#maple corners her and attacks her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

velvetm00light · 11 months ago

Text

Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n's dog tackles a handsome stranger in Central Park. As her and the stranger spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, they part too soon and without even telling each other their names. The solution appears quickly in the form of a handsome, lanky man appearing at her apartment the next morning.

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: I accidentally posted this on my primary that I don't use a few days ago so I decided to just reupload it here. Thought ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

THE GOLDEN LEAVES RUSTLED along the cracked sidewalk, towering mixtures of trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching for each other, the Creation of Adam painting itself in the nature around her. Her charcoal boots thudded lightly, the sound overtaken by the rush of bicycles and the flutter of passing conversations as she strolled through Central Park. The leash in her hand was rough against her soft palms. The dog at her side trotted happily, smiling at the strangers rushing past.

As a native to New York, the city specifically, she made a habit of spending most of the daylight she could spare exploring the park. A habit that proved almost impossible to break because no matter how many times her feet walked the same sidewalk, her eyes took in the same leaves in all seasons - lush green in the spring and summer, amber and fiery red in the autumn, and withered and crunchy spread across the sidewalks and grass in the winter - there was no where else she could truly feel peace.

Peace has been a complicated thing to find her entire life. As soon as she felt it in her grasp, it became sand slipping through the cracks between her fingers before she could even close her fist in an attempt to capture as much as she could. But, that sand turned into the soft wool of her favorite coat as she pulled it tighter around her in an attempt to warm herself. Peace became tangible the moment she threw her coat on, strapped on her pup’s harness, and made her way to her safe place.

She was snapped out her thoughts by a sudden yank on her arm, the soft grip on the leash in her hand gave way before she could consider tightening her hand. Her gaze snapped to her now sprinting pup, heading in the direction of a red maple tree just a few yards to the right of the trail they had been walking. She didn’t allow herself time for confusion on why her normally calm and behaved pup had randomly chosen to run off.

Her lungs burned as cold air pressed into her lungs as she ran in the same direction. Her confusion only grew when she neared the maple to see her dog bouncing onto a man sitting against the trunk of the tree, a thick blanket underneath him and the book in his hands flung into the grass. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called, slowing her speed as she reached the poor man who was just tackled by her dog. “He’s never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

She grabbed his book from the dewy grass and laid it on the blanket next to him. “I’m so sorry about your book, it got kind of wet. I’ll give you the money for it,” she apologized, reaching into the pack strapped across her chest to rummage for any loose cash.

“Don’t worry about it, my books are definitely worse for wear normally.” His smile was bright, contagious. A smile crept up on her face, the corners of her lips tugging insistently upward as her hands abandoned her pack.

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

The cover of the book she had laid on his blanket was in fact worse for wear. It was curled up at the edges as if this wasn’t the first time it had gotten wet. The spine was so cracked the book almost splayed open just laying on the blanket, the wind a gentle hand trying to pull it fully open.

“I’m glad someone else’s copy of The Fisher King looks similar to mine.” She smiled, her eyes lingering on the blemished book then to his face. Her dog had finally calmed down, splayed next to the stranger with his belly up. He ran slender fingers up and down her pup’s belly.

The first thing that caught her eye was his eyes. There was a flaming halo of amber, with a dirty, leather brown inside. His eyes reminded him of an old leather book - worn with love, pen marks torn through the pages with passion. The sweater vest he was wearing and the circular glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose established her thought - he just looked like he belonged in a library, reaching for outdated texts, sitting in a poorly lit corner, stacks of books hiding his bowed head from view as he endlessly read books upon books for hours.

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

“I personally like Shadowlands better,” she teased. It wasn’t a lie, however. She had always been a sucker for romances - it certainly raised her standards unrealistically, but it’s not her fault fictional men are so much better than real ones. “And you can never go wrong with Les Misérables but it feels cliché to say that’s my favorite.”

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I don’t mind at all, have a seat.” He pulled his legs up, sitting cross legged instead of stretched out like he had been. She copied his posture as she plopped down on the blanket with him and her attention whore of a dog - understandably, because if she had seen him first, she might’ve just ran over and demanded he touch her too.

“Who’s your favorite author?” She asked, placing her elbow ontop of her knee and resting her chin in her hand. She titled her head to the side, and his smile returned slightly at the image of her - innocent and sweet.

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“Love is our true destiny,” she began. His eyes sparkled as he joined in on her recitement from Love and Living. “We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“Your words, not mine.” She smiled back, it was impossible not to smile back at him. She felt like the only person in the entire world when he smiled at her, like she was truly the only thing that mattered. A heat bloomed in her neck and rose into her wind-kissed cheeks. She hoped the cold prick of the wind rubbing her cheeks raw hid the redness heating her face.

Their conversation about literature continued, both of them talking animatedly and rushed, as if the amount of time they had with each other would never be enough. It was a shocking revelation for them both to realize how much in common they had and how effortlessly the conversation between them flowed, like they weren’t really strangers at all.

The sun had begun to set, laying over the horizon as if slowing it’s own process down to give them just a little bit longer. The chill had picked up as the sunlight turned into dusk but neither of them really noticed until the park was empty and hungry whines escaped her dog.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

The stranger gathered his blanket and his book, shoving both in between his arm, following her lead out of the park and towards her apartment. Her teeth chattered so harshly it rattled her skull. The sun had set, becoming impatient waiting for them to finally part.

Without a word, the man her dog had jumped on just a few hours ago unwrapped the blanket from under his arm and laid it across her shoulders. “It might be a little dirty but I put the upside on you.”

“Thank you, my jacket has seen better days anyway,” she smiled, pulling the thick wool around her, engulfing her like a hug. She sighed of relief at the warmth it provided her chilled bones. They walked in easy silence, sneaking occasional glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

“Mostly. I grew up just outside of the city but it’s close enough. You don’t look like you grew up in the city,” she teased. Her dog trotting beside her sleepily but eager to get home for dinner. Her grumbling stomach agreed with her dog’s eagerness.

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. His laugh was just like his smile - infectious. If he laughed, anyone around him wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from laughing along even if nothing was funny. When he laughed hard, his eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back slightly. When he laughed lightly, he had small wrinkles at the side of his eyes, and he always had that toothy grin. It startled her to realize that in the few hours she knew him, she already knew this much about his mannerisms.

Too soon, they reached her apartment building’s door. She fished out her keys from her pack, her pup pushing his head up to the door, ready to kick it down if he had human legs. “Thank you so much again for walking me home. I hope you’re not too far, it’s pretty dark out now.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

She plopped onto the couch in her cramped living room and let out a sigh she had no idea she was holding in. Then the realization hit her, she didn’t even ask for his name or how to contact him. She groaned. Of course she would be stupid enough to let the only guy she’s had a connection with in years slip through her fingers.

The rising sun shone through her living room curtains, spilling like honey over her face. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion fogging her brain for a moment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch though she wasn’t sure when she even fell asleep. A book laid open, splayed on the hardwood floor next to her couch. This is a familiar scene she sees way more often than she’s willing to admit. There’s no greater way to relax than to read a good book in ambient lighting. It had started raining shortly after she got home last night, the hard patters of rain drops hitting her window. That was enough to cause her to pass out before even finishing a chapter.

She was abruptly snapped out of her daze as her intercom buzzed. Her confusion deepened, completely unsure if she was expecting anyone this morning or if she had overslept and missed a meeting. When the second buzz rang through her apartment, she rushed over to answer it. “Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, I’m sorry uh..I’m the guy your dog tackled in the park yesterday.” If she could see his face, she’s pretty sure he’d have a nervous smile on it. His hand running anxiously through his curls, hoping he buzzed the right apartment and desperately hoping she didn’t feel uncomfortable at him showing up.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in quickly and realized the state she was in. She rapidly ran her fingers through her knotted hair, combing through as many knots as she could in the time it took him to reach her front door. She straightened her clothes, the same ones she had gone to the park in minus the coat hanging by her front door. She rushed over to pick up the book from the floor, setting it gently on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

A soft knock rattled her front door and she rushed over to it, fixing her hair and clothes again before pulling it open. “Hi,” she breathed, her chest suddenly too tight. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, he was the one who showed up to her apartment.

“Hi,” he responded, a sheepish smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, as if to keep himself from fidgeting in front of her, a feign of confidence. “Sorry for showing up randomly.” He finished quickly, realizing she was waiting for him to explain himself.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s actually the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she smiled, gazing around her apartment with him. She had a variety of plants scattered around her apartment - large potted plants that reached toward the ceiling in the corners, small plants in decorated pots lining shelves, settled on her coffee table, and even in her kitchen. She always assumed having fresh air to combat the natural stench of New York City was never a bad idea. She had posters and picture frames hung up with precision, decorative throw pillows scattered on her couch from a night tossing and turning, bookshelves filled to the brim with books, plants, and trinkets.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Perfect.” She rummaged through her cabinets in search for tea, it would be slightly embarrassing to have run out of tea bags after she already asked if he wanted tea. Thankfully, she found a few loose boxes of tea and made steaming cups for them both.

She carried the tea out carefully so as to not burn herself or spill any on the floor beneath her bare feet. She gently handed him his cup which he gratefully took and cupped between two palms, waiting for it to cool.

She settled in the seat next to him on the couch, copying his actions and cupping the warm cup between her hands. Her apartment luckily didn’t feel like the outside world with the biting wind and the bone-chilling cold, but, this man’s presence was enough to send a shiver rattling down her spine and goosebumps rising along her flesh.

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

“Of course, I’m sure any normal host would offer tea, it felt like the socially acceptable thing to do.” She gave him a small smile back, just enough to lift the edges of her lips upward, but not enough to bare her teeth.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound reverberated around her apartment. Her mind betrayed her and thoughts of that laugh just swimming around her apartment on a regular basis caused an ache in her chest. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment in probably years, most likely for the best.

Her work was her life, she had the terrible habit of drowning in her work when life got rough, or when her feelings got inevitably hurt. She almost wanted to kick this gorgeous man out of her apartment before he could hurt her feelings or disappoint her like the rest.

“I’m sorry for showing up randomly,” he started, rubbing his sweaty palms across the legs of his jeans. “I never got your name or your contact information so I hope I’m not crossing any lines by coming by.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

She nodded slowly - she knew exactly what he meant. She had thought the same thing as she sat on her couch just hours ago, turning the events of their meeting over and over again in head, as if it was a coin in her hand.

“It was just…easy. Peaceful.” He smiled sheepishly. She relaxed into the couch. Peace. It was all she ever wanted in life and she tried tirelessly to keep control of it, to stuff it in a cage and keep it locked up so she could never feel its absence again. With him sitting in her apartment in front of her, she felt like she didn’t even have to try to reach out and grab it, it ran into her arms like a friend.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

374 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 1 year ago

Note

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

#werewolf farmer #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley fic #rowan the werewolf #farmer rowan #ask me anything #wip

111 notes · View notes

layce2015 · 1 year ago

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

I Believe The Children Are Our Future

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

"Agents Page, Lee and Plant, FBI." I introduced to the doctor as the boys and I show him our badges. "Gentlemen and lady. What brings you by?" the doctor asked us. "We need to see Amber Freer's body." Sam said. "Really? What for?" the doctor asked us. "The police report said something clawed through her skull?" Dean said, questioning. "You didn't read the autopsy report that I emailed out this morning?" The Doctor asked us, catching us off guard.

"W-we had, uh, server issues." I said and the doctor walks away, we follow him.

The doctor opens one of the freezers and pulls out the slab with Amber's body. He tosses back the sheet from her head. "When they brought her in, we thought she was attacked by a wolf or something." He explain. "Or something." I said, raising an eyebrow. "But we were wrong." the doctors said and he picks up a plastic bag from the slab and shows it to us.

"Is that a—" Sam said and the Doctor nods. "It's a press-on nail. We found it in her temporal lobe." he said. "Is that even possible?" I asked him. "Wait, are you—you saying that she did this to herself?" Dean asked the Doctor. "Uh-huh. She scratched her brains out. It'd take hours, and it'd hurt like hell, but sure—it's possible." The Doctor said.

"How?" Dean asked. "Pick your acronym—OCD, PCP. It all spells crazy." the doctor said as Sam pulls back the sheet a little further. Amber's right hand has four press-on nails still attached; the middle finger has nothing. "My guess, some kind of phantom itch. I mean, an extreme case, but..." The Doctor said. "Phantom itch?" Sam asked. "Yup." the Doctor said and he covers Amber's head and slides the slab back into the freezer, closing the door.

"All it takes is someone talking about an itch—or thinking about one, even—and suddenly you can't stop scratching." he said and I nod. "Thanks, doc." I said as Sam scratches under his collar, Dean scratches his ear and I scratch the back of my head.

Later, we were in Jimmy's house and Sam was sitting in the armchair in the living room, holding a notebook and pen, and Jimmy's father and Francine are sitting on the sofa. Dean and I wander around behind them. "Okay. Okay, now, some of these questions might seem a bit odd, but please just bear with me. Have you noticed any cold spots in the house?" Sam asked them. "Uh...no." Jimmy's dad said, a look of confusion on his face.

"Okay, uh, what about strange smells?" Sam asked as Dena and I look around the corner to see Jimmy. "Whatcha lookin' for?" he asked us. "Don't know yet." Dean said as I walk up to Jimmy. "It's, uh, Jimmy, right?" I asked and he nods.

"So, Amber was your babysitter?" I asked him. "Yes, ma'am." He said. "Yeah, most of my babysitters sucked. Especially Ms. Chancey. She only cared about two things. Dynasty and bedtime." Dean said before he chuckles and I roll my eyes.

"Did you, uh, you see anything strange that night?" I asked Jimmy. "No, ma'am." Jimmy said. "You sure about that?" Dean asked. "I—I would tell you if I knew something." he said and Dean and I look at the kid. "I promise. One hundred percent. Cross my heart." Jimmy said and Dean looks back over his shoulder, then back at Jimmy.

"Well, Jimmy, I, uh...I happen to know you're lying." Dean said to him and Jimmy looks a bit terrified. "I'm not." Jimmy said and Dean leans down and puts a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "We gonna start talking truth, or are you and me gonna have to take a little trip downtown?" Dean asked him and Jimmy gives us, wide eyes.

Later, the boys and I were leaving when Dean holds up a packet of itching powder. "Kid said he put this on the babysitter's hairbrush." Dean said to Sam. "Dean, there's no way itching powder made that girl scratch her brains out. It's just ground-up maple seeds." Sam said. "If you have any other theories, we're open to 'em." I said as a cell phone rings.

Sam pulls his out and answers it while Dean opens the back driver side door of the Impala for me. "Aw, such a gentleman." I said to him as I climb in and Dean smiles then shuts the door and gets into the driver's seat. "Yeah? ...Yeah, we'll be right there." Sam said as he goes around the car.

Back at the hospital, a nurse zips up a body bag and he and another nurse roll it out of the room while the Doctor watches from the corridor as we come up behind him. "What happened?" Sam asked him. "Guy got electrocuted." the doctor replied as he turns to us.

"Any idea how?" Dean asked. "Eh, maybe a loose wire or a piece of equipment shorted out. So far, we haven't found anything." the doctor said. "Witnesses?" I asked. "Yeah, guy in there—Mr. Stanley." the doctor said as he points to an old man sitting in a chair in the room, looking out the window. "He says he saw it, but he's not making a lick of sense. Senile." the doctor said said. "Thanks." Sam said and we enter the room as the doctor leaves.

"Um, Mr. Stanley?" Sam asked as we walk up to the old man. "It was just a joke. I didn't know it would really work." Stanley said, upset. "What would work?" Dean asked him and Stanley looks at Dean. "All I did was shake his hand." he said and he holds out his hand, showing us that he is holding a joy buzzer.

At the motel, Dean puts on a pair of goggles and a pair of gloves, then adjusts the goggles and picks up the joy buzzer. He looks at the joy buzzer for a moment, then turns to me and Sam. "You ready?" Dean asked us. "Hit it, Mr. Wizard." I said as Sam and I hold another pair of goggles to our eyes.

There is a large uncooked ham in two stacked aluminum-foil pans sitting on the table in front of Dean. Dean holds the joy buzzer over the ham, hesitates, and presses it to the ham. Electricity crackles and steam rises from the ham as it changes color.

When the ham is blackened, Dean removes the joy buzzer and the ham sizzles. Sam and I lower the goggles and gawk as Dean flips up the dark-plastic visor on the goggles. "That'll do, pig." he mutters. "What the hell?" Sam said, shocked.

Dean takes off the goggles, still staring at the now-cooked ham. "That crap isn't supposed to work." I said. "This thing doesn't even have batteries." Dean said as he takes off one glove and removes the other.

"So...so, what? Are—are we looking at cursed objects?" I asked. "Sounds good." Dean said as he pulls out a knife, flips it open, and cuts a piece off the ham. "Maybe there's a powerful witch in town." he said and he eats the piece of ham. "Is there any link between the, uh, the joy buzzer and the itching powder?" he asked us as I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, one was made in China, the other Mexico, but they were both bought from the same store." Sam said as Dean cuts off another piece of ham. "Hmm." Dean hums then he holds up the piece of ham. Sam and I shake our heads and Dean proceeds to eat the ham.

We enter a joke shop and the door chimes as we walk in. Someone laughs and the door chimes again as we walk around. "Guys!" Dean said as he picks up a whoopee cushion and holds it up, grinning. Sam sighs and shakes his head, turning away. "You are such a child." I said to Dean as he goes and brings the whoopee cushion up to the checkout counter, which has a display of rubber chickens next to it.

Then an older gentleman comes out of the back room. "Welcome to the Conjurarium, sanctum of magic and mystery." he said as Sam and I come up to the counter. "You the owner?" Sam asked him. "Yep." the man said. "You sold any itching powder or joy buzzers lately?" Dean asked him. "Yeah, a grand total of one of each. They aren't exactly big-ticket items. Look, you three here to buy something or what?" the owner asked us.

Dean pulls some cash out of his wallet, holds up the whoopee cushion, and hands the owner the cash. "So, you get many customers?" I asked him. "Kids come in. They don't buy much, but they're more than happy to break stuff. These days, all they care about are their iPhones and those kissing-vampire movies. The whole thing makes me just—" the owner said then Dean finishes his sentence. "Angry?" he asked.

The Owner pauses, then nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I am angry. This shop has been my life for twenty years, and now it's wasting away to nothing." he said. "Which is why you hate them." Dean said. "I suppose." The owner said, shrugging. "You wish there was something you could do about it." Dean said. "Yeah, I guess I do." the owner said.

"So you're taking revenge." Dean accuses as he pulls a rubber chicken off the display and slaps it down on the counter. "With this." he said and he holds up the joy buzzer and presses it to the rubber chicken, electricity crackles. The Owner yelps and leaps back. "Oh! No!" he screams as the rubber chicken melts.

The owner stares, making inarticulate noises, while the boys and I watch him. "Yeah, something tells me this guy is not a powerful witch." I said. "Sorry. Sorry." Dean said to him and we leave.

The next day, Sam and I leave the hospital room with this man who had his teeth pulled and head to the corridor where Dean was talking to a nurse, who was obviously checking him out.

She leaves as Sam and I approach Dean, who turns to us. "What's up with Toothless? Cavity creeps get ahold of him?" he asked us. "Yeah. Close. He wrote up a description." Sam said and he reads from his notebook. "Five foot ten, three hundred fifty pounds, wings, and a pink tutu. Said it was the tooth fairy." Sam said and Dean narrows his eyes in confusion.

"So he's obviously whacked out on painkillers." He said. "Maybe. Whatever it was got past locked doors and windows without triggering the alarm." I said, shrugging. "Come on. Tooth fairy?" Dean said, disbelieving. "And it left thirty-two quarters underneath his pillow. One for each tooth." Sam said and Dean nods.

"Well, I will see your crazy and raise you some. There's a couple of kids upstairs with stomach ulcers—say they got it from mixing Pop Rocks and Coke. Another guy...his face...froze that way." Dean said. "What way?" I asked. Dean looks in all directions, then pulls out the sides of his mouth and crosses his eyes. He holds it for a moment and lets go.

"He, uh, held it too long, and it—it stuck. They're flying in a plastic surgeon." Dean said as he pokes at his cheeks and wiggles his chin. "So, I mean, if you add all that up..." Sam hesitates and Dean and I raise our eyebrows. "I got nothing." Sam said and he starts down the hallway past Dean, who turns around to walk alongside him, I follow.

"I thought sea-monkeys were real." Dean said. "They are. They're brine shrimp." I said. "No, no, no, I mean like in the ads. You know, like the sea-monkey wife cooks the pot roast for the sea-monkey husband, and the sea-monkey kids play with the dog in a sea-monkey castle—real. I mean, I was six, but I believed it." Dean said. "Okay." Sam said, unsure where Dean was going with this.

"Point is..." Dean said and he stops. Sam and I stop and turn to him. "Maybe that's the connection. The tooth fairy, the Pop Rocks and Coke, the joy buzzer that shocks you—they're all lies that kids believe." Dean said. "And now they're coming true. Okay, so whatever's doing this is—is reshaping reality. It has the powers of a god. Or—" Sam stops and I roll my eyes. "—of a trickster." I added and Sam nods.

"Yeah, with the sense of humor of a nine-year-old." Dean said. "Or you." I add and Sam laughs and we walk off.

Later, Sam and I come into the motel room to see Dean sitting at the table, taking a bit out of a sandwich, obviously made from that ham he cooked. "Dude, seriously—still with the ham?" Sam asked as he holds up the map we found. "We don't have a fridge." Dean replied, through the mouthful of food he had.

"Hey, don't talk with your mouth full." I scolded him as I shut the door and Sam puts the map down in front of Dean. "Well, we found something." Sam said and Dean stands up for a better view. Sam points to a red X on the map for every incident. "Um, tooth fairy attack was here, Pop Rocks and Coke was here, then you've got itching powder, face freeze, and joy buzzer—all located within a two-mile radius." Sam explains as he indicates the area containing all the red X's.

"So, we got a blast zone of weird, and inside, fantasy becomes reality." Dean said. "Looks like." I said, nodding. "And what's the A-bomb at its center?" Dean asked. "Four acres of farmland...and a house." I said and Dean looks between me and Sam.

A mail truck drives past the house and past the Impala, as we pull up and park. The boys and I, wearing suits, get out and cross the street, walking up to the house. Dean checks Ruby's knife, which is tucked into his belt. Sam bends down to pick the lock, but straightens up in a hurry when the door opens, revealing a young boy.

"Can I help you?" He asked us. "Hi. Uh, what's your name?" I asked him. "Who wants to know?" the boy asked, suspiciously, and Dean, Sam and I glance at each other.

"The, uh..." Dean said then he clears his throat and pulls out his badge, showing it to the boy while Sam and I go for our badges. "FBI." Dean said as we hold up our badges. "Let me see that." the boy said as he takes Dean's badge and examines then hands it back.

"So, what, you guys don't knock?" he asked us as Sam and I put our badges away. "Are your parents home?" I asked him. "They work." the boy replied. "Well, you mind if we ask you a few questions, maybe take a look around the house?" Sam asked. "I don't know." the boy said.

"Come on. You can trust us. We're the authorities." Dean said as he holds up his badge again but the boy looked unimpressed. He glances between us as we try to smile reassuringly.

The boy leads us into his house as he goes to the kitchen and turns off the stove, where there was a pot of food boiling. We follow him into the kitchen, looking around. "What's that?" Sam asked, nodding to the pot. "It's called soup." the boy replied as he takes the pot off the stove. "You heat it up and you eat it." he said, sounding like it was obvious, and Sam chuckles.

"Right. I, I know. It's just, um...I used to make my own dinner, too, when I was a kid." Sam said. "Well, I'm not a kid." the boy grumbles as Dean notices the artwork on the fridge.

"Right. No, I, I know. Um..." Sam stammers then he holds out a hand. "I'm Robert, by the way." he introduced and the boys shakes his hand and then I hold mine out. "And I'm Sheila." I said and he takes my hand. "Jesse." the kid said.

"Jesse, nice to meet you." I said as Dean steps closer, holding a picture of a bearded man with pink wings and tutu. "Did you draw this?" he asked and Jesse turns to him and nods. "It's the tooth fairy." he states.

"That's what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?" Dean asked. "Yeah. My dad told me about him." Jesse said and Dean glances at me and Sam. "Huh." Dean huffs. "What, didn't your dad tell you about the tooth fairy?" Jesse asked him. "My dad?" Dean chuckles. "My dad told me different stories." he said. "Well, the tooth fairy isn't a story." Jesse said, firmly.

"What do you know about itching powder, Jesse?" I asked him. "That stuff will make you scratch your brains out." Jesse said. "Pop Rocks and Coke?" Dean asked. "You mix them, and you'll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that." Jesse said then Dean pulls the joy buzzer out of his pocket and holds it up.

"You shouldn't have that." Jesse said. "Why not?" Dean asked. "It can electrocute you." Jesse said. "Actually, it can't. It's just a wind-up toy. It's totally harmless. Doesn't even have batteries." Dean said. "So it can't shock you?" Jesse asked. "Nope. Not at all. I swear." Dean said. "Oh. Okay." Jesse said.

"I mean, all it does is just shake in your hand. It's kind of lame. See?" Dean said and he presses the joy buzzer to Sam's chest. It buzzes and Sam stiffens up and turns to Dean, looking murderous, while I hold back my laughter.

"What did you say your name was, again?" Dean asked Jesse.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam asked Dean as we leave Jesse's house. "I had a hunch. I went with it." Dean said. "You risked my ass on a hunch?" Sam asked him, angrily. "You're fine." Dean said, not worried, and I roll my eyes. "Besides, now we know who's turning this town into Willy Wonka's worst nightmare." I said. "The kid." Sam said and he stops and so does me and Dean.

"Yeah. Everything Jesse believes comes true. He thinks the tooth fairy looks like Belushi, uh, joy buzzers really shock people, boom, that's what happens." Dean said. "Yeah, but convince him the joy buzzers don't actually work, and they go from killing machines back into crap toys." Sam said. "He probably doesn't even know he's doing it." I said and we look back at the house.

The curtains on an upstairs window part and Jesse looks out at us and Dean waves. "How is he doing it?" Dean asked as we walk away.

Back at the motel, I was sitting on a bed, watching TV, while Dean was reading some book. Sam had just left to go do some research on Jesse, so it was just me and Dean here. I flipped through the channels until I found this channel that played Dr. Sexy, MD. I smiled and left it on as I continued to watch it.

Dean raises his head to the TV just as a nurse grabs the collar of the doctor's white coat. "Please, doctor, it has to be you. You have to save this boy. If you don't, then..." She said, in a exaggerated dramatic manner. "You'll what?" The doctor asked, also dramatic. "I'll quit this job." She said.

"Oh, God, you gotta be kidding me." Dean grumbles. "What? Have to keep up with my stories." I said. "You are such a girl." Dean said. "Well, last I checked...I am a girl." I said. “Yeah, but you’re like a badass hunter girl. When did you become a rom-com girl?” Dean asked. “I don’t know. When did you become a cartoon smut girl?” I asked.

“It’s called anime and it’s an art form.” Dean said, defensively. I rolled my eyes and turn back to the TV. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” He said. “I could say the same to you.” I replied, pointing the remote towards the TV.

Dean look at it and scoffs. “You can’t be serious.” He said, annoyed. “I have the remote, I pick the show, and you shut your cakehole.” I said, tapping his nose with the remote.

Dean shakes his head and begins watching Dr. Sexy with me, annoyed. After a couple scenes, the doctor and the nurse started making out in the on-call room and Dean sits forward, completely riveted. "Alright, now we're talking." He said and I laugh. "Of course, that would get your attention I laughed and Dean turns his head to me.

"Well, you didn't say there was sex scenes." He said, a bit of a smirk on his lips. "My God, you are the horniest man I've ever met." I said and Dean looks over at me, a mischievous grin on his face. "And it's never gonna change, princess." Dean said and I scoff out a laugh. "I would hope not, otherwise you'd explode." I said.

At that moment, Sam walks in and I turn the TV off. "So, dug up what I could on Jesse Turner. It's not much. Uh, B student, won last year's Pinewood Derby. But get this. Jesse was adopted. His birth records are sealed." Sam explained as he shuts the door behind him.

"So you unsealed them, and?" Dean asked. "There's no father listed, but Jesse's biological mom is named Julia Wright. She lives in Elk Creek, on the other side of the state." Sam said and Dean and I share a look. "Sounds like a road trip." I said and we get up and head out.

A sign reading "NO TRESPASSING" hangs on the gate of a rusty, overgrown fence. Deqn pushes the gate open and walks through, Sam and I right behind. We walk around to the front door, which has two deadbolts, and Dean rings the doorbell. Then a voice, probably Julia, speaks through the door without opening

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested." She said and Dean looks at us for a moment. "We're not salesmen. Agents Page, Lee and Plant, FBI." Dean said as we pull out our badges and hold them up to the peephole. "Put your badge in the slot. Your partners', too." Julia said and Dean does as she asked.

There was a pause before we head the locks clatter and the door opens, revealing a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and she looked tired and frazzled. "What do you want?" Julia asked as she hands out badges back.

"Um..." Sam said as we put our badges away. "We just had a few questions. About your son." Sam said. "I don't have a son." Julia said. "He was born March twenty-ninth, nineteen ninety-eight, in Omaha." Sam said and Julia looks up, her face expressionless. "You put him up for adoption?" Sam said and Julia sighs.

"What about him?" she asked. "We were just wondering, um, was it...was it a normal pregnancy?" I asked and she says nothing. "Was there anything strange?" Dean asked then Julia slams the door.

"Stay away from me!" she shouts. "Mrs. Wright, wait!" Dean said then he pushes the door open and we follow Julia inside. She runs to the kitchen and shuts the door, but Dean pushes the door open. "We just want to talk!" Dean said as Julia grabs a canister of table salt, wrenches it open, and tosses the contents at us. She stares at us as if she expected something to happen to us.

"You're not demons?" She asked us. "How do you know about demons?" I asked her and she looks down at the floor.

Later, Julia sits at the table with a cup of tea, the boys and I sit across from her. She sets the cup on a saucer and folds her arms. "I was possessed. A demon took control of my body, and I hurt people. I killed people." she said. "That, that wasn't you." Sam said. "But I was there. I heard a woman beg for mercy. I...felt a young girl's blood drip down my hands." Julia said, her voice shaking.

"That's how you knew about the salt." Dean said. "Yeah, I picked up tricks. It was in my head for months." Julia said. "How many months?" I asked her. "Nine." she replied. "So your son..." Sam said, realizing, and Julia nods. "Yeah, the whole time. The pregnancy, birth—all of it. I was possessed. The night the baby was born, I was alone. And the pain was—the pain was overwhelming. I, I screamed, and it came out a laugh, because the demon was happy. It used my body to give birth to a child. When it was over, something changed. Maybe the—the demon was tired or if the pain helped me fight it, but...Somehow, I took control. And the demon wailed inside me. It pounded against my skull. I thought my head was gonna explode. But I knew. I knew what I had to do. And when I was alone with the baby...A part of me...part of me wanted to kill it." Julia explains then she begins to cry.

"But, God help me, I couldn't do that. So, I put it up for adoption, and I ran." She said. "Who was the father?" Dean asked her. "I was a virgin." Julia said and the boys and I look at each other, worried.

"Have you seen my son? Is he human?" She asked us. "His name's Jesse. He lives in, uh, Alliance. He's a good kid." I said and Julia nods.

"So, now what?" Sam asked as we leave her house. "We need help." Dean said as he pulls out his phone.

Sometime later, we enter the motel room and look up to see Castiel waiting for us. "I take it you got our message." Sam said as he sits at the table and Dean closes the door. "It's lucky you found the boy." Castiel said. "Oh, yeah, real lucky." Dean said, sarcastically.

"What do we do with him?" I asked Castiel. "Kill him." he said, plainly, and we all stop and stare at him, shocked. "Cas." Dean mutters. "This child is half demon and half human, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures call this hybrid cambion or katako. You know him as the antichrist." Castiel said and he sits at the table, where a fart noise sounds out. It continues as poor Cas shifts positions.

"That wasn't me." Castiel said as he pulls out a whoopee cushion. "Who put that there?" Dean asked and I elbow his side while Cas tosses the whoopee cushion aside.

"Anyway, I don't get it. Jesse is the devil's son?" Sam asked and Cas sighs. "No, of course not. Your Bible gets more wrong than it does right. The antichrist is not Lucifer's child. It's just demon spawn. But it is one of the devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven." he said.

"Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?" I asked. "The demons lost him. They can't find him. But they're looking." Castiel explains. "And they lost him because?" Dean asked. "Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons. For now." Castiel said.

"So he's got, like, a force field around him. Well, that's great. Problem solved." Dean said. "With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him. The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. And then, with a word, this child will destroy the Host of Heaven." Castiel explains.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. You're saying that—that Jesse's gonna nuke the angels?" I asked him and Cas nods. "We cannot allow that to happen." said Castiel. "Wait." Sam said, standing up. "We're the good guys. We—we don't just—kill children." Sam said. "A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war." Castiel growls at Sam. "Things change." Sam said as Dean and I step forward, DwN puts a hand on Sam's arm and he and I put ourselves between Sam and Castiel.

"Okay. Hey, look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here either. We know that. So...we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do." Dean said. "You'll kidnap him? What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world." Castiel said. "So we—" Dean started to say but I interrupt him.

"So we tell him the truth. You say Jesse's destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn't yet." I said to Castiel. "Exactly! So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice." Sam said and there was a long silence.

"You didn't. And I can't take that chance." Castiel said to him and Sam glares at him as Castiel vanishes. "Damn it." Sam sighs.

We make our way to Jesse's house and kick in the front door to see Jesse standing there, staring at us. "Was there a guy here? In a trench coat?" Dean asked him and Jesse points at the floor: there is an action figure wearing Castiel's suit and trench coat and holding a silver knife.

Dean kneels to pick him up and looks up at me and Sam, then Jesse. He then sets the Castiel action figure on the mantelpiece as Jesse sits on the couch, Sam on a chair and I sit next to Jesse.

"Was he your friend?" Jesse asked, nodding to the Castiel action figure. "Him? No." Dean said. "I did that. But how did I do that?" Jesse asked. "You're a superhero." Dean said and Jesse looks up at him. "I am?" he asked. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman—minus the cape and the go-go boots. See, my—my partners and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil." Dean said and Jesse seemed to perk up at this.

"Like the X-Men?" He asked. "Exactly like the X-Men." Dean chuckles. "In fact, the, uh, guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. You'll get the girl. Sounds like fun, right?" Dean asked him until he is flung against the wall.

"They're lying to you." a female voice said and Sam and I turn and stand up to see Julia walking in, she was possessed. The demon flings us against the wall with Dean. Jesse stands up.

"Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Orders. You, on the other hand? Hurting you's encouraged." The demon said and she flicks her wrist and slams Dean against the opposite wall, then back. "Leave him alone!" Jesse yells and the Demon leans down to Jesse, speaking sweetly.

"Jesse. You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes." She said. "Who are you?" Jesse asked. "I'm your mother." The demon said. "No, you're not." Jesse spat. "Mm-hm. You're half human...half one of us." she said. "She means demons, Jesse!" I yelled and the demon straightens and holds up a hand clenched into a fist, making me groan in pain.

The Demon leans back down to Jesse. "Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You're not theirs—not really." she said. "My mom and dad love me." Jesse growls, defensively. "Do they? Is—is that why they leave you alone all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. You've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you. They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero." the demon said.

"Then what am I?" Jesse asked. "You're powerful. You can have anything you want. You can do anything you want." the demon said to him. "Don't listen to her, Jesse!" Dean yells and the demons holds up a hand and Dean groans.

"They treated you like a child. Nobody trusted you. Everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?" The demon asked Jesse as she turns back to him and Jesse clenches his fist, the room begins to rattle. The Demon looks up, exultant, and the fire flares up and the lights flicker.

"See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse." the demon said as things begin to shatter. "Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies." the demon said.

"She's right. We lied to you." Sam said and the Demon looks at Sam, eyes black. "But I'll tell you the truth." Sam said and the demon raises a fist and Sam struggles to speak. "I just want...to tell..." Sam gasps.

"Stop it." Jesse said and Sam drops to the floor, released, and he gasps in breath. "I want to hear what he has to say." Jesse said to the Demon. "You're stronger than I thought." the demon said, surprised, as Sam stands up.

"We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean, and my friend (y/n) (l/n). W-we hunt monsters." Sam said. "Except when you are the monster. Right, Sammy?" the demon sneered but Sam ignores her. "And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to—it's a demon." Sam said.

"A demon?" Jesse asked. "He's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him. Punish him." the demon growled and Jesse turns to her. "Sit down and shut up." Jesse demanded and a chair scoots up behind the Demon, who is forced into it, silent. She struggles to speak.

"There's, uh, kind of a...a war between angels and demons, and...you're a part of it." Sam goes to explain. "I'm just a kid." Jesse said. "You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do...millions of people will die." Sam said. "She said I was half demon. Is that true?" Jesse asked. "Yes. But you're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life." Sam said.

"Why are you telling me this?!" Jesse asked him, upset. "Because I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn't." Sam said and Jesse thinks about this. He clenches his fist and looks at the Demon. "Get out of her." Jesse demands and the chair flies back against the wall.

Black smoke pours out of Julia's mouth and vanishes up the chimney. Then Dean and I drop to the ground, panting. "How did you do that?" I asked him. "I just did." Jesse said, shrugging. "Kid...you're awesome." Dean said and Jesse smiled a bit before he looks over at Julia, slumped in the chair.

"Is she gonna be all right?" he asked and Dean goes to look at her. "Eventually." he said then he leans down and picks up the Castiel action figure, which fell down at some point. "Look, uh, truth is, he's kind of a buddy of mine. Is there any way you could turn him back?" Dean asked Jesse. "He tried to kill me." Jesse said. "Right. Uh. But he's a—he's a good guy. He was just confused." Dean said but Jesse says nothing.

"Okay. It's been a long night. We'll...talk about it later." Dean said and he puts the Castiel action figure back on the mantel. "What now?" Jesse asked and Dean looks at me and Sam. "Now we take you someplace safe, get you trained up. You'd be handy in a fight, kid." Dean replied.

"What if I don't want to fight?" Jesse asked and I frown. "Jesse." I said, softly, and I come forward to sit in front of him. "You're powerful. More powerful than...pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you—"

"A freak." Jesse said, interrupting me. "To some people, maybe. But not to us. See, we're kind of freaks ourselves." I said as I look over at a side table and made it float. Jesse turns to look and sees it rising in the air. "You have powers too?" Jesse asked me as he turns to look back at me, a bit of a smile on his face, and I nod. "I was infected with demon's blood, so it isn't as strong as your powers." I said as set the table down.

Jesse stares at me then frowns. "I can't stay here, can I?" he asked. "No. The demons know where you are, and more will be coming." Dean said. "I won't go without my mom and dad." Jesse said. "There's nothing more important than family. We get that. And if you really want to take them with you, we'll back your play. But you got to understand—it's gonna be dangerous for them, too." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Jesse asked. "Our dad...he would take us with him wherever he went." Dean said, gesturing between him and Sam. "Where is he now?" Jesse asked. "Dead. A demon killed him." Sam said and Jesse turns to me. "What about you?" He asked me. "My dad and their dad were partners. So, yes, I was on the same boat as them." I said. "Where's your dad?" He asked me. "He died as well. A demon gave him cancer." I said and Jesse looks down, sad.

"Look, Jesse...once you're in this fight..." Dean said as he leans down to Jesse. "You're in it till the end, win or lose." Dean said. "What should I do?" Jesse asked us, looking between the three of us. "We can't tell you. It's your choice. It's not fair. I know." I said and Jesse looks down.

"Can I go see my parents? I, I need to...say goodbye." he said. "Sure." Dean said and Jesse gets up and climbs the stairs.

Minutes pass on and Sam examines the Castiel action figure and puts him back on the mantel. "He's been up there a long time." I noted and we head upstairs and go to Jesse's room, only to find it empty.

"He's gone." a voice said, behind us. We turn to see Castiel standing behind us. "Where?" Sam asked. "I don't know. Jesse put everyone in town back to normal—the ones still alive. Then he vanished." Castiel said and I noticed a note on Jesse's bed. "Hey." I said as I go to pick it up and read it, my heat breaking for this kid.

"What does it say?" Dean asked me. "That he had to leave to keep his parents safe, that he loves them, and he's sorry." I said, softly. "How do we find him?" Dean asked. "With the boy's powers, we can't. Not unless he wants to be found." Castiel said.

"You think Jesse's gonna be okay?" Dean asked me and Sam as we drive down the road. "I hope so." I said, letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, me too." Sam said. "You know, we destroyed that kid's life by telling him the truth." Dean said. "We didn't have a choice, Dean." Sam said.

"Yeah. You know, I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke—protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. The more I think about it...the more I wish Dad had lied to us." Dean said. "Yeah, me too." Sam said. "Yeah..." I muttered and I look out the window, at the night sky, hoping against hope that wherever Jesse is, he is safe and sound.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

54 notes · View notes

malestransforming · 2 years ago

Text

Becoming Papi

An unnamed narrator wins a competition to get "up close and personal" with his favourite hockey player, Auston Matthews. Turns out he may be getting closer and more personal than he anticipated!

This is a story I've posted elsewhere. It is my story, copyright me.

"Get Up-close and Personal with Auston Matthews!” The competition had said. I had entered on a whim, never expecting to win. I was very surprised to receive the winning notice in my inbox a few days later. For a week, I had been buzzing. I was going to meet my favourite hockey player! Number 34 of the Toronto Maple Leafs: Auston Matthews.

And now I was here! Sitting in a random training room at the Ford Performance Centre in Etobicoke, Ontario, just outside of Toronto. The room was cool and full of exercise equipment. Massive banners hung from the ceiling and the walls were covered in different murals of player faces and motivational phrases. I fiddled with my shirt as I waited, thinking about how Auston was likely in the next room also waiting for me. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was or if he was calm and cool, but before I could put much into the thought, the door opened. A woman dressed in black poked her head through the gap.

“You can come in now,” she said.

I smiled and and followed her through the door. The room on the other side was a long room, with wooden dressing stalls and benches against the walls. Hockey equipment hung at each stall; pants, shoulder pads, blue and white practise jerseys and the room had a gentle odour of sweat. A massive Maple Leaf logo covered much of the floor, and sitting on one of the wooden benches was Auston Matthews. He was wearing a cream coloured hoodie, shorts and a baseball cap. The way he sat on the bench pushed his thighs, making them seem thicker and bigger. His hair was slicked back behind his ears while his dark moustache was sitting darkly on his upper lip.

“Auston,” I murmured, reaching towards him with my hand. “It’s so, so incredible to meet you!”

“Hey,” he said in a relaxed drawl and standing up to meet me. He was taller than me. His smile instantly relaxed me. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m such a big fan. You’re, like, my favourite player.” I was gushing, but I didn’t care.

He was killing me with that smile. I realized I was still gripping his hand.

“Oh sorry!” I said, but his hand tightened and firmed around mine. I felt a warm tingling around my palm for a moment before he let go and grinned at me.

“You’re going to be perfect,” he said. “What happens next is going to be weird… Just relax and let it happen.”

He let go of my hand and I felt my face contort into a puzzled expression. But before I was able to voice a question, I was met with an extreme pricking sensation travelling up my arm. It started in the hand Auston had just shook and gradually travelled and radiated across my body. It felt like a warm, relaxing wave that cascaded through my blood and over my skin.

“You should probably take off your clothes for this,” Auston said.

I nodded and did what I was told, tossing everything in a corner. The waves were coursing faster through my body now, making my heart thump in my chest. I spied a mirror on the wall and walked over to it, ignoring the fact that I was naked. The tingling sensation was across my entire body now, causing me to become excited and aroused. My penis began to lift and grow harder, and so it only felt right to touch it. I stood naked in the Maple Leafs’ dressing at their practice facility, feeling dazed and tingly, stroking my cock for extra sensation.

The tingling stopped, but the warmth remained and a sudden jolt of energy attacked my shoulders. My shoulders clicked and popped and widened out, with new muscle mass stretching overtop. At the same time, my deltoids and pectoral muscles ballooned, becoming thicker and much more pronounced with thick layers of muscle. I felt strength and power push down into my core. Where once there had been a ring of fat, there were now strong abdominal muscles. My stomach tightened and fortified, needing more room to house the brawn I was gaining, and I became stocky and heavy-set in muscle. Dark lines sketched their way across my right side and arm: new tattoos inked their way onto my bulked mass. An intricate sleeve tattoo wove across my right arm, painting dark lines across my lightly browning skin. I stroked my hand across my chest, feeling the raw strength and newly sprouted chest hair underneath my fingertips. My back cracked and stretched as I jumped up several inches in height.

The skin on my penis darkened and the shaft grew in girth and length into a monster cock. Pre-cum began to drip out of the tip. I was enjoying the changes.

In the mirror I saw a wide-chested, bulked out body attached to two stick-like legs. To say it looked like I skipped leg day would be an understatement. Almost automatically, the changes continued in my lower half. My butt ballooned and padded out, looking like two globes attached to my waist, the product of millions of squats. My thighs thickened and increased significantly, looking more like massive trunks than legs now. Below that, my calves became cut and toned, shedding any excess fat and leaving behind only raw muscle. I stood on two strong centres of explosive power. The skin browned slightly, matched the hue of the my torso.

I looked in the mirror at my new body. Instinctively, I knew it was Auston Matthews’ body. Everything from the neck down was unfamiliar, different and new, but deep down I knew it was right. In fact, it looked odd seeing my thin head attached to such a muscular body. The changes were not finished yet. I turned and saw the other Auston (the real Auston) with his shorts around his ankles, stroking his penis vigorously; it appeared he was enjoying my changes as much as I was.

Turning back to the mirror, I saw my skull and expanding, creaking and cracking as it went. My chin pushed forward, squaring off the back of my jaw as well. My eyes became more inset, slightly narrower and darker and my nose more pointed and wide at the nostrils. My hair lengthened down towards my neck, and my forehead broadened as my hairline migrated to the very top of my head. My ears flattened a little against my head and became longer. The wild and bushy eyebrows I sported before thinned, becoming tapered lines above my dark eyes. My teeth whitened and straightened. And above my thickening lips, a dark wisp of hair poked out through my skin and thickened into a Latino-style moustache. It swept across my entire upper lip into a neat half triangle that stretched under my nose. More patches of scruff and facial hair dotted across my cheeks and neck. Auston Matthews was staring at me from the mirror.

“That was sick, bro!” The other Auston Matthews was behind me, retying the drawstring on his shorts. He was wearing a face mask now, and a dark blue coloured hoodie and cap. His eyes looked lighter than before, almost like he had changed his own appearance as well. He stepped over, offering me his hand to high-five.

I felt my face smile that trademark Auston Matthews smile. “Thanks,” I replied, my voice now lower and echoing the same laid-back drawl, and returned his high-five.

“You probably have a million questions. Like ‘what happened’, ‘what did you do?’, right?”

“Something like that!” I laughed.

“So, yeah, basically… I want some time off. I’m going to disappear for a while… Get off the grid and relax. So while I’m gone, I want you to cover for me. This is your prize for winning that competition!”

“So I’m you?” I said, not fully understanding.

“Not yet. You will be, just as soon as I’ve said the code word. After that, you will be Auston Matthews and I’ll just be some guy.”

“Oh,” I said. “I- I’m pretty shit at hockey. Like, I can skate but I can’t shoot for shit. I can’t even lift the puck. I don’t know how this is gonna work.”

“Don’t worry about that. As soon as I say the code word, the transformation will finish and you’ll have all of my skills and memories, my winning personality… everything! You’ll be a complete copy of me.”

“Really? That’s fucking awesome! But what about the me from before? People are going to wonder where I am.”

“I’ll take care of that. Don’t worry. Let’s just say, that guy from before? He’s living on the other side of the planet. I’ll be back in a year, maybe more if you want, and I’ll change you back. All right?”

A life of possibilities flashed through my mind. I had never thought of playing in the NHL, even as a fantasy, and now it was about to become my reality.

“Oh! I forgot one thing,” Auston said as he lifted his arms behind his neck to two silver chains that were hooked there. “You’ll need these,” he said, and he carefully slipped them around my neck.”

I looked into the mirror, staring back at my naked body, taking in my massive hockey butt and sleeve tattoo. The silver chains caught the light, and a silver cross stuck against my massive pectorals. It felt complete now. I ran my hands over my shoulders, chest, stomach and butt, grinning at myself. I’m going to be Auston Matthews! I thought. No, I am Auston Matthews!

“All right bud, this is it. Remember, from this moment, you are going to be Auston Matthews. It’s going to feel awesome and amazing. Enjoy it.” The other Auston wrapped his arm around my beefy neck. “Don’t forget, you’ve got practice after this, ay Papi?”

Papi? A calm fog entered my brain. The world melted away from me and I felt the final changes take hold.

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

My name is Auston Matthews. I was born in California and grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. I am part Mexican. I am a professional hockey player. I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs…

My name is Auston Matthews.

My brain filled with years of hockey practice, workouts, flashes of Mexican heritage, memories of playing for USA National Team, playing with the ZSC Lions in Zürich and of playing with the Toronto Maple Leafs. I remembered the awards I had won, the All Star games I had played in, the teammates I had played with. My brain relaxed and mellowed, as new personality traits took over. The foreign-feeling muscles I had just grown became familiar and normal; I immediately knew how to use the power in my legs and arms. Some Spanish words entered my brain and I felt my identity switch to part Mexican. The fog lifted from my brain, and the room re-materialised around me.

What am I doing here, staring at myself in the mirror! I need to get dressed for practice!

I immediately strode over to my dressing stall — the one marked MATTHEWS 34 — and slipped on my compression gear and skate socks. I grabbed my jock and pulled it up to my waist, adjusting my crotch and penis to sit within the cup. Sitting, I reached for my shin pads, fixed him to my legs, and strapped the Velcro around my calves. I pulled a pair of blue and white striped hockey socks overtop of my shin pads, and hooked them securely at my waist.

I was on autopilot at this point; everything felt natural and normal.

I slid into a pair of blue hockey pants and tightened them around my waist. I saw that my skates were a custom pair of CCMs, with a blue and white pattern around the ankle with my nickname Papi and number 34 next to it. I stomped my foot inside the boot and tied my skates on tight. Quickly, I took a roll of hockey tape and wrapped one, two, three strips tightly around my shins. Next I grabbed my shoulder pads and elbow pads and strapped them around my massive arms and chest. I pulled a blue practise jersey over my pads, the number 34 emblemed on the back. Instinctively, I ran my hand through my hair and slicked it back, making it easier for me to don my helmet. I clipped the straps and checked it was on tightly.

I reached for my gloves, putting them on felt familiar and welcoming. I nimbly ambled over, walking in skates, towards the rink exit, grabbing two of my PAPI labelled sticks from the rack. They were already taped and waxed and ready for some quick wristers on the ice. With my equipment on and my sticks in hand, I walked towards the ice.

Before stepping on the rink, I noticed a figure in the stands; an anonymous figure in a cream-coloured hoodie. I offered a loose salute from my temple and took my first stride. I let my powerful leg muscles work the way they had been conditioned to as I made confident movements across the pad. Spying a puck, I pivoted and strode towards it, catching it with my stick and pulling it towards me. I skated towards the empty net and in an instant, snapped it into the back of the goal. The whole movement had taken less than a second. I grinned and looked back to the now empty spot where the figure had stood.

“My name is Auston Matthews, and I play for the Toronto Maple Leafs,” I thought to myself and ripped off another shot on goal.

#male tf #hockey #hockey transformation #auston matthews #racial change #jock transformation

161 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

Note

jadey jade hi!! i hope ur well!!! for hurt/comfort i’m thinking jonathan & anxious reader perhaps. like she’s having a panic attack and he is just very very wonderful and holds her hand and helps her get her breathing back to normal <3 it’s ok if u don’t wanna do it lov u

thank you for your request!! love u ♥︎ fem!reader TW panic attack

Jonathan has a scary sixth sense for this kind of stuff. You've barely realised yourself what's happening when he's offering his hand through the merged crowd of your friends and pulling you toward clearer ground. Not far, but enough to give you some privacy.

Grass crushed under your feet, you take awkward, near wobbly steps and come to a pause behind a big maple tree shedding leaves. You watch one drift down on the breeze behind his shoulder.

"What's freaking you out?" he asks gently.

You take a shallow breath. "Um."

He smiles. "That freaks me out, too," he says, offering his other hand. You grab at him like a lifeline. He doesn't complain.

"Listen to my breathing," Jonathan says, taking a slow, unhurried breath.

You copy his movements, eyes everywhere and nowhere. You stare at his eyes, the little lines underneath and his straight lashes, then his cheeks, his neck and that tiny beauty mark on his right side. You lean into his hands, too much of your weight but he doesn't complain, only let's his hands slide further and further up your arms to keep you steady.

"You're okay," he says, speaking with a sweet surety, like it's not even in question. "You're good. Do you wanna sit down?"

You settle on your knees and Jon sits with you, joined hands resting warm as the sun over both kneecaps. He waits with you until you're through the worst of it, and though he tries to hide it there's the slightest hint of panic in his own expression, worried when you hang your head and squeeze his hands. You're sure you'll pass out, but slowly you're okay, you're on the other side of it, and the painful ache in your chest becomes a manageable twinge.

He laughs. Not cruelly — Jonathan doesn't have a mean bone in his whole body. A huffing, light laugh, relief plain as day in the way he strokes your wrist.

"You did so well," he murmurs, brushing the side of his pinky finger over your baby hairs.

"I thought I was gonna die."

"Like I'd let that happen."

You pull his hand back to your face, cheek heavy in his palm.

A leaf falls down and lands on your head. Jonathan laughs again, a real, hearty laugh as he pulls it from your hair, spinning the stalk between his fingers.

"It wanted to make sure you're okay," he says.

Are you okay? You nod at him. "I'm okay."

He strokes down the bridge of your nose with the leaf. "Good, I need you to be okay. I don't think I can survive Will's friends by myself."

"They're your friends, too," you say.

"Yeah, maybe." He draws a circle around the apple of your cheek. "You're my favourite one, though."

Jonathan helps you back onto your feet and tucks the lead behind your ear. He holds your face in both hands, turning it from one side to the other like he's assessing before he presses a dainty kiss to the corner of your eye. Your heart races for a brand new reason.

#jonathan byers x y/n #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

262 notes · View notes

creativepawsworld · 2 years ago

Text

Just Like Magic

Pairing = Neil Lewis (Watching The Detectives) x Reader

Summary = Neil is following along with another one of Violets adventures. He is getting married. Can Y/n stop it before it’s too late.

Warnings = Language, Grammar...

Word Count = 1264

Note- One shot that has been sitting in my drafts for a bit. This place is lacking in Neil Lewis content lol so here is a one shot... Enjoy

“Lucien where is Neil?” You asked rushed, hurdling through the glass door of Gumshoe Video. Lucien looking up from his spiderman comic book to look at me with wide eyes before returning to his relaxed state, eyes returning to the book in front of him like this was a daily occurrence for him.

“He’s not here, Violet whisked him away. Leaving me in charge, again.” He muttered, lifting his right index finger to his tongue, dampening it and turning the to the next page, careful not to damage any corners.

“Where did they go Lucien? Don’t you check your messages?” You question rummaging through the cash desk in hopes of finding something, anything that would tell me the address of the where they were heading but only finding old receipts, posters and mail that had been left unopened for some time.

“No why?” He replied, completely unphased by my sense of urgency. A white brochure catching you attention next to his foot, bending down, your breathe hitched in my throat as you read over the tiny writing, finding the address you were looking for.

“I need to take your car” You inform him standing to your feet and taking his car keys from beside the cash register.

“NEIL’S GETTING MARRIED” You heard Lucien yell just as you ran out the door. The door closing with a bang as you jumped into Lucien’s beat up Ford Mondeo out front, speeding to the little church at the end of Maple drive.

You had ran into every red light on the way here, the tears were falling from your eyes as you parked close to Neil’s car, hoping and praying you wasn’t too late.

Running towards the wooden door, you inhaled deeply pushing it open but due to how light the door was, it flew from your hands, smacking off the concrete wall behind it alerting everyone, including the church mice that you arrived.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” You called to the pastor who was standing at the end of the altar, bible opened in his hands with an annoyed expression on his face as he looked at you. “You have really oiled them door huh?” You tried to joke lightly only for it to fall on deaf ears.

“Y/N what are you doing here?” Neil asked wide eyes as he walked towards you, a shocked expression on his face. He was wearing that dorky light blue shirt with the ruffles down the front, accompanied with a blazer and navy pants. His statement converse on his feet.

“You can’t do this Neil” You sigh, eyes pleading with him not to go through with this crazy charade.

“And why not Y/N? I love Violet, she loves me we want to do this”

“What about me?” You ask unsure of the words leaving your mouth but this was your last chance. Neil’s eyes slide over towards Violet and the pastor before returning to your gaze, bewilderment obvious. “Why do you think I stayed late with you all those nights after work? Wore those stupid costumes with you Neil? Watched those terrible movies”

“Because that’s what friends do?” He asked, shuffling between his left and right foot as he scratched the back of his head.

“No because I fell in love with you. Don’t you see that?” You asked practically pleading with him at this point to at least acknowledge your feelings.

“Everything alright here Neil?” Violet asked stepping towards us, a hop in her step as she linked her hands around his arm.

Jealous coursed through your veins as you looked at the woman in front of you, she had given him countless heart attacks and almost got him shot, literally shot to breaking his heart all for her sick twisted messed up fantasy world and yet he stuck by her.

“You what?” Neil asked, a concerned look on his face like he was trying to solve the worlds hardest maths puzzle. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m a coward. I was afraid you would reject me” You tell him, leaning your feet outward no doubt ruining the sides of your converse as you stood in what many considered an uncomfortable position.

“Neil come on the pastor is waiting” Violet began to tug on his arm now, her gaze flicking to yours with a glare.

“I’ll be right there” Neil muttered towards her, shaking her hands from his arm before running a hand down his face. “You should have told me before now Y/N”

“I know, I’m sorry” You retreated, heart breaking at his choice of words. You didn’t want to stick around and here the actually rejection, it would hurt to much so you began to back out of the small church. “Sorry again, about the…about the door” You called to the pastor again who this time, returned your gaze with a sympathetic nod, no doubt hearing what just happened.

Nodding to no one in particular, you opened the door, gently this time waiting for it to close before you took off running towards the car. Inside where it was safe, you allowed yourself to lose it. Your hands slapped against the steering wheel and sides of the seat. You were too late.

Deciding you didn’t want to stick around for them to leave, you put the car into drive, hitting every green light this time on your way back to the video store to return the cars to Lucien. The lights were clearly a sign from the universe that you shouldn’t have ignored, the red lights before clearing telling you not to do it but you didn’t listen.

“Did you find him?” Lucien asked when you walked through the door, instantly clocking onto your tears. “I’m sorry Y/N, I honestly didn’t think he would chose her. He never shut up about you”

“Don’t, don’t do that. It’s over I was too late” You huff putting the cars into his open expected hand. “Um I probably won’t be around for a bit, you know…with everything so see you around?” You stated, holding up your hand unsure of what to actually do with it.

“You don’t have to do that, we are still your friends”

“Yeah I know but it will be weird with her around. For me at least, I just need to lick my wounds” You reply backing away towards the door, opening the single glass door planning to make your escape for the foreseeable future when a car’s tyres screeching had you looking out to the street.

“Y/N, Y/N” Neil shouted climbing awkwardly out the car door, almost falling out to the road with his clumsiness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”

“It’s fine Neil, I’m happy for you. Truly” You respond willing the tears away to send the newly wedded grown your best.

“Why?” He asked, an almost disgusted look on his face as he stared at you.

“For your marriage, to Violet”

“I didn’t marry her Y/N. It’s always been you”

“What? No, Neil no, don’t say things you don’t mean”

Instead of replying with words, he took two long strides forwards making his way to you and clasping his hands over your ears pulling your face close to his and placing a searing kiss on your lips. You had no idea so much passion and want could be construed through a kiss but somehow Neil managed it.

“Does that prove what I mean?”

“Not really, maybe one more” You grin wrapping your hands around the back of his head holding you close to you, lips working together just like magic.

#cillian murphy characters #neillewis #watching the detectives #neil lewis #one shot #cillian murphy #wedding

136 notes · View notes

shinebrightlikeanarwhal · 2 years ago

Note

Here, last one.

I decided to give Sal and Travis something to live for rather than each other so i gave them two kids Sal took in because they were shivering and drenched in water from the storm.

Off the fricking bat, Sal loves them. Dani is super hyper, a little dumb at times and is the youngest of the household. He always tells people his dad (Travis) is a computer because of how much time he spends around them. He also likes sweets, a lot.

Aelita is our black queen, yes she’s black and Dani is mixed. She is constantly in a corner reading books with either lots of pictures or too many words that makes Sal head spin. Aelita prefers spicy food and has a vanilla and peaches allergy. One time, a child was telling her how a pumpkin patch makes babies and thats what her parents told her. Aelita looks her and another teacher dead in the eyes and says “Your parents had sex.”

-Sunny

Hear me out

Hear me ouuuut

Uncle Larry drops the kids off to school and picks them up. Travis works from home so they see him all the time but Sal is often away, so he visits and calls as much as possible. When he gets home he often finds them cuddled up and asleep on the couch with one of their favorite shows or movies on. Many times it’s Bluey or a movie like Turning Red or Sing.

I feel like children would be an eye pioneer for Travis. He’d mellow out quickly. Prioritizing their happiness and health. Especially if this is Possessed Travis, he makes sure his kids are safe every day. Sending a little shadow to monitor and report to the other demons in anything happens. Many… strange.. individuals will go missing if they’re too weird with the children.

Danni absolutely adores uncle Larry and Papa Sal! They play with him all the time! Uncle Larry sneaks him treats and lets him paint in his studio!! Even if Danni makes a mistake Uncle Larry isn’t mean to him like mama was! The tiny boy they had day one is soon plump and full of love. He gives wet kisses and warm hugs to his family.

Aelita prefers Aunty Maple, Uncles Neil and Todd. Papa Travis has a special place in Aelitas life for the rest of her life. Especially after he comforted her through one of her nightmares that usually turn into panic attacks. Travis is patient with her unlike her mommy was. She didn’t have to sit in the dark room because she made a mistake anymore. She just got cuddles when she wanted, headpats when she did good and eats yummy foods she’d see on tv at school!

I can definitely picture one of them having special needs (Sal would feel so connected to a child with extra needs as he loves working with kids). Danni maybe having ADHD, ptsd and some behavioral needs that make him nonverbal aside from shrieks and grunts almost times. But he will talk his little heart out in babbles. Aelita having sever ptsd, seizures and emotional trauma that makes socializing harder for her. She’s physically and cognitively fine but the trauma of her first home has left a hefty mark.

But with the the support and love of Papas Sals and Travis, they can overcome all obstacles. (Sal and Larry definitely didn’t take the time to hunt down the people that hurt the babies while Travis was happily unaware. Totally didn’t let the demons have a field day beating their ass.

(And yes, impromptu fashion shows where big buff papa Sal and Yncle Larry March around in tutus and tiaras while scrawny and tall Travis is dressed as a pretty princess.)

((More in tags))

#sally face #sally face au #travis phelps #larry johnson #sal fisher #larry x travis #salvis #sal x travis #adopted kids au #Sal and Travis are top tier parents l #uncle Larry is a menace to Travis’ peaceful nights #he constantly comes in and hyped up the kids at the worst times and then leaves #later getting an angry voicemail from Travis who finally put them down for bed at 4am #Sal works hard to provide for his family #he may not be home often but when he is it’s a love fest #those babies are spoiled rotten #but never turn rotten #Danni hyper fixated on animals once and refused to wear anything that wasn’t animal onesies

10 notes · View notes

the-delta-42 · 1 month ago

Text

Ripples 1

Ripples

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Chapter 1: In Summary

Ariana swung her feet back and forth as she listened to her parents argue. Her dad wanted to hunt the muggle boys down and punish them, her mother argued that since nothing actually happened, his attack would be seen as unprovoked.

Albus and Aberforth would always keep a close eye on her, at least until she received her letter for Hogwarts. Ariana looked at her new wand, Maple, 10 ½ inches with a Dragon-Heartstring as the core, she gave it a wave, dully watching as sparks flew from the end. Ariana hoped to get into the same house as her brothers, although Albus was absent at times, Ariana had a feeling that he was spending time with that Gellert boy he’d met.

Ariana grinned as the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor, she sat down next to a boy who was absent-mindedly chewing on the end of his wand, at least until he accidentally singed his eyebrows, earning a few laughs. Ariana’s grin slowly fell, suddenly she felt that she was surrounded by idiots.

The boy, Hadrian Potter, sent a stool into the ceiling during charms, and tricked another student into using a size enlarging charm on themselves, until they had to go to the Hospital Wing, granted that other student had been making a second year do their homework, but Ariana doubted tricking them into enlarging their own privates would count as an acceptable punishment.

After their Fourth year, Potter actually looked for her, having heard about how a fight broke out between Gellert and Albus, which left her parents dead.

Ariana scowled, she had known Potter for five years and he still acted like an arse, although she couldn’t help by laugh when he intimidated Professor Binns or when he woke up with ink stained on his cheek after falling asleep on his essay.

In their Seventh year Hadrian and Ariana started courting, before getting Married in the summer after they Graduated, a couple of years later Charlus was born and then came the time for him to go to Hogwarts and then he graduated, he Married Dorea Black and had Arthur, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got married to Josephina Fleamont and had Henry, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got married to Athena Bones, had Fleamont, who went to Hogwarts, graduated, got Married to Euphemia Prewett. Due to the various wars, both Muggle and Wizard, Ariana had seen many members of her family die long before their time, Hadrian and Charlus died in the fields of Belgium and France walking out of their trenches, Arthur and Henry would help fight Grindlewald, both being killed for it, but Ariana, as well as the other widows in the Potter family felt the pain of Fleamont and Euphemia as they struggled to have a child, the pair seemingly giving up, up until the late 1950’s when the pair arrived at the Manor and proudly announced that a baby was on the way.

James Potter was born in the early hours of the 27th of March 1960, red faced and screaming, at least until he was wrapped up in a blanket. James went to Hogwarts, befriended one of Dorea’s great-nephews Sirius Black, a small watery eyed boy Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, who looked worse for wear at times.

The group were as thick as thieves throughout their time at school, although Ariana made sure to pull James aside to get him to fix his attitude, after Albus contacted her and informed her of James’ antics, the following summer James came back with a boy with a hooked nose, Ariana could tell that Severus Snape was wary of James and the other four. Ariana was talking with Dorea when they rounded the corner and found the group, minus James holding a cupboard door shut. They later found out that they had locked James and a girl he liked, Lily Evans, in the cupboard and they were trying to keep them in there.

After they graduated, they all joined the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation set up by Albus to combat the Dark Lord Voldemort. James and Lily got married, Severus joined the Death Eaters as a spy for the Order, Remus went to speak with the were-wolves and James and Lily went into hiding shortly after their son Harry had been born.

Josephina died before Fleamont had been born and Athena had been on her last legs before James was born and died a month after from a heart attack and Fleamont and Euphemia contracted Dragonpox and died shortly before Harry’s birth. Sirius had told Dorea and Ariana about the plan to prevent Voldemort finding the Potters, with himself as a decoy secret keeper and Peter being their actual secret keeper.

On the 31st of October 1981, Ariana convinced Albus to allow James and Lily to sit in on an Order meeting, while Dorea watched over Harry. A little while into the meeting, a small device that Dumbledore had on the table set off, screaming. James and Lily paled before rushing outside and disapperating to Godric’s Hollow, where they found Dorea dead and Harry screaming with a red lightning bolt scar etched onto his forehead. James ran into Sirius, who gave James his motorcycle and took off looking for Peter.

Peter blew up a muggle street, killing thirteen muggles, before turning into a rat and running away. Sirius as arrested and placed in Azkaban without receiving a trial.

For the past four years the Potters, as well as the rest of the Order kept protesting Sirius’s innocence, while taking care of Harry and Neville, whose parents had been driven insane by Bellatrix LeStrange and three other Death Eaters. In the immediate aftermath of Voldemort’s disappearance, several of his former followers claimed to be under the imperious curse, while paying the new Minister to ensure their pardon.

Harry watched as the water in his cup poured into the sink, before he refilled it and repeated the process, giggling as he did it.

“Harry’s discovered physics.” Said Lily, as James walked into the room.

James gave a small smile, before walking out the back door and throwing a blasting curse into the sky, a bright flash appearing, making Harry look up from the water and at the unintentional fireworks display.

A crack behind her told Lily that the others arrived.

“I take it you’ve heard the news?” Said Remus, his hair greyer that it had been the last time she saw him.

“Well, James didn’t say anything, except go outside and give Harry a new form of entertainment.” Said Lily, as Severus walked into Harry’s field of vision and boop him on the nose.

“The Minister has said ‘Since there is no evidence to prove Black’s innocence, the case is going to be closed.’” Said Remus, making Lily scowl, before Rose and Violet ran into the room, screaming.

Lily sighed, before picking Harry up and moving him away from the sink, so that she could finish the washing up, “Any other news?”

“Charles Steven has been sent to Azkaban, after he killed his brother for branding Mercutio with the Dark Mark.” Said Remus, picking Violet up, “Fenrir Greyback has attacked another child and a delightful toad has gone on a warpath against anything that isn’t human.”

Lily rolled her eyes, as James came back in, “You left out the part where a healer decided to amputate Mercutio’s arm.”

Lily stopped, before she turned and looked at James, “They what now?”

“Amputated the left arm of a five-year-old.” Said James, scooping Harry up, “I also got a snotty letter from Croaker, asking how your charms are coming along.”

“The sleeping charm works perfectly, the mental restoration charm is a bit foggy, since we don’t have anyone to test it on.” Said Lily, as she looked at Neville, who was looking at the pictures in a Herbology book.

James followed her gaze, “And since the one’s the spell is being made to help are off the table, you practically have no way of knowing if it works or not.”

The room was silent, with the exception of the two four-year-old girls who seemed to speak their own language.

“What if we found someone whose mind was broken, but not to the extent that they are not aware of their surroundings.” Said Severus, looking at Lily.

Lily was silent, before her arms went slack and dangled at her sides as she stared aimlessly into nothing.

“Like victims of a traumatic experience, like a car crash.” Said Lily, suddenly starting to pace, “And St. Mungo’s is full of people who has undergone at least one form of trauma, several of which should be able to give their consent to be tested on.”

Lily suddenly walked out of the room and grabbed her wand and prepared to disapperate.

“Um, Lily,” Called James, “aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lily quickly walked over and kissed James and each of her children on the cheek.

“Lily, you’re still in your pyjamas.” Said James, making Lily look down at herself.

“Ah.” Said Lily, before she rushed upstairs and got dressed.

James smiled and shook his head, looking down at Harry, “If we’re lucky, you might get her brains and my good looks.”

Harry giggled, “Can we have more fireworks, daddy? Please?”

James smiled, before leading Harry and the others outside, Neville pressing himself against Remus, as James conjured a blanket for the children, before pointing his wand in the air and letting a stream of bight flashes from the tip of his wand. The children laughed and clapped; James vaguely heard the phone ring. Lily had insisted that they install it, so she could speak to her Muggle relatives. The phone stopped ringing and James finished off his show by settling some of the sparks into the shape of a dragon.

Lily arrived at the back door, a sour look on her face.

“That was my sister.” Said Lily, “Apparently she invited her family to our house for dinner.”

James felt his stomach drop.

‘Well,’ Thought James, ‘this is going to be fun.’

The dinner was not fun, Petunia had not aged well, in Lily’s opinion. It didn’t help that her son, even though he more resembled a mix between and pig and a beach ball, wanted more food and started to throw a tantrum. It certainly didn’t help that Vernon was feeding into Dudley’s tantrum. It absolutely didn’t help that Petunia ‘forgot’ to mention that Vernon’s sister was joining them.

Harry, Neville and the girls ate quietly, watching Dudley make himself look like an idiot, while Marge was going on about dog breeding, trying to subtly insult James and Lily.

Lily struggled to keep her face neutral as Marge continued to insult them. Vernon then reached across the table and snatched Harry’s food away and giving it to Dudley.

“Give that back.” Said Harry, glaring at Vernon, while Dudley ate Harry’s food.

“Dudley needed it more.” Said Vernon, a sneer on his face.

“What he needs is a diet and exercise,” Said Harry, “although, I think your entire family needs it, then you might stop looking like a pig.”

Vernon’s hand connected with the side of Harry’s head. Marge’s dog would’ve gone for Harry, were it not for the black Wolf Hound suddenly snapping and snarling at him.

“Address me like that again, Freak,” Bellowed Vernon, while the other Dursley’s looked amused, “and I’ll whip you with my belt.”

“Get out.”

James was already half-way out of his seat when Lily spoke.

“What?” Snarled Vernon, glaring at Lily.

“I said get out,” Said Lily, cold rage on her eyes, “you’re not welcome here, and I want you to leave.”

Marge scoffed, before leaning forwards and put her face in Lily’s, “Now you listen here…” Said Marge, before her finger started to inflate.

Marge continued to inflate until she looked like a massive beach ball that was floating around. The Dursley’s all started to rush out, Petunia being the last out the door.

“We never should’ve come here,” Sneered Petunia, “The Freaks are too dangerous.”

“You’re right, Mrs Dursley,” Said Lily, from the door, “I don’t even know why I let a stranger into my home.”

Petunia stopped dead, before she turned and looked at Lily. Lily glared at Petunia, until Petunia got into the car, with Marge strapped to the roof so they didn’t lose her.

Lily looked at James, “I take it, inflating her was you’re doing?”

James shook his head, before a sniffle caught their attention, making the pair look at Harry, who was struggling, and failing, not to cry. Lily rushed over and looked at the red mark on Harry’s face, his glasses broken in his hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry, mummy,” Harry hiccupped, “I-I didn’t mean to ruin tea.”

“Harry,” Said Lily, while James fixed Harry’s glasses, “You didn’t ruin everything.”

The dams burst and Harry was crying into his mother’s chest, Lily carried Harry into the kitchen and set him on the counter, before locating a bad of frozen peas, wrapping it in a tea towel and gently pressing it against Harry’s face. Harry whimpered, before falling silent. Suddenly feeling sleepy, Harry started to doze off.

Lily looked at the clock and decided that it was time for the children to go to bed.

The next day, Severus arrived at the Potter’s home with a jumpy, jittery five-year-old who looked like he’d been attacked by a Dementor.

***Seven Years Later***

Harry groaned and rolled over onto his front, his arm covering his eyes. A small black orb on his desk rattled, making Harry sneer at it and stalk over to it. Harry picked the orb up and shook it, the orb went from black to a light blue, after dismissing the alarm, Harry went back to bed.

Rose and Violet burst into Harry’s room.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They screamed, making Harry jump and tumble out of bed.

“I really wish you didn’t do that.” Said Harry, as he lay face down on the floor.

“But why deprive us of the entertainment?” Came an amused voice from Harry’s doorway.

A dark-haired boy stood in the doorway, Harry then spotted Neville and Ron behind him.

“Very funny.” Said Harry, getting to his feet, “I take it the alarm was your idea?”

“Ginny’s actually.” Said the boy, standing up straight, the sleeve on his left arm shifting up as he moved, revealing the silver bones of a human arm, “After all, what girl doesn’t want to wake their boyfriend up?”

Harry threw his shoe at him, “Bones, Ginny and I are just friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Said Bones, a smirk on his face, “one day you might believe it.”

Bones gave a short whistle, getting the girls attention, “Go tell them that he’s awake.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Violet demanded, crossing her arms.

“Because the moment I turn my back, he’ll throw his other shoe at me.” Said Bones, causing Rose to look at Violet and pull a ‘fair enough’ face.

The girls shot past the boys, before Bones, Ron and Neville entered Harry’s room.

“That was easier than I expected,” Said Bones, casually strolling into the room, “Your parents already know you’re awake, but they’ll be roped into setting the table. Which give us time to talk about the date.”

“My birthday?” Said Harry, tired.

“Precisely,” Said Bones, “Today is the day you get your Hogwarts letter and the day your family steps out of the shadows.”

There was a bang, making everyone look at the window, just in time to see a grey owl falling to the ground.

“Was that Errol?” Said Neville, as Harry pulled his clothes on.

“Probably.” Said Ron, looking back at Harry, “Hurry up, the food’s getting cold.”

“Of course, you’d think with your stomach.” Neville muttered, before walking out of the room.

Harry was quiet, before looking at the others, “I take it the spell still needs refining.”

“Yeah, they showed awareness of their surroundings for about an hour, before they relapsed.” Said Bones, walking to the doorway with Ron and Harry following.

The morning was a small affair, before Harry’s letter arrived, then it was off to Diagon Alley.

#harry potter #wizarding world #harry james potter #ariana dumbledore #lily evans potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #severus snape #ron weasley #neville longbottom #Ripples AU #Harry Potter AU #delta writes

1 note · View note

persicipen · 3 months ago

Text

afternoon red ノ kamisato ayato

ৎ୭ — · · 1.4k ノ fem reader — explicitly being called a wife and a girl ノ your first attempted assassination after getting married yay ノ going through shock . hurt comfort . lowkey fear of pda ノ sappy bonding with your new husband ノ i was fueled by @euthymiya and @tetsuskei and their ayato thoughts (i hope you don’t mind being tagged) <3

The commotion sprawling down the stairs of Ritou was not usual at this hour. Just as unexpected in its intensity. It couldn’t relate to any festivals (there were none happening at this time of the year), nor could it be a new batch shipped from across the seas (the earliest arrival scheduled for the next week).

As if interested, red maple trees lean and let their crimson leaves whisper gossips with each other, circling in the warm wind that seems to stop its natural journey in favour of entertainment.

You’re in the middle of all this — a centre of attention, pairs and pairs of wide-open eyes blinking at you and too many hands touching, grabbing you to straighten you up as if not caring that your legs feel like wet cotton or that you still try to look around in shock. It’s hard to focus your vision and everyone looks like vague iridescence of colours. You cling to the image of your newlywed husband as if it’s the only thing keeping you afloat among the hustling crowd, being the raging sea. How long have you two been together? But a short while, no more.

Him. Just him. With furrowed brows, with eyes narrowed, that only enhanced the wrinkles in their corners. A flash of temper escaping the façade of forever calm commissioner. The inside of his arms was safe, but whoever remained outside should face the imminent consequences of endangering your life and angering the lord. This kind of protection, devotion, was unknown to you. It felt almost just as invading and you wanted to push it away.

This sudden emotion sways into your veins, it numbs your tongue and mind — so heavy, it feels almost tangible.

You merely escaped death.

It all happened so quickly you didn’t even get to register the attacker’s face before the city’s patrols dragged them away — unsure if for your sake or to save their life for the interrogation before the commissioner could weigh himself with a crime of murder. And he was more than ready, steeled like a tight string, with his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

“The police officials and the medic should arrive soon, Lord Kamisato.” Someone informs, but you can’t even get a glimpse of their face, tucked snugly against the side of your husband. “Is there anything we can do for you in the meantime?”

“You’ve captured the perpetrator. You’ve done enough, and I thank you for that. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I wish to take my wife somewhere less busy. It’s not a… an expected occurrence for her… yet,” he responds in his usual fashion. Someone else mutters out an order about informing his sister and the rest of the estate too, but all words sound like they come from underwater.

Besides that, there are only his hands roaming up and down your arms, hoping to chase away the chill settling deep inside your bones. Even with the light breeze around and the crowd gathering to see what happened, sweat breaks on your forehead.

As you go down the stairs to the quiet corner, holding onto the safest arm in the world, the air finally clears up for you to catch a breath. Yet it does nothing to stop your head from spinning. Or your stomach churning in an attempt to leave your body. Your eyelids flutter but can’t force themselves shut, vision filled with small black dots that block out pieces of scenery, slowly replacing everything.

“Beloved, I’m here.” You hear his voice, steady and barely above a whisper, securing you in place before you dissociate.

Two hands cup your face. They’re cold without the delicate leather gloves, but they hold you with much care.

“Breathe with me. Slowly.” Your husband closes his eyes, leading you. He inhales and exhales and it doesn’t take long for you to feel at ease, matching your breathing to his.

He only opens his eyes after you exhale deeply, no longer hiccuping for air like a fish out of water. What a tragedy it would be to lose such a pretty koi, so young and not yet held long enough for him to accept being separated from you.

The sun illuminates his features, highlights the contours of his cheekbones and draws sharp shadows along the edge of his jaw.

Even now, in an hour as grey as this, he shines like silver. The most precious being you could ask for.

His thumb grazes your lips in a soothing motion, scooping the tears that gathered in the corners of your mouth.

“You’re safe. And for that, I am so glad. My dear wife is well, merely shaken.”

It becomes difficult to not touch him when the breeze that always blows towards the harbour makes his hair fly back and tangles up strands on the right side of his face. It also screams improper in public, even if it’s just patrols turned their back to your side, probably giving you two some time to calm down before a medic arrives to check for any possible damage.

Your hand, ever so naturally, lifts up to do what you wish to — pulling away the wayward locks, brushing them back behind his ear, locking them between your fingers and admiring how soft they are. The gesture, mayhaps not unexpected, but still devastating in its tenderness, causes him to break the perfectly even breathing, a small hitch of his inhale as he leans just an inch towards your touch.

He presses his lips to your palm, taking his time to place a kiss on each knuckle, relishing in how soft your skin is, the uniqueness of your taste, a bitter tint of fear now cutting through the usual sweetness, and the smallest twitch of muscles wherever his mouth ghosts over them.

He watches as a couple of tears slide down your cheeks and that beautiful shudder he knows so well, bringing about a mellow smile that can only be seen as adoring.

“I’m so sorry, my lord. Please, do not worry any longer. It’s— like you said, I’m merely shaken.” You snivel, trying to get a hold of yourself for it’s shameful to cry again, especially after he had the courtesy of wiping your previously shed tears. You lower your gaze, away from him, in hopes he will let this pathetic side of yours be ignored.

And so he does the exact opposite.

He cups your face again and his slender fingers push your chin up just slightly, leaving no room for hesitation and making it impossible to deny his presence, even if your eyes stay glued to everywhere but him.

“Look at me.”

You follow instinctively, unable to ignore your husband’s command.

In the afternoon light, there are so many details of his appearance that you only catch during rare moments like this — how ethereal he seems when the crimson sunset paints the world in gentle golds and coppers, intertwined yet never merging with the pastel colours of his robes and features.

He hums, satisfied that he got your attention.

You wonder if this act of impropriety, still going on between you two in the secluded corner between the buildings instead of performed behind the closed doors of the bedrooms, is exactly what made his skin burn under your touch, too.

Again, he guides you in deep breaths, lulling you into the security of being together, whole. It’s obvious behind his touches how his resolve stays iron, yet the desperation crawls in each of his movements, denying himself the pleasure of just fondling your face like the most adorable baby animal. He allows you to relish in his gestures until he comes back to his senses, that buzz inside his head louder than the bells at the temple — that this is not what you two should be doing now.

“You’re a brave girl. I wouldn’t expect any less from my sweet wife. Come, let’s meet the medic and talk with the officials. The sooner we’ll be done with formalities, the sooner we can return to the estate.”

He gently leads you away, not breaking the contact as much as possible — holding your hand, supporting your lower back with his free one.

How hard it is for him to control the mere touches. If he could, he would never let you go, for once he let you go run in front of him and one unfortunate accident almost took you away forever. He saw how your pretty robes fluttered in the late summer wind, but instead of being the light, flowy fabric it could have ended stained with dark blood.

And this he will never allow.

#—writing.#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #ayato x reader #ayato x you

572 notes · View notes

ukulele-mixtape · 4 months ago

Text

Maple Scraps: The Siren's Call Chapters 12 + 13 (i don't feel like posting them separately lol)

context: angst scenes. tune got outed as the siren when eggman attacks restoration hq and basically destroys all of tune's hard work by making metal sonic install a vocal distortion collar on her, forcing the voices she's taken to retreat back to their owners and her own going to metal sonic, rendering her completely mute. silver and sonic confront her.

this was the last set of chapters i worked on bc then i realized i actually had to finish the fic properly, and even then the chapter's unfinished and ends completely abruptly (i have no desire to actually finish it) LMAO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

CHAPTER 12:

“Twili…o quis,

..shu ento…vi.

Abed…so…on,

Qwe…olda..e...”

A song. A voice, no, multiple voices chimed in like a prayer floating in the wind, faint and pure.

It was beautiful. It was quiet. It was eerie. It was haunting.

…Where…was this…?

The voices continued, but they were no longer beautiful. They were destructive. They were blinding. They were painful. It was agony. Static rang, filling the fabric of reality and mercilessly breaking it at the seams. The broken choir sounded as if they were being signaled off from a dying record player. There was nothing left in their wake. Nothing could stop them. Nothing at all. He felt the world shake around him, every corner of this endless void of nothingness was out to get him.

It was just pure noise! Noise filled the air! It wouldn’t shut up, it wouldn't stop no matter how hard he tried to scream, to yell anything! He wanted to scream, please, let him scream! Let him do anything!!

“Mu…as on…se,

Aln…ov…luuv...

tWli vO eqUiS,

aln nIv wO OLDANCE–”

STATIC FILLED EVERYTHING. EVERY THOUGHT, EVERY BREATH. MORE AND MORE, UNTIL HE COULD NO LONGER HEAR THE CHOIRS HAUNTING MELODY. UNTIL THE STATIC WAS ALL THAT WAS LEFT.

IT WAS TORTURE! OVERSTIMULATING!! HE COULDN’T TAKE IT!!!

WHY WAS IT SO LOUD?!

W H A T W A S T H A T M E L O D Y–?!

Sonic woke up with a heaving gasp. He struggled for oxygen. For anything he could grab onto as he jolted forward from his bed, head beaded with sweat. His breath was shallow, harsh, like if he had just gotten out of the deepest, darkest trenches of the ocean after struggling to surface for weeks. But just like he’d been dealing with for the past month and a half, his mouth uttered no sound. The echoes of his dream rang in his ears, clinging to his brain and bashing itself into his psyche. His head was pounding, the worst migraine he’d ever experienced in his life mangled his skull, and he couldn't think clearly at all. The warm light of the room was too much for him to bear, piercing into his eyes and causing him to squint harshly. He could see specks of color from the corners of his vision, floating around as if to mock his current suffering.

What the hell was this?

He couldn’t hear a thing. The ringing in his head became louder. And this time, he’d finally understand that he couldn’t ignore it, he couldn’t just think it’d eventually go away. Not this time.

Everything seemed to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and plugged his ears, trying to get any sensory input to be as muffled as possible. But no matter what, it’d still hurt; the pain dreadfully persisted. He wouldn’t notice the periodic yelling of his name was getting more frantic, but he did feel every vibration it had to offer even from far away. He was sensitive to everything around him, and he hated it. He was completely, totally, debilitated. Just like in that void of endless harmony.

Finally, for what felt like an eternity, he felt firm grips on both his wrists that he clung close to his face as he clenched his hands into tight fists, and he had to forcefully pry his eyes open to take in Silver's overly distressed expression staring back widely at him.

“I’m right here,” Silver repeated over and over breathlessly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise, I’m right here.”

But as soon as Sonic took notice, suddenly, like if it never happened, the noise just…completely stopped. The pain evaporated, the ringing silenced and he was finally able to take in his surroundings clearly, his body relaxing after a good long while of unconsciously being tense, a deep inaudible sigh exiting his mouth before he even had the ability to even process it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Silver brought Sonic back to reality, releasing the blue hedgehog’s wrists and cupping his face gently with his hands. Sonic felt Silver’s warmth even under his gloves, a soothing feeling washed over him. He closed his eyes, sleepily smiling and gave a small nod in response. He placed one of his hands atop one of Silver’s at his face, taking another deep breath and sighing, feeling the way Silver would rub his thumb against his soft muzzle.

“Y-you sure?” Silver questioned again, his tone quivering a bit. “You…you looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

Sonic took his hand off Silver’s, signaled for him to look down and began signing.

“I’m fine. It’s gone now.” his nimble hands spoke for him.

Silver, ever the worrier, shook his head with an elongated breathy sigh. “You really scared me. If I hadn’t come, I feel like you would have been like that for a lot longer.”

“I’m sorry, I promise, it’s over. I’m good.”

“Promise?”

Sonic warmly looked back at his partner, leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. Once Silver had that predictable blush festering on his cheeks, that soft grin he’d love to watch for eternity, he signed once more pointing one finger to his lips, before setting it down on his opposite hand balled into a fist.

“I promise.”

Reluctant, but deciding to trust him, Silver tightly embraced Sonic quietly, feeling the way Sonic’s body reflected his once frantically beating heart now starting to slow down into a soft, comfortable rhythm.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Silver softly uttered. “That weird dream.”

Sonic gave him a small nod in return.

“That’s the first I've seen you get this bad before. I got up earlier than you did, so I just wanted to take a walk and get some air.” Silver rambled off, shuttering. “And when I came back you were holding your chest like you were having a heart attack! I tried nudging you at least a million times to wake you up, but nothing was working. You weren’t responding this time. And when you did wake up, you started convulsing and I didn’t know what to do, Sonic. I didn’t know, and you…” He trailed off.

Sonic rubbed against Silver’s back quietly, patting him gently to urge him to finish his thought.

“...You looked like hell. You didn’t register anything. We’ve been here at least a few minutes now.”

Had it really been that long this time? Sonic grimaced at the thought, choosing to tighten his grip on Silver and feeling the edges of his tuft tickle his nose, sinking deeper. Years ago, he’d probably never be this touchy feely with anyone. But now, he’d make any excuse to cling onto Silver like he was the last man on earth when they were alone. Silver reciprocated in kind.

“You shouldn’t have to go through this.” he mourned. “And I know you’re tough, I get it. We’ll get through this like we do everything else. But…I still can’t help but feel like I'm failing you right now because I don’t know what to do to help you. I should have been there with you the day you got your voice taken. I should have been there to protect you both.”

Sonic shook his head, rubbing soothing circles on Silver’s back, causing him to pull Sonic closer.

“I know…” Silver muttered affectionately. “What’s done is done. And I know we’ve got this. We’ve got this, and will fix this and we’ll do it together. Just like we always do.”

Sonic nodded once more, a smile gracing his features that Silver couldn’t see just yet. Silver could feel Sonic’s breathing become slower, more relaxed. But…he still couldn’t hear it. It made Silver’s heart ache. Sonic’s voice was truly gone. Silver couldn’t help but at least try to imagine what he remembered of it, goofy and cocky and full of life. His laughter was chirpy and quick, his tone lower in recent years yet still full of that same energy Silver knew and loved. Even if it had only been a short time, Silver felt like not hearing Sonic’s precious way of speaking was crushing him. Like he lost a part of what made him him.

And every time he’d turn the corner, Silver could see Sonic reflexively try to sound anything he could while he mingled with his friends. And when Silver noticed how inevitably disappointed he’d be when nothing came out, taking out his phone and tapping away his desires to show whomever it was, when he had to start reteaching himself and reusing sign language, something he hadn’t wanted to use since he was little, it bore into Silver’s chest, reminding him of how much he’d scorn the person who had robbed Sonic of that freedom he so desperately wanted back.

Eventually, Silver was shifting forward for Sonic to lay back on the bed, resting his ear against Sonic’s chest and taking in the way his heartbeat thumped against his ribs, the closest he was ever going to get to any noise coming from his partner. He sighed, Sonic swiping a hand against Silver’s quills. And they just laid there for a while, just basking in each other's warmth. Sonic patted Silver’s head gently to get his attention soon, and slowly the psychic obliged, raising his head and placing his chin comfortably on Sonic’s chest, their noses just barely touching, sharing a loving gaze with each other, their minds confident and resolute.

They’d been through the worst of the worst in the past, fighting off time manipulating monsters and killer robots, doppelgangers and zombie hordes alike. There was nothing these two couldn’t handle; not just together, but with every ally they'd ever known, every friend they’d ever made. Regardless of the circumstances, Sonic knew they were in good hands and with a toothy grin and his playful tongue out, he would remind Silver of the same. Sonic may have lost his voice, but that alone wasn’t what made him who he was. He was everything, he was the world that Silver was desperate to protect.

The two leaned in for another good morning kiss, routine as usual…

And that’s when they heard the firing of something loud from above them, so loud the sound echoed for a few seconds into the atmosphere. Then, a deep booming crash, and the sound of yelling coming from just outside their room, the vibrations causing small pebbles from the ceiling to fall, startling the two out of their shared bed.

“What the heck was that?!” Silver’s beading golden eyes flared, head jolting in every direction.

Sonic wasted no time, rising to his feet and throwing on his sneakers, snatching the door open and taking off, a powerful gust of wind trailing behind him as he sped past the hallways. Silver was right on his tail, flying to follow Sonic down to the main hall. People were scrambling to gather their bearings, yelling and running towards the closest emergency exits they could find, some of which were blocked off by heavy metal panels torn from the roof. There was a gaping circular hole in the center of the upper wall in the main hall, smashed and crawling with badniks making their way inside. Small fires were erupting, stone and metal paneled debris littered the floor, causing a few people to stumble.

Sonic waved in Silver’s face from above, signing quickly at him.

“Get that debris cleared from the exits, I'll help take out those badniks!”

“On it!” And with that, Silver was off, charging up a boost of energy to send him skyrocketing across the clamor, starting with the most crowded area of the headquarters, the main entrance. A large, looming boulder stood in the way, glass shards everywhere, most likely it was chucked at the window and landed square at the door. With a strong clench of his fingers, Silver took a deep breath and clawed his hands, performing a raising motion of his arms, a blue aura forming around the boulder. Slowly but surely, it was moving upward, rising from the sky almost like magic. The scrambling civilians would take off, some thanking Silver in scattered chirps as he held onto the boulder as best he could. Once a good amount of people were out of the way, Silver lowered the boulder to face right next to the entrance, unable to do anything more than that for the time being: there were still blockages to free up.

–

The robots may have not been all that tough, but they came in droves and were quick as can be, circling around the blue hedgehog in waves. Sonic blazed into the hordes of the badniks littering the floors. Flying Spina’s came from above, slicing into the air, but Sonic quickly dodged and attacked, utilizing an already destroyed Motobug as a weapon, sending at least a few Spinas into the nearest wall with a hard metallic SLAM! Then came the Buzzbomers and Egg Pawns. A cocky smile etched into his muzzle as Sonic quickly disposed of the trash, revving up a spin dash into the crowd of Egg Pawns, the robots barely having a moment to even swing at him with their pointed swords.

Once they were taken care of, he’d homing attack into the Buzzbomers charging straight for him, bashing in their heads, small explosions raging behind him. And just as Sonic thought it was over, giving a flick to his nose in satisfaction and wiping his hands clean as he landed swiftly on the ground, a swing from a very familiar hammer came just beyond his peripheral vision, taking out a leftover Egg Pawn he’d neglected, leaving a large, heavy imprinted dent on the robot’s head. He watched as it fell motionless, and Amy casually swept in to meet his gaze, his posture showcasing how taken aback he was as she casually leaned her body against the weight of her Piko Piko Hammer. Nevertheless, he was thrilled to see her, giving her a big thumbs up.

“You missed one,” she mocked teasingly. Sonic sucked in his teeth playfully, crossing his arms mouthing a quick “Thanks, Ames”.

“The Diamond Cutters are with Silver; they’re helping out with the hordes invading just outside the main entrance, but there’s apparently still commotion coming from the shopping center. Let’s get down there!”

Sonic nodded in understanding, scooping up Amy in his arms bridal style, speeding towards the shopping center's direction. From the distance, they could see more badniks, larger and covered in tough armor, but strangely enough, entering the fray of the nearby shopping center were three mechanical Mobian-like beings, haunting distorted noises echoing from their caged mouths. They had smooth paneled heads with embedded over-ear headphones on the side and a faceplate with a colorful equalizer where their eyes should have been. They sported arms with mechanical drum hands, and their torsos were devoid of legs, a large disco ball-like base in place of them spinning around and allowing them to float.

The two didn’t hesitate, Amy taking a direct assault at any robot dumb enough to get close, effortlessly slamming her hammer against their hard metal frames. Sonic confidently allowed her to work her magic, zipping past and making sure to keep her protected, dodging all obstacles. The badniks were taken care of swiftly, but now it was time for the Robo-Mobian creatures. Determined, Amy called out to Sonic:

“Sonic! Croquette Bomber!” Oh yeah, this was so happening.

Sonic gently placed Amy down, excitedly getting into a ready position before revving up another spin dash, this time much faster, the speed taking off tiny bits of the floor as he rolled. Amy steadied her aim with a focused tongue to the side of her mouth, widening her stance and bending her knees, before swinging her hammer with the force of a thousand suns. Sonic went flying, but before he was able to even make a connection, the Robo-Mobians screeched a loud, high pitched noise, a sonar-like wavelength warping the area causing Sonic and Amy to groan out in pain. Sonic lost his balance, tumbling forward and reflexively covered his ears to muffle out the noise, but as soon as he did, he was viciously tackled by the neck to the wall of the clothing boutique by another one of the Robo-Mobians. Amy ran towards the blue hedgehog, readying another swing, but another screech from the other two Robo-Mobians decidedly ended her attempt to save Sonic, making her collapse in distress, her hammer falling close behind as she covered her ears.

“Amy!” Sonic mouthed out in alarm. Squirming in place, he managed to get a harsh kick to the chest on the Robo-Mobian in front of him, forcing it to crash into the other robot, freeing himself. He was on his feet in a flash, rushing towards Amy’s trembling side, placing a hand on her shoulder. Amy gave a quivering nod of assurance, looking shakily at the enemies before them.

“W-what are those things?” she whimpered. “They don’t look anything like the usual Eggman robots.”

Sonic shook his head in response. The Robo-Mobians quickly recovered, speeding towards their opponents and readying their drum hands, flying into the air preparing to go in for a smash. Sonic acted fast, snatching Amy away and hopping to the top of the boutiques shop, the latter grabbing her hammer as quickly as she could, before the robots broke through the tile, the floor violently crumbling away.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Amy called out. “We can’t take these things alone, they’ll just keep using that awful noise to down us again.”

She was interrupted by the Robo-Mobians charging their flight once more, ready to take off against the hedgehog duo, when suddenly…

“...You better step off!” A ear piercing roar followed by a massive energy blast came from just beyond, knocking the Robo-Mobians into the glass of the clothing store. Tune clumsily stepped into the limelight, heaving breaths as her eyes glowed a vicious yellow hue, her fashion glasses placed firmly on her head. Her demeanor said everything: she was overwhelmingly pissed.

“Yo, any day today y’all!” She annoyingly called out. “Get your butts in gear and help me take care of these goons!”

It took a second, but Sonic recovered leaping into action, Amy following close behind and running up to a rising Robo-Mobian, giving a hearty punch in its direction, finishing the job Tune started. The robot was sent packing, exploding from out far, bits of its body scattering. As they did, colorful red, blue and green auras emanated from their cores, Tune’s eyes widened in horror as they scattered into the distance.

Amy lept in for the other robot ready to ambush Tune from behind, slamming its head into the tile with her hammer hard, the mechanical pieces dripping when she lifted up the mallet, another purple aura materializing and floating away. The three were breathing hard, Tune much more so than the others, having a moment to finally recuperate. Once they were able to catch their breaths fully, Amy and Sonic both gave bright smiles to Tune, walking towards her carefully. But Tune was solely focused on the machine just in front of her, its body twitching weakly as a teal colored vapor seeped out of the wires of its chest cavity.

It couldn’t have been…

“Tune!” Amy cried, raising her arms in an attempt to give Tune a hug. “We didn’t know you could do something like that! Thanks for the save–”

“...This is...a Melodian.” Tune whimpered, halting them in their tracks, the duo taking note of her clawed hands balling into tight fists, so tight in fact they swore they could see her piercing herself. “I thought...what's with the robots? It's only supposed to be Alto's influence stretched out...”

The teal colored vapor circled around the robot's carcass weakly, Tune collapsing onto the floor in an attempt to cup it in her hands. A tiny voice was heard from its light, a song echoing into the wind faintly, as if it was slowly dying in Tune’s trembling hands.

“No! P-please don’t go!” the girl pleaded. “I just need more time! Please just give me more time to fix things!”

Despite her wishes, the materialized voice was fading, and fast. Tune cried out in horror, trying anything in her power to keep the tiny voice to herself, protecting it like a tortured mother. “I’m begging you! l can't fail you too!”

The hedgehog duo could only watch as the magical vapor slowly but surely drifted away into the atmosphere, and the world around them became morbidly quiet. Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t good, emphasized by Tune’s wailing exclamation, reaching into the air for nothing.

“Tune?” Amy worriedly stepped forward, reaching out her hand, but before she could she was stopped by Tune’s strikingly widened glare, her eyes still glowing that dangerous purple aura.

“Get away from me.” she spat, her body shuddering in her hysteria. “Do yourself a favor and leave me out of…whatever this is.”

“W-what?” Amy said exasperated. “But we could really use your help! Restoration HQ still has areas that need clearing out of Eggman’s robots. People need us to get them out–”

“Y’all should be thinking of a way to get yourselves out of here, not wasting your time helping people perfectly capable of handling themselves! Your friends already got most of the people evacuated anyway.” Tune gestured to the twitching robots on the ground with a sneer. “What, you think more of those things ain’t coming? They’re based on Melodist tech. There has to be at least hundreds, maybe even thousands of them wrecking havoc all over the place! That crazy doctor must’ve had a hand on this. He's obviously working with Alto to sabotage everything. They’ll destroy your ears before you even have the chance to look the other way.” The hedgehog duo tilted their heads in confusion.

“Wait, ‘Melodist’ tech? 'Alto'?” Amy chirped. “What are you talking about?”

“T-that’s–” Tune’s heart stopped in her chest, her big mouth opening against her better judgment. “...Not important. Look, just get the rest of your posse and get out of here, unless you want to end up like her.” She pointed towards the now still, lifeless carcass of the robot in front of her. “This place is done for. So much for that security you promised. ” Her last words seeped out like venom.

“Tune wait, we’re not leaving you like this after all that!” Amy pleaded, reaching out her hand.

“...Goodbye, Amy.” Tune muttered out, activating her skates and readying herself to take off. Her view of the exit was suddenly blocked off by Sonic’s body, who had been silently watching the whole conversation take place, taking the initiative to speed in front of her with his hands stretched out. He glared at her with those same knowing eyes she couldn’t stand to face. It was disapproving, he was staring right through her once again, almost as if to say “I thought you were better than this”. It was well deserved, and Tune soon found that pit in her stomach growing once more. Turning her head, she quietly uttered a tiny sound. “I promise to fix this…but I need to do it alone. I’m not allowing you to get involved in my mistakes anymore than you already are.”

Tune pushed Sonic aside roughly, causing him to stumble back a little. But before she could even take a step to skate off, there was a blue blur. Tune was tackled from the side right as she went to take her leave, familiar metal claws grabbed at her shoulders and sent her speeding off into the air with a scream, causing her to drop the blaster and her glasses falling off her head.

“W-what the hell?!” Tune cried out angrily, frantic eyes darting. “Get off me, you creep!”

Amy gasped as she pointed towards the two flying figures. “Sonic, that’s…!”

They recognized it immediately: Metal Sonic, exiting the gaping hole in the window and heading outside, Tune frantically thrashing against him, kicking and screaming the whole way. Eggman had to be there. They needed to catch up fast. With a shared nod of understanding, Sonic once more grabbed Amy and sped off, his pace allowing him to effortlessly climb the window and jump out of the hole, just in time to see Metal Sonic slam Tune down onto the ground mercilessly.

From across the battlefield, Silver and the Diamond Cutters were locked and loaded in the fray against Eggman himself, in a gigantic towering battle mech. They had no time to react to Tune’s predicament, Silver launching Tangle, who in turn held a wispon welding Whisper wrapped around her stretchy tail, right atop the mech’s arm. Whisper went in for a disarming blow, utilizing her purple wisp in an attempt to saw off the forearm. Tangle whipped around the body, going straight for Eggman’s cockpit. Silver threw her a large rock, Tangle grabbing it by the tail before immediately smashing it into the glass.

“You pesky rodents just don’t know when to call it quits!” Eggman growled, his voice projected through an audio receiver on his mech. “My beautiful creations are too good for you; Now, get off my mech!” With a push of a button and a crank of a lever, the mech’s body started wildly spinning in place, Tangle and Whisper trying desperately to hold on, but ultimately were flung off, Silver just managing to grab a hold of the two and gently settling them down on the ground once more.

“Eggman, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tune glared at the man piloting the mech, snarling. “I should have taken you down when I had the chance back in Melodia-!” Metal Sonic only tightened his grip as if in response to her threat, making her groan out in pain.

Eggman’s cackle echoed into the atmosphere, wicked and cocky. “My dear, you seem to have strayed a bit too far from home and caused quite the stir. Tell me, what was your plan here? To rid the entire world of voice in a pathetic attempt to spare people from Alto? How absolutely absurd. But no matter. So as long as you behave yourself, your pathetic life will be spared. After all, you have the highest honor of letting your voice be used for something greater than yourself, and I'd hate for you to miss it.” He grabbed onto his mic, calling out to his favorite creation from beyond. “Metal Sonic, get the Harmonic Distortion collar on the girl and get back to base. As much as I’d love to toy with these fools, we’ve no need to stick around.”

Everyone’s blood went cold, turning to face the chaos ensuing beyond. It felt like every bone on Tune’s body was breaking, her frame completely surrounded by larger badniks, tall and looming. Her hands interlaced with Metal Sonic’s harshly, her body struggling to hold on, Sonic and Amy fast approaching trying to burst through and help, Amy calling out her name in desperation as she and Sonic fought the onslaught of robots, Silver and the Diamond Cutters hot on their tails, rushing to their defense.

“ORDERS ACKNOWLEDGED: SUBJECT ‘FORMER MELODIST MAESTRO’ IDENTIFIED.” Metal Sonic’s low, threatening voice rumbled. “INITIATING VOCAL SUPPRESSION PROTOCOL.”

Tune was losing consciousness and fast. She whimpered against Metal Sonic’s restraint, mentally forcing her arms to try and fight against his overwhelming strength. She could see the chaos ensuing around her from the corner of her eye, how everyone was desperately struggling to reach her, how Sonic and Silver raced against the clock, trashing every single robot in their wake just to attempt to get Metal Sonic off her, but were constantly being swarmed by more and more badniks. Silver would use his power to sweep them away, but more would just come, seemingly out of thin air. This was getting nowhere, they were losing. They were losing hard. She had no choice.

I need a way out, she thought to herself. I need this to end. For them.

Breathing in as deep as she could, she tried to attack, focusing all her energy into another sonar wave, much more powerful than her usual ones. Everyone’s eyes widened in shock as a faint glowing aura formed around her body, her eyes glowing in similar fashion. Her hair raised to the sky and a choir screamed out from Tune’s vocal chords, a lower register male voice added to the mix echoing a guttural, angered sound.

But even with all the voices combined, it wasn’t enough. Metal Sonic was fast, too fast for Tune to even manage to yell out for more than a millisecond, engaging Tune with a violent sucker punch to her cheek, her head shooting to the side with a yelp from the impact. She swore she could see one of her sharp canines being involuntarily spit out through her already blurry vision. Even despite everything, she struggled to try again, determined.

Another punch, more ferocious than the last, Tune saw stars. But she kept going, her aura quickly weakening, eyes glazed over.

Her aura melted away, Tune’s voice thoroughly silenced with another punch, this time directly onto her skull. The world was spinning. Metal Sonic’s chest cavity opened revealing a wired storage compartment with a thin collar embedded with a strange looking speaker, forcing it upon Tune’s neck, electricity zapping every nerve and muscle in her body. Her entire being was on fire, her muscles violently shook and contorted. Her eyes and mouth glowed sickly yellow as hundreds of lights aggressively materialized and scattered out, like she was vomiting a morbid rainbow of sound, screams heard throughout every corner.

Finally, when the mesh of colors floated into the air, a single, solitary yellow aura slithered softly from Tune’s body. She desperately tried to reach for it aimlessly, her eyes widened in agony and fear. To her horror, it was placed directly into Metal Sonic’s chest cavity, morphing as a small, pulsing energy ball, a familiar melody singing in its hue, caged into a small capsule. The world was slowly going black.

“N-no…Al…to….” Tune gave one last gurgle before her body finally gave out on her abruptly, rendering her completely unconscious in the middle of the field.

As the auras of screams scattered into the wind, a blue aura shot directly beyond the crowd of robots and straight to Sonic at inhuman speed, his body contorting as it entered his being. He grabbed at his throat instinctively, and for the first time in months, he could hear himself breath, gasping for air and falling to the ground, Amy barely managing to keep him from completely collapsing.

“Sonic!” Amy yelped, setting her hammer aside to grab onto his shoulders.

“Amy…” Sonic finally managed to get the words out raspily, hearing his own tone felt foreign to him.

“TARGET NEUTRALIZED.”

Eggman once more laughed maniacally, watching as Metal Sonic grabbed Tune’s limp body from the ground by her newly attached collar, throwing her to the side like if she was nothing more than garbage ready to be disposed of.

“Great work,” Eggman toothy grinned. “Let’s see this pesky little Melodist try to gather more voices now that Metal Sonic has claimed her power. The Dominion Hymn will be mine once I find the key to making Alto submit to me entirely. I'll come back for the rest of those voices soon enough. Now, all units: get back to the ship!”

Eggman began to take his exit, taking one last conniving look at Tune’s body, grinning devilishly. “Congratulations, my dear. You've just granted me the key to control much more than just Melodia.”

And with that, just as soon as they arrived, Eggman’s robots scattered, any who were being attacked would quickly evade and march onward. Soon enough, they would all clamor to Eggman’s humongous battleship above, ascending from multiple floating platforms awaiting their arrival. Eggman followed suit, and even when the Restoration members all tried their very best to knock him back down, it didn’t matter. He escaped confidently, his mocking laughter echoing in their faces, stretching across the atmosphere, a product of their failure…

It was eerily somber, a light wind all that sounded off as the battleship flew away. The fires had been dealt with, the citizen’s properly looked after, but the damage to Restoration HQ was massive. It would take several months for them to fix the ramifications of Eggman’s swift invasion. No one had any excuses, no explanation.

But Sonic? He could only stare back at Tune’s softly breathing frame as medics would arrive on the scene to drag her tarnished and unconscious body away to the nearest medical station. The world stood still around him, even as reinforcements and medic squads came to access the damage. He could only take in Eggman’s words. It was all that etched into his brain:

“Let’s see this pesky little Melodist try to gather more voices now.”

That’s what he said. But it couldn’t be…It just couldn’t. But his fragmented memories, the ones laid at his feet for months since his voice was taken, flickered in his brain, painfully playing out like racing film. The fight in Casinopolis, the electrifying kiss, 'Rhythm’s' mournful expression as she bowed to him as if he was her only audience member, and most importantly…that haunting, choir-like voice, echoing inside the dark walls of the venue; the same voice from Sonic’s nightmarish visions, the same one heard coming from her mouth. It all came back to him. Her attempt to stop Metal Sonic’s assault proved everything. He could no longer deny it.

Tune was the Siren they’d been searching for. She’d been hiding right under their noses the whole time just waiting for her opportunity to strike. And Sonic had unknowingly welcomed her into their lives with open arms.

When Tune was safely placed on the emergency stretcher, Sonic turned to the rest of his friends with a dazed shake of his head, trotting in their direction. His heart skipped a whole few beats when he noticed Silver’s contemplative, dark expression staring daggers at Tune being dragged away. It was almost like he was debating charging towards her and doing something Sonic knew he’d be more than capable of. He’d seen that look before, he had been on the other end of that look before in the past. And he knew exactly what it meant.

So with a swift movement, before Silver could even take that first step, Sonic grabbed onto his shoulder, squeezing it tight. Silver couldn’t help but glare at him, his tunnel vision shifting only slightly by the blue hedgehog.

“She’s the one who did it: She’s the Siren.” Silver all but growled. “She’s been stealing people’s voices away like they were tools.” His frustrated voice was getting louder with every passing sentence. “She’s been using us this whole time and we never questioned it for a second! She could have been plotting this whole time to steal the entire Restoration’s voices and we would have submitted to it immediately without ever even realizing it!”

“Calm down, Silver.” Amy’s voice chirped from behind. “We can’t just start assuming things we don’t know the full details of.”

“Amy’s right,” Tangle’s voice broke through. “I mean, she could have done it when she first arrived, but she didn’t. That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t trust that she won’t try to, now that she’s been fully outed.” Whisper softly refuted. “We don’t know the full scope of her power. We don’t know her motive. But she’s a threat nonetheless. She needs to be put down.”

“We can’t do that to her!” Amy frustratedly argued. “If nothing else, we need to know the why before we can come up with a plan going forward.”

“Does it even matter at this point?!” Silver angrily retorted. “She stole the voices of countless other people who could potentially be suffering through the same thing, and she’s been lying to our faces about it the whole time. How can you defend that?!”

“I’m not,” Amy calmly stated, her palm raised to try and put an end to Silver’s line of thinking. “What I’m saying is that if we want to have any chance of fixing it, we need to get her to talk. And she can’t do that if she’s being beaten to a pulp while she’s still down.”

Silver went to argue once more, but Sonic’s firm grip brought him back to reality, his eyes darting towards his partner, who’s stern yet determined look made Silver stop in his tracks. Releasing Silver’s shoulders, Sonic spoke up:

“Silver...” He raspily said, noticing how Silver’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Silver latched onto Sonic’s cheeks, emotions layered in every corner of the psychic's expression.

“Y-you’re…” he trailed off.

“I’m here.” Sonic grinned, if only to try and ease the overwhelming tension. “I’m back.”

Silver grabbed onto Sonic like a lifeline, tightly embracing him as if he’d never see him again for as long as he lived.

When Tune was physically capable, when she would finally wake, they’d have much to discuss.

CHAPTER 13:

Silver was stationed firmly outside Tune’s room in the infirmary. He was never allowed in, and was told countless times by multiple staff members and friends alike to give it a rest. But he refused. For days while Tune recovered, still unconscious, he sat there just outside her door for hours at a time, only leaving when he needed to help out rebuilding and to check on his miraculously undamaged garden.

He was awaiting her return. For anything. He was unbelievably angry, conflicted. He felt mournful and betrayed all at the same time. His mind went back to all the times he’d put himself out for Tune, how he’d chosen to make friends with the same person who’d stolen his beloved’s identity away. How she fought tooth and nail to retain that identity, only to be forcefully restrained and revoked of that privilege.

Whatever Tune was plotting, Silver wanted to be the first to know. For all the fighting, the attempts to make her as comfortable as possible around the members of the Restoration, his overwhelming patience to watch her float around the bushes whenever they’d attempt to get her to talk about anything regarding herself that didn’t involve the bare minimum factoids, Silver wouldn’t allow her to escape from this. Because at this moment, the consequences of what she did now became a matter of personal vendetta. His future was once again at stake for the first time in years, and she was solely the one to blame. He’d get to the bottom of it, he’d enact justice for the people she’d taken the liberties from.

And if she refuted at any point, he was ready to do whatever it took to get her to confess.

Despite his anger, Silver couldn’t help going back to the night on top of the greenhouse. Her foul attitude since that day had mended slightly, but her demeanor and insight about herself still lingered on in his brain:

“Don’t you think you should give this to someone who’d actually deserve it?”

“I don’t deserve y'all's kindness.”

“Y’all need to learn to put that energy towards people who need it more. People who deserve it.”

But the last conversation Silver would have with her, the day Sonic and him joined her on the sands on their trip to the beach, right before she planned to leave for New Mobotropolis, watching the waves go by and the world drift away, stuck to his angry, breaking heart.

“I can’t promise to spill my secrets right away. Frankly, I’m still of the mindset that y’all would hate me forever once I did. But I want to get better. It’ll be slow, but I’m willing to put in the work.”

And the daunting question still floating in the air, an unconscious plea for help.

“Can you guys be patient with me a little longer while I work my way towards that?”

Without Silver knowing, Tune had basically laid out the facts of her apparent turmoil with each conversation they’d have. And she had warned them directly: they’d hate her if she spoke about her past. He was reluctant to admit it, but there was a lot of truth to that statement. If not hatred, resentment felt more appropriate. Resentment and frustration for her selfish actions, even if she couldn’t have known how this would have affected him personally.

When the door to Tune’s medical room opened up for the third time that day, after about a week of empty updates on her condition, a nurse in a white lab coat was the first to acknowledge his presence.

“She’s awake.”

Silver suddenly felt his blood go cold. Would he have the heart to do it alone? To step inside and confront her dead on? Should he?

…He gave a small nod to the nurse, pulled out his phone, and gave a quick text to Sonic. It was quick, direct and to the point.

“Come down to the ward.”

It didn’t take long for Sonic to get the message, decidedly leaving Silver on ‘read’ before dashing towards the medical ward. When he got there, it was dim, the atmosphere stifling. The looming energy that Silver was exuding was so out of place for him, it was dreadfully painful watching him contemplate everything right then and there. Sonic joined him by the front door, taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. The nurse awaiting the speedster, opened her mouth to speak.

“Before you go in, there’s something you should know.” she began. The two hedgehogs looked at the nurse as she spoke, listening intently. “She’s stable, but she’s…she lacks focus. And whatever that collar that Metal Sonic put on her won’t come off no matter how hard we’ve tried. He took a direct assault towards her brain, and, well, due to the impacts and slight fractures she suffered through, she seems unwilling to speak a word since she’s woken up.”

Of course. It could never be that easy.

“Due to how fragile the situation is, it’s best not to stress her out too much.” the nurse continued, clasping her fingers together. “I know this is hard for the both of you, but if I can ask, please: Try to remain as calm as you can while you speak to her.”

Despite the nurse's insistence, the duo pressed on. With another firm squeeze of each other's hand and a nod to the nurse, from both of them this time, Sonic and Silver pushed the door open and entered the room.

There, lying in a hospital bed with a full tray of food she was aimlessly pushing around, was the Siren. The two walked up to her quietly, Silver’s stoney expression hardened on his face. They both took the double seat farthest from her bed, unable (or rather, unwilling) to really get much closer. She barely acknowledged them, choosing to stare blankly at her tray. Frustrated, Silver used his power to steal away her spork and tray, placing it atop a nearby table next to the window. When she still didn’t bother raising her head, hands loosely placed atop her lap, he forced her to face them head on, using his power to gently lift it up. Her eyes still barely looked at the two, glazed over and undetermined. Her posture was limp, lifeless.

In essence, her very soul had given up. It was like she was barely hanging on, existing only because her body demanded it. But she herself was absent.

“I’ll get right to the point:” Sonic was the first to speak. “Why’d you do it?”

The Siren stood quiet, unbothered by his interrogation.

“It doesn’t help you any if you keep quiet.” Sonic continued, annoyed. “I think you at least owe us an explanation as to why I had to go months on end with my voice in your throat.”

Still nothing. It was like nothing was registering, or rather she chose to ignore it. Unrelenting, Sonic pressed on, trying a slightly different approach. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, y’know. The entire Restoration’s got your face down. Even if you try to run, we’ll catch you. So why not just fess up now? It’s not like you’ve got anything else to lose.”

Silver glared at the Siren’s glazed over expression, he felt his quills standing up with every passing second.

“You know, just for the sake of it, I decided it best to check on my timeline using a pair of Chaos Emeralds we have hidden away at headquarters. And do you know what I found?” Silver spat out harshly. “A freaking ghost town. People are aimlessly wandering around, and those freaky robots are marching the streets.”

His hands balled into fists, trying to keep calm like the nurse told him, but his emotions were quickly getting the better of him. Surprisingly, his words seemed to have struck…something in the Siren’s core. Her ears twitched at his words, eyelids raising if only ever so slightly.

“You ruined it,” he could barely stop himself. “Because of you, I have to start back from square one. I’m back where I started, like if all the hard work I put into protecting my timeline didn’t matter in the end. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

He saw the Siren gulp involuntarily, her expression softening and eyes glistening slightly as she watched Sonic place a hand on Silver’s back, rubbing circles, but choosing not to take his eyes off of her.

“Why won’t you answer me, damnit?!” Silver yelled out desperately, his eyes shooting out small tears he couldn’t feel himself cry out, a bit of saliva spitting out from his mouth. “Why can’t you just talk to us?!”

The walls of the room reverberated and echoed back at him tauntingly and empty, the Siren wincing slightly. A moment passed as the three locked eyes with each other silently. And then, after an agonizingly long beat, the Siren finally moved without a sound, raising a fist to her chest and circling it around. Sonic and Silver recognized it immediately.

“I’m sorry.” she signed, breathing harshly yet mutedly as she lowered her head once more. She repeatedly circled her fist over and over again as she sobbed, tears falling into her blanket soundlessly. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” The duo sat dumbfounded. There was no way…

“You…can’t be serious.” Sonic muttered out, words escaping him.

The Siren just kept signing over and over, before grasping at her disheveled hair, the green she once wore was now faded almost entirely, revealing its natural black color. Her body mutedly heaved, shuddering as she continued to cry. She was like a child, rocking back and forth as she tried desperately to soothe herself and regain composure, to no avail. She tried signing as much as she could, her hands clumsily voicing what she could not speak.

“I didn’t wanted to hurt you.” she shivered, her errors in sign quite noticeable and movements expressly inexperienced. “I wanted my go home. I wanted to go my home. But my home is wrong. I can’t go home.”

The two hedgehogs didn’t know what to make of it. They had never seen this side of her before. Once she was a confident and brash loudmouth, now a mute, sobbing shell of her former self. It was like she was a completely different person. And it for some reason ached at the two deeply, watching her grovel atop her lone hospital bed, without any outlet but her hands to vocalize her pain, which were now once again occupied, grasping at her head.

Despite every part of himself telling him not to, Silver stood up and took a seat across from the girl. Despite his frustrations and every single part of him telling him it was wrong, there was still some tinge of sympathy watching the Siren pathetically mourn. He couldn’t understand it, but he felt deeply inclined, reaching his arms out to pluck the Siren’s clawed hands from out of her hair and onto his waist, placing both hands on her shoulders. She tried to resist his help instinctively, but he refused to let her. Once she understood, she aimlessly grasped at Silver’s body as she wailed uncontrollably. She kept mouthing out her apologies, despite no one able to hear. Sonic followed shortly afterward, taking a seat right next to the girl opposite of Silver and placing a hand on her back. He was unsure what to do for the first time, watching as her body heaved into his partner's stomach. He took a glance at Silver, who in turn worriedly stared back at him, his mouth thinning into a line. The two were on the same page: they were genuinely at a loss.

It took a while for the girl to recover. But once she was calmed somewhat, she released herself from Silver’s gentle grasp, Sonic removing his hand and resting it behind him, watching as the girl quietly signed off as best as she could.

“My home is in–dangered.” she hesitantly spelled out. “A-l-t-o took it from me. I do voice stealing because it…makes me strong. Makes me strong to chase away A-l-t-o.”

“How does it make you strong?” Sonic asked.

“My voice…” The Siren, unsure of how to sign it, tapped the two hedgehog's chest with dual pointed fingers and gestured openly with her arms, clawing her hands like she was grasping at something on them before pretending to eat something massive. She gulped down, and then stretched an arm out into the distance, the other hand going for her chest like she was an opera singer. Then, she flexed her arms like she was proving something.

“I don’t get it…” Sonic scratched the inside of his ear. “You eat them or something?”

The Siren groaned out mutedly. She scanned the area for something to write on, eyes focused on a lone notepad and a small pen left behind by the nurse. She gestured to it, Silver using a single finger to bring it to her with his power. She scribbled quickly.

“THE MORE VOICES I STEAL, THE MORE POWERFUL MINE BECOMES. IT’S LIKE THEY BECOME PART OF ME. MY INCANTATIONS ARE STRONGER THAT WAY. THEY REACH FURTHER.”

“But that still doesn’t explain the why, Tune.” Silver spoke up. “Why are you doing this? What’s your end goal here?”

She hesitated at first, unsure of how to explain. Silver tried again, desperate for anything she could muster.

"Please, just let us help you. Talk to us, Tune."

There was no turning back. She was already in deep trouble, and it was pointless to try and lie anymore. The words she wrote next were simple and direct, full of the most honesty she forced herself to muster that day.

“I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU.”

‘Protect’? What did that mean? She continued swiftly.

“ALTO CAN STRETCH HIS VOICE TO OTHER PEOPLE AND CONTROL THEIR MINDS. HE LITERALLY FORCES HIMSELF ONTO YOU WITH HIS VOICE. BUT HE CAN’T DO IT TO PEOPLE WHO ARE WITHOUT A VOICE TO MANIPULATE.”

“So you steal other people’s voices so that Alto can’t get to them first?” Sonic asked, grasping at his throat instinctively. “So that day in Casinopolis…”

“I STOLE YOUR VOICE IN AN ATTEMPT TO MAKE SURE YOU DIDN’T FALL VICTIM TO HIS SPELL." The Siren scrawled out. "I WANTED TO DO IT FOR EVERYONE AT THAT VENUE. EVEN IF YOU CAN’T SPEAK, YOU CAN STILL LIVE YOUR LIVES. YOU STILL HAVE OTHER WAYS TO COMMUNICATE. BUT ALTO STRIPS THAT FREE WILL THE MOMENT HE GETS HIS HANDS ON YOU. I HAD TO MAKE THE HARD DECISION. EVEN IF IT MEANT BECOMING THE ENEMY, I CHOSE TO PROTECT.”

“But why not just say something, Tune?” Silver frustratedly reprimanded. “We could have helped you. We would have understood—” A harsh slap on his thigh with her two fingers was all he needed to shut up. She quickly flipped to the next page, already taken nearly half the notepad up in her writing and continued, her annoyance at Silver's comment proved by how her handwriting worsened.

“DO YOU HONESTLY THINK PEOPLE WOULD BE OKAY WITH ME JUST STEALING THEIR VOICE AWAY IF I JUST UP AND ASKED? EVEN IF I HAD THE TIME AND OPPORTUNITY TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING? DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THEY’D BELIEVE ME? BE SO FOR REAL RIGHT NOW.”

“I hate to admit it, but she has a point, Silv.” Sonic sighed.

YADA YADA PLOT DETAILS WRITING IS HARD I LIKE CAMP BETTER OKAY THAT'S THE END YEYYYYY

#maple talking shit #sonic the hedgehog #maple's writing adventures #maple scraps #i'm wholeheartedly not expecting anyone to read this so i am once again imploring ppl to mute that tag bc no i will not stop #i still have a few more i wanna share but one is more lighthearted and the other is a little heavy on the cw #i'll def make sure to label them accordingly but still #had to kinda stop w this bc tune was becoming too broody and i wanted her to end her arc w her being a comedic shithead #which to be fair #the brooding was the initial intent bc she has really bad insecurities and a savior complex #but like it was getting a bit excessive at times LMAO #also i think if i ever write for silver in a more serious context #i really do have to take a step back and make sure he's not how he's written here #something about it just kinda feels off #i did something good in a previous chapter and then i kinda got carried away as i continued #it's a good learning experience but one i wish didn't have to come at the expense of my fav being a bit too ooc for my tastes LMAO #we are learning tho!!! hopefully the campy one i'm working on turns out better #even though silver is completely absent from tune's perspective for a majority of it gdfgjkdflk #sonic oc

0 notes

shurisneakers · 3 years ago

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.��

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

939 notes · View notes

squidproquoclarice · 2 years ago

Text

Yeehawgust Day 2: Cowboy Casanova

Yellowfork, Wyoming

August, 1885

It had been precisely six weeks and five days since Richie had left her in Yellowfork, saying he would go find a good land claim and come back for her soon.

It had been precisely two weeks and four days since Eliza McCready had accepted what the other women at the Golden Spur, and Lionel the bartender, all told her. Richie hadn’t been delayed or laid up by injury or attacked by Indians or bears. He’d asked her for all the money they’d brought from Tennessee for a reason, and it wasn’t to buy land. He was long gone, and the money with him.

Bad enough for the other women working at the saloon to know she’d been fooled, that her insistence that she was only earning her keep until her fiance–though he’d never quite proposed, had he–came back was a silly girl’s acceptance of a blatant lie. They’d known all along. She’d been the naive idiot who let him talk her into his bed, who let him talk her into taking the money as their due from a perpetually skinflint school board, who let him talk her into running away to Wyoming and making it sound like a wonderfully romantic elopement rather than avoiding being caught by Sheriff Jones.

It seemed incredible that a few months ago she’d been the assistant to Maple Grove’s new schoolteacher, Mr. Richard Shaw, and now here she was in Yellowfork, Wyoming, an abandoned fallen woman and a thief working as a waitress. Serving men drinks and dinner when they came in from the goldfields or off the cattle trail, and usually trying to skirt the fine line between a smile enough to charm for a tip, or to avoid the obvious thundercloud of anger just looking to explode, and being perceived as offering herself.

Though sometimes it didn’t much matter. Some of these men fancied themselves a Casanova in cowboy boots, and that any woman working here was fair game whether she said so or not. She’d turned down any number of offers to go upstairs. She might have fallen low, but she wasn’t that kind of a girl. She’d learned. Learned fast which ones to avoid, which ones to fob off with a joke or a little light flirtation, and which ones were lonely and would probably pay well to have a woman serve them their drinks and maybe chat a little.

The one sitting at the corner table almost screamed it, with the hunch of his shoulders as he leaned down a bit, his arms on the tabletop, head half-bowed. The air of brooding isolation hung around him. He wasn’t turned away from the rest of the patrons, but that was no sign of welcoming company, only a man who’d seen enough danger to know not to turn his back in a saloon. She’d seen him grab a whiskey at the bar, find a table, and down the whiskey with the grim purpose of a man who didn’t want to savor it.

She went up to him. “Get you something to go with the whiskey, sir?” He glanced up at her, and she was surprised at how young he looked. Maybe only a few years beyond her own nineteen. He was tall, though, and broad-framed, and that and the gun at his side and the air of resignation had fooled her into thinking him much older. “Special today is stew and biscuits. A big cattle run just come in, so beef’s real fresh.”

“Sure, sounds fine,” he replied. “And miss, what I need most is more whiskey to go with the whiskey. Just bring me the damn bottle, all right?”

She ought to go about her business, but something kept her from leaving. Maybe the possibility of a good tip, because a man determined to drown his sorrows about something would spend money and welcome some sympathy. But beyond that mercenary reality, she felt a spark of something genuine all the same. They always told her it needed to be just business, but sometimes she couldn’t help but feel sorry for some of the men. What a life they lived, where drinking to blind oblivion was the only way to deal with pain. She’d at least been able to cry her heart out, and then burn every little love note Richie had ever hidden for her in the schoolhouse. “You had a rough day of it, mister?”

He looked up at her again, as if surprised she didn’t just nod and bustle off to take care of the stew and the bottle of whiskey. A slight smile touched his lips, rueful and wry. “Kind of a rough few months of it. My family took in another kid and he’s definitely our…father’s favorite, and my girl told me we ain’t never getting married cause she’s marrying someone else.” His voice took on a darker edge. “Her daddy approves of him, of course.”

“Well, if she wouldn’t fight to keep you, then it weren’t an understanding worth keeping.” Though she had to admit that a woman had to be careful in picking her man. She understood that far better now, to her sorrow. Following the call of nothing but romance could leave a girl alone, broke, and ruined.

“Kind of you.” He gestured back towards the bar. “Anyway, I’m just talking nonsense and I’m sure you got plenty to do that don’t involve listening to me whine, so…” Another half-smile, but one a little more genuine, a gleam of humor entering his eyes, an unusual green-blue. “I know you gals usually have to listen to our shit, and pretend like it’s the most profound thing a man ever uttered. No need on my account.”

He was a big and fair man like Richie, which should have made her want to back away. But there was something comforting about him, something that felt real. No pretenses, no flirtations. She glanced around. It was a slow night, and she judged it would stay that way. She gestured to the chair opposite him. “No lies, I got time to talk between patrons if that’s what you’d like. You sound like a fella who needs someone to listen, Mr…”

Now he smiled again, and this one was real, and oddly sweet. “Morgan. Arthur Morgan.”

#yeehawgust #arthur morgan #eliza mccready #yeehawgust 2022 #rdr2 #writing #fic from the parking lot

21 notes · View notes

my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years ago

Note

During one of the parties, the Reader is dared to put of a sweater with another nation's flag. How would Yandere!2p!America, England, Italy and Romano react to seeing their darling in their colors?

Sport gatherings were common among 2ps. A way for them to improve relationships without bloodshed. At least that was always the excuse their bosses gave.

Most of the time the justifications were correct, and a relatively calm evening would ensue. Though, occasionally, things go wrong.

For (Y/N), it started with a simple dare from the Belgian 2p, Zoë. It was easy enough, just wear the colors of another nation. Much to (Y/N)’s surprise Zoë was already prepared with a wool sweater.

Looking back, (Y/N) shouldn’t have agreed. It would have saved her from the hurricane of hurt that followed.

America: Allen thought he was having a good night. A cold beer in hand, his team was winning, and his doll looked like the perfect piece of eye candy. It wasn’t until she escaped the small pack of women that he noticed something. A red and white sweater with a giant maple leaf in the middle had replaced her (F/C) jacket.

The second Allen realized that it was someone else’s flag on his doll, his beer is going to be crushed. The splash is gonna piss off a few of the other nations and cover him in beer.

Allen won’t care. Instead, he told them to piss off as he stormed up to his doll. Grabbing her by the elbow and dragging them to an isolated area. Ignoring her whimpers as he did.

In the silence of their isolation, Allen will demand that she remove the sweater. His voice carried a layer of ice that (Y/N) wouldn’t expect.

Should she go along with it, Allen will give her his jacket to replace the shirt. Standing close throughout the rest of the night acting like an angry guard dog. Ready to punch anyone attempting to cop a look.

If (Y/N) refuses, then Allen’s gonna yell. Ranting and raving like a madman about she is telling the world she belongs to another. How it may even prompt that nation to attack and drag her under their yoke. He couldn’t even stomach the thought of her suffering like that.

Lost in the horrors of potentially losing (Y/N), Allen would rip the sweater. Just enough to scare (Y/N) into taking it off and leaving the gathering.

He may have not wanted her to leave, but at least that claim was gone.

England: Oliver’s calm smile would quickly morph into a sharp frown at the sight of his cupcake in a French flag, the sport is temporally forgotten. Oliver wouldn’t lie that she looked good in the big sweater. The problem also didn’t lie with Its broad stripes and vibrant colors. The issue was how it claimed her for that soggy French fry.

Oliver would act quickly. Not wanting to even entertain the thought of someone usurping him as her lover. He intended on cornering (Y/N) quietly in one of the empty corners of the gathering. Even with his quick action, Oliver could feel the eyes on him as he confronted his darling.

His request would be simple and leave no room for argument.

If Oliver somehow already had gotten together with (Y/N) then I expect she would concede. Taking off the sweater and allowing Oliver to burn it. Especially in front of all his peers showing that any claim they have won’t last.

If they aren’t together, then a fight may occur. (Y/n) would question it and even attempt to retreat from the conflict. Oliver, to not lose too much favor, would back off. As she walked off, Oliver would pull out his royal purple spellbook.

The found spell would change the sweater into his flag with just a snap of his fingers.

Italy: Luciano sat in the dark corner, observing his fellow 2ps. His silver knife danced with the light as he played with the sharp blade, wondering what chaos would be caused this time. Would America and Canada start a bar fight over their teams? Or would Cyprus finally push Turkey over the edge with his insults?

What Luciano didn’t expect was for his Tesoro to walk into the room wearing the German flag.

There would be no wait time. Instead, Luciano would saunter right up to (Y/N). The cruel smile on his face and knife being waved around were the giveaway that something was wrong.

Obviously, (Y/N) backed up, attempting to figure out the situation. She asked questions, while everyone watched as Luciano closed in on her.

Her answer came from the swing of his blade. Not cutting her but shredding the front of her shirt. In (Y/N)’s newfound embarrassment she would cover herself while cursing Luciano. He on the other hand would smile and offer his jacket. Stating that they needed to talk, and the shredded flag was a better look.

(Y/N) would want to avoid more embarrassment and agree to talk. Their discussion would not only reveal the dare but end in her kidnapping. Deeming it an appropriate punishment for defiling herself with another’s flag.

Romano: Fabrizio would be the first to admit that sports weren’t his thing. The only thing that made these gatherings worth it was his bambola. They had been enjoying their time together until Belgium spirited her off to the other women.

He watched as they giggled and mingled about. Curious about what the finer details were.

When (Y/N) came from the center of the group, Fabrizio’s eyes widen. His even breathes became pants.

There she stood in a sweater designed like Spain’s flag.

Fabrizio would be stunned. It seemed like someone in that group had allowed the flag of another to desecrate his darling. He thought it was obvious to everyone that (Y/N) was his, but Fabrizio guessed that someone wanted to see if he was serious.

He would take that challenge.

A deep breath to calm his nerves before Fabrizio made his move.

It was simple enough to escort his bambola out. A simple request for help in his studio. Her agreement came from the curiosity of getting a chance to see his coveted creations.

The jovial mask Fabrizio wore disguised his motives.

Once at the studio, Fabrizio would have her model different outfits. Each one had already been created for her. The excuse of having a mannequin that matched her figure to calm any nerves. The final outfit would be a mix of both their flags.

Much more beautiful than the dirty sweater of his rival and a better claim to his darling.

#2p headcanons #2p hetalia #2p america #2p england #2p romano #2p italy #yandere #2p yandere #yandere hetalia

108 notes · View notes

zuluc · 3 years ago

Text

hello i just had a little vacation and came back to my regularly scheduled lack of sleep 🥲 hope you enjoy this drabble ! this is set in a modern!au and if they are typos im too tired to fix them rn 😀

he really shouldn’t be here, not with your parents downstairs alert as always to make sure you aren’t hanging around with that boy again. they constantly talk ill of him to dissuade you from mentioning or even thinking of him. he’s not good for you, he’ll ruin your clean reputation. a delinquent.

didn’t he run away from home? isn’t he living with that woman who’s always drinking?

he doesn’t say much about his home, but he does mention how he wishes to return one day. visit old friends, maybe, and to show you the sights. one day he hopes, it just isn’t soon.

and the woman in question is boisterous at all times and not at all less responsible when drunk, which is most nights. she can hold her own and takes care of you like her own when you visit. she’d poke fun at the male for making a move so quickly but she forgets that she knows you’ve been together for quite some time. he teases her back, saying that she’s becoming like your parents for not knowing and she’s slightly offended. no offense to them, of course.

he’s a bad influence!

you could laugh in their face about the absurdity of their claims since they haven’t even met him, let alone held a single conversation. instead of vulgar language and slang they could not figure out, your parents would be surprised as to how well-versed he is in literature. his poems capturing much that he observes which now so happen to focus on one particular person.

“hey,” kazuha waves a hand in front of your face and you forget that he’s barely balanced on your window sill. you gasp slightly and grab his hand to help pull him in. he was as quiet as he always was.

it’s a skill he’s perfected to come up to your bedroom window without a peep, making sure to time his climbing on your large front lawn tree with the wind, masking his noise with the sound of the leaves. once you watched him in his entirety climbing and it’s as if he doesn’t even touch the bark, he jumps up like the wind is helping beneath him.

after he shuts your window you’re immediately taken in his arms, the smell of maple and his warm embrace greeting you welcomingly.

“are you alright?” he’s asking, pulling back to hold your face with one hand. his thumb caresses your cheek softly with a gaze set so sweetly on you. “what’s going on in that head of yours, maple leaf?”

kazuha isn’t unaware of your parent’s distaste of him nor is he of your ponderings over it. he doesn’t share much of his feelings about the topic, showing nonchalance against the situation but there is something that makes him uneasy. he hates to voice it out loud as if it could come true and you’d choose that way but he’d never know. not unless he asked.

actually, scratch that. he wasn’t uneasy. he was scared.

you sigh and he tightens the arm around you, still holding your face tenderly. you lift your hands up to hold onto the front of his sweater and lean forward to kiss him. it’s short and sweet and you laugh inwardly when his eyes downcast slightly when you pull away.

“my parents.” you say simply and he tenses. there is a beat of silence before you look up at him, and it surprises you. his expression is somewhat odd, an indescribable way his mouth is curled and how his stare is deadset on something past you. you can tell he isn’t looking at anything in particular but his hand is what gives you the clue.

it’s not touching your cheek now, instead it hovers.

he opens his mouth for a second and closes it.

“kazuha?” you say and he pulls away fully now. his eyes are on your floor and he’s darting them from all corners trying to figure out how to piece his words together.

it may be the first time he’s truly stuck.

“do you,” he starts slowly, having a hard time to let himself look you in the eye, “want to stop this?”

you’re flabbergasted. utterly taken aback. he’s taking small steps to the window but you pull on his wrist to bring him closer to you.

“what are you talking about?” in your head you’re thinking that maybe he’s had it with your complaining of the overprotectiveness, which was what you were going to do, but with his voice shaking you think it may be another thing. “are you crazy? do you think i’d let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

kazuha’s head shoots up at the statement and your mouth in shock after processing your words. you stutter with useless explanations but he just laughs airily with his head thrown back in relief. he hugs you again, the tenseness slowly dying down.

you weren’t lying, your now warm face giving it away. he gave you a sense of freedom away from the suffocation your family provides. you love them, absolutely, but they just wouldn’t let you live your life how you wanted. nothing bad was happening and you were happy, wasn’t that supposed to be enough?

“i thought you were breaking up with me,” he cups your face, a solemn smile shown to you, “dove, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

the next few minutes are filled with the both of you consoling each other, reassuring that no, you were both happy with your relationship and that there were just a few things you both wish could change with external factors. ultimately, between the two of you, everything was fine.

your legs grow more and more tired and from a shifting of your feet kazuha raises a brow and doesn’t think twice in lifting you in his arms. a surprised yelp comes from you and your mom calls up the stairs to ask if you’re okay. you quickly yell back an answer just as he throws you both on your bed, his head coming to cuddle into your neck with his arms around your middle tightly.

“we would have to tell them eventually,” he mutters, his breaths slowly evening out. you nod from your spot, turning to face him better and bringing up your hand to card through his hair.

“eventually.”

your eyes close and you mentally reassure yourself that you locked the door before he came in, slowly bringing yourself to sleep. kazuha tends to leave early in the morning just in case your parents get to suspicious from the lock so your worries die down to nothing.

that is, until he whispers once more.

“tomorrow morning it is.”

#late night thoughts #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact kazuha x reader #genshin impact kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha

258 notes · View notes

prettypinkpuddles · 3 years ago

Text

Sally Face X Black Reader

♡︎𝙰/𝙽: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

♡︎𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: 𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕-𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝙽𝚊𝙵, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟶’𝚜-𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟶’𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚔....

♡︎𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔, 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

“Hey! Close the door!” You squeaked and hid yourself from the burning brightness emitted from the opened door. A small shadow slid through the opening of the door and quickly shut it, the word ‘sorry!’ repeated over and over.

Your eyes quickly readjusted to the darkness and you saw Sal, holding his school bag and a gameboy.

“Hey, Mask Boy.” You wiggles your toes at him and he hummed. “Was school tolerable?”

He shrugged, opening his bag and pulling out an orange car and setting it on the floor. You smiled and reached down to it, rubbing your thumb behind its ear.

“Hi Gizmo!” You grinned at the plump cat and he purred and pushed himself into your touch. Sal chuckled and sat next to his cat and leaned onto your knee. He began rambling about how his day at school was, how boring classes were, Travis, and a new oddity in the school he discovered. You listened to him curiously, albeit getting a bit agitated about Travis and his infuriating antics.

“I’ll come to school with you tomorrow….” You mumbled. “I know I don’t go much anymore, just having you and Larry give me my homework and letting you turn it in, but I’ll go with you guys tomorrow.”

Sal nodded, holding his excitement behind his mask and simply saying ‘ok’.

“You’re smiling under that mask aren’t you?” You teased and he didn’t say anything, just a noise of embarrassment. You giggled and ruffled his hair, continuing with your game.

“Did you get a new character?” Sal asked.

You sighed, “Unfornately no. They just gave me a stupid 4star claymore.”

“Hey! Claymores are badass!” Sal defended with a happy tone.

“That’s why I’d be a bow or pole arm user. Light weapons.”

You scoffed playfully, “Like you could even lift one! I bet they weight like 60 pounds!”

“Nah, catalyst needs no weight at all. Just waving your arms around with attacks.”

“Is that why you main Mona?” Sal smiled, watching as you used Zhongli’s burst to destroy a bunch of fatui.

“Hey! Mona is gorgeous.”

Sal took hold of his cat, stroking his tail. “She’s also very mysterious.”

“Which makes her even better! It’s written in the stars!” You grinned and Sal rolled his eyes.

“Ninguang’s better.”

You began quickly mashing your buttons, trying to defeat the stupid abyss lector in time so you could pass. Sal began chuckling at your rising frustration and when you started shouting for Razor’s burst to recharge, he lost it, bursting into a fit of laughter. You got really close to the TV and began shaking the controller, unleashing a purple wolf made of electro at the hydro abyss mage.

“C’mon! Just dieee!” You groaned and kept slashing the oversized fluff ball until it disintegrated into red ash. The timer stopped and it showed you with two stars. You raised the controller in the air and smiled, falling back onto Sal and cheering for yourself.

“You really hate abyss mages, huh?” He smiled at you and you pouted, raising a middle finger to the screen.

“Fuck you, fuck ya daughter, fuck ya grandmother, fuck ya dead great grandmother. Fuck you, and all ya kids. And your ugly ass motherfucking black ass son!” You jeered at the teasing enemies, a great distain for them in your heart. Sal crawled to sit between your legs and watch you blow through the spiral abyss. He urged you to use your bursts at times and would cheer for you softly whenever you managed to gain three stars. He undid his pigtails and pulled his fingers through them, even using it’s length to try and distract you.

You played for hours, co-opting with Sal and Larry to fight bosses, help Larry with his trash character builds and unlock all the waypoints in his world.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You looked at the school’s name hanging above it’s entrance with annoying and a twinge of fear. You didn’t even realize how long you were there until a hand intertwined itself with your left one. You looked at Sal, a smile coming to your face and you walked inside. You waved to Maple and Chug, seeing them at Maple’s locker with a a notebook and a pencil. You didn’t bother to stop at your locker, deciding to carry your bag with you throughout the day.

“Hey Y/N!”

You looked to Ashley who was putting lipgloss on in her locker mirror. She turned to you and waved to you, walking up to you and Sal. You smiled at her and the three of you walked to your first classes.

When you sat down, you heard your teacher make a hum towards you. You looked up at him and he lifted his chin.

“I was wondering when you’d return, Y/N.�� He croaked, his neck turning to look at the door. “I figured you’d drop out.”

A few giggles came out from the corners of the class. You felt an arm on your side, telling you to let it go but you tilted your head with a shit-eating grin, “And I thought you’d be fired, yet we’re both here so..”

Your teacher narrowed his eyes at you, which only made your grin grow with satisfaction. He began teaching, mostly boring stuff about biology. The only problem was it was so boring you felt like sleeping, until a buzz on your waist kept you awake. You pulled up your phone and read a text from Larry, asking you to bring the ‘stuff’ from your locker. You replied with an ‘ok’ and continued to pretend to pay attention. Your imagination began to wander, thinking of how big Bowser must be. At least 9 feet, but that’d make Mario an Italian midget…. And peach would be like 5’7.

Lunch was okay, but you didn’t eat the school’s lunch, not after the bologna incident. You watched as Sal came up to you from his geometry class and sat beside you. Larry and Ashley joined you. Larry gave you a look and you pulled up a grocery bag to the table. Larry smiled wide and untied it, pulling out a container of Chinese food. Ashley gasped and asked how he got it.

“Don’t worry I got us all food.” He reassured and pulled out a box of tacos for Ashley and a container of sushi for Sal.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were going to school today.” Larry said.

“You’re good. I’ll steal you guys’ food.” You giggled and immediately snatched a taco from Ash. She made a face and it made you snort. You immediately covered your mouth of embarrassment, your friends laughing at the noise.

“It’s ok, it’s cute Y/N. I promise.” Sal looked at you with warm eyes and you nodded shyly, biting into your stolen taco. Larry handed you a piece of drenched chicken bite and you took it, biting into it.

“Yknow, we should actually go out for lunch. It’d be more fun.” Ashley beamed.

“Yeah but I don’t wanna hear a teachers mouth about us leaving….” You rolled your eyes at the thought.

“What’re they gonna do? Tell us we can’t eat?” Larry laughed at his words and Sal shrugged.

“This isn’t too bad of an idea… putting stuff in one of your lockers.” He said and you nodded, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him to whisper in his ear.

“On your birthday, I’ll leave some applesauce and pizza for you in my locker. Your favorite brand and shop, ok?”

Sal nodded eagerly, his pigtail bouncing with happiness. The four of you looked around to see some kids leaving for next class and you decided to do the same.

“Hey, shithead!”

Sal sighed at the aggressive voice and turned to see Travis, an aggravated scowl on his face. You rolled your eyes at the dumb bully and started to pull Sal to your next class.

“What the hell do you want Travis?” He said, rather annoyed at these interactions with the boy.

“You think because your bitch is here you can act all hard in front of her?!” He shouted, which made you a little pissed. “Yeah, I’m talking to you, what?”

“Travis, you aren’t even worth my time.” You declared and turned away from him. A set of heavy footsteps came rushing towards you and Sal, a hand shoving you to the ground and a few thuds landed in your eardrums. You saw yourself on the tiles, and Sal on his knees holding his mask. You stood up and stomped toward Travis. He had a nonchalant look on his face, asking you what you were gonna do, that you wouldn’t dare hurt him. You whipped your hand across his cheek, pushing him back into the lockers. You stared daggers at him as you helped Sal stand and walked him to another hall. As Travis tried to get to Sal once more, you stepped toward him and pushed him back again, a look of rage on your face was enough to tell him to stop.

You looked at Sal once you were around the corner, trying to see if he was ok, but he hid his face. His mask was clutched to his chest and his fingers did their best to cover his scarred skin. You peeled them off, telling him to let you look and he closed his eyes in fear that you’d be disgusted. You rubbed his jaw, blood forming on his bottom lip and a gross slit on it. You wiped it gently, fear of opening the gash or hurting your precious Sal. You eyed the bruised lip, decided to lean forward and give the blue haired boy a soft kiss. He looked at you with wide eyes as you smiled sweetly at him.

You put his mask back on mad began to go to your next class but he stopped you.

“Why’d you…. Why’d you do that?”

You patted his head. “That’s what couples do. We’re no different, Sal. C’mon.”

He nodded and the two of you quickly rushed to class.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You heard the door of your room open and turned to see Sal and Larry walk in. You nodded to them and they waved to you.

“Did you bring my food?” You asked and Larry put a bag of sweets on your dresser. You thanked him and Sal sat beside you as you clicked away at your mouse and keyboard. He watched as you looked at the cameras, flipped your bear mask on and winded up the music box.

“Hey… heyyyy, get back.” You ordered as you flashed the red fox. Then your fingers fumbled to pull the mask over your head and a broken down animatronic appeared in your office. You gasped held your breath, throwing the protective mask on, but to no avail. You died.

You groaned in frustration and reached for the box of sweetness, grabbing a soft cookie and biting into it.

“Why do you okay that game? It’s so scary..”

Larry mumbled. You smiled at his comment, saying the game wasn’t scary and that Larry was just a baby. He tried to defend himself, saying that the game was scary but when you started up the game and he saw the shiny new chicken move to another room, he shrieked.

You laughed as he proved your point and kept playing your game, trying to beat the night and advance. You listened to Sal and Larry go on about their school day and you laughed as you kept your focus on your game.

“Did Travis do anything today?” You asked and Sal shook his head. Larry gave you a look as you reached for another cookie, asking if something happened when you went to school. You shook your head and explained what happened with you and Sal.

“That little…..!” Larry fumbled his words from anger and you waved it off, telling him to calm down and to drop it.

“That blond turd won’t do anything. And if he does, I’ll kick his ass.” You declared. Sal smiled at your words, thanking you for your help earlier. You turned and smiled at him, “I’m your partner in crime. It’s part of my job description.” You turned back but saw a bright blue bunny with rosy cheeks jump for you, killing you. You groaned in frustration, hearing one of Larry’s screams of terror. Sal chuckled and apologized for distracting you.

“Alright you dumb animals…. Let’s see what you got.”

#sally face #sally face x y/n #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x y/n #larry johnson #ashley campbell #bologna

132 notes · View notes