. Bucky hears her footsteps receding. He should have heard her coming up, when did he get so useless? That could have been an enemy and, boom. He's dead.

You push the blueberry muffin in front of bucky. “You like blueberries?” bucky looks at you, the muffin, back to you. Your lips are in a straight line, but your eyes are smiling.

“Plums.”

You were caught off-guard. “What?”

“I like plums.”

You hum in response and split the muffin in two. One for you and one for bucky.

The next hour is mostly silent, bucky ordered a coffee of your recommendation. Well, more like you ordered it for him and guilt-tripped him into drinking it. It was sweet. You ordered another large cup and bucky takes a mental note to make you drink more water in the future. Your hands grasp your coffee and a book, he wants to hold it again. He wonders what it would feel like to hold you, all of you.

He looks at the crossword puzzles you stole from the back for him. How could he possibly do a crossword puzzle when you're sitting in front of him? Bucky would glance up at you and he'd catch you looking at him, he looks away, and vice versa. Bucky is not shy, but sometimes he just gets nervous. How could you not? I mean, just look at you.

Your book falls from your grasp. “I don't want to intrude, but you are my stalker so I think I'm allowed to just a little.” bucky rolls his eyes. Your tone turns more serious “Just tell me if I am intruding though…”

Bucky doesn't respond and lets you speak. You're hoping you are not going into a sensitive area. “How did you get out… is that why you're on the run?”

Bucky inhales sharply. His eyes flutter. A simple no was all he could push out. You don't know bucky well, but the look he's sporting is enough for you to stop asking any more questions.

The clock reads 9:30. Shit.

“Fuck. work, I forgot about work.” you stand from your chair abruptly, the wooden chairs scraping against the floor. “I- we gotta go.”

I have nowhere to go, bucky thinks quickly. Before standing up with you, he doesn't say anything.

Grabbing both of your cups and chucking them in the trash, before returning the books to the counter. Bucky just stands there awkwardly, watching you. You notice and mumble a quick, “stalker” under your breath. Bucky pushes back a small grin. You gab his metal hand, covered by a glove, and push something into his hand. a key?

Bucky's eyebrows furrow but before he can get anything out. “You can't possibly think I’ll feel good knowing my soulmate is out on the run, probably sleeping behind some dumpster like a raccoon?”

“My roommate doesn't get home till tomorrow, and use the door his time!”

And with that, you’re speed-walking out, a soft jingle from the door as it closes. Bucky stands dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe as he blankly stares at the key in his gloved palm. His legs feel like jello. A soft cough from behind bucky brings him back to earth, it's the old man.

“Don't break their heart, I may be old and..” the old man, you said his name was Gary, looks bucky up and down. “...you may be big, but I'm sure I got a good right hook in here somewhere.”

Bucky feels warm and normal. Like he was a 15-year-old boy meeting his date's dad again. Bucky nods.

“I promise I will keep ‘em safe.”

tag list; @i-l-y-3000 @ivywasmaroon @waywardcrow @alana4610 @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #sebastian stan x reader

150 notes · View notes