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callmelittlesunshinefics · 8 months ago

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Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.

“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.

“Back where, Rem?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date??

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?”

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #xmen #x men the animated series #x men 97 #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit xmen #light angst #in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots #but we love them anyway #tw drinking

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crusherthedoctor · 6 months ago

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What's your WIP?

Prepare for cringe, and make 'em twinge.

What if: Paper Mario... but with Eggman. :D :D :D

youtube

I promise it's not as dumb as it sounds... okay maybe it is. But hear me out, I didn't bash non-matching LEGO bricks together mindlessly, there's some comprehensive logic behind it. :<

A while back, during the weekly groaning about Eggman being undermined and treated like shit, I pointed out that when you think about it, he would actually be a very serious problem if he were inserted into other works unrelated to Sonic. I said this mostly out of humor, but it's a what-if that I've thought about more seriously from time to time, including very recently, where I wondered out loud if Eggman would be more respected in-media and out if he were from literally any other franchise. Because as much as I hate to say it, it does feel that way sometimes...

Meanwhile, as you've no doubt gained from my recent posting, I've been more Paper Mario-pilled than ever before, due to how much the TTYD remake gives me passion during a time where I've been sorely needing it, as well as just remembering how much I love TTYD and the original N64 game in general. This happiness inspires me to do something with it out of celebration, so I think to myself "Hey, all my works so far have been strictly Sonic, but I'm currently having a down period with the series due to my ferocious apathy towards most of the current stuff, so how about I expand my horizon and experiment with something that doesn't have that confounded hedgehog in it for the time being? Maybe having something else would also keep me rejuvenated with Stellar, since I could bounce between different projects! But what can I come up with for Paper Chris Pratt?"

Then I think back to the first point, and… yeah. Does what it says on the tin, doesn't it. In an effort to make it sound less Now That's What I Call Mid-00's Fanfiction.Net Vol. 1, think of it like the anti-Storybook: instead of Sonic being catapulted into an unfamiliar world, and having to help out with what's going on… Eggman gets catapulted into an unfamiliar world, takes advantage of the fact that Sonic isn't there to stop him like the opportunistic bastard he is, and the (Paper) Mario universe is forced to deal with a threat that they have no context for.

Yes, I know it's very fanfic-y, but at this point, between this and Sonudis, I think my entire selling point(?) might be taking the most fanfic ideas you can think of (short of killing off canon characters or dumping them in a high school AU, because not even I would do that), and playing them as authentically and respectfully to the source material and official characterizations as possible. What kind of trouble would Eggman be able to cause in a world with no Sonic or Chaos Emeralds around? What scheme would he come up with? What would this very different cast of characters make of him, and vice versa? Is this just an excuse to write for Vivian to cope with the fact that she'll probably once again not appear in later games? (The answer is yes.)

If I decide to actually create this Frankenstein abomination of an idea, it probably won't be uploaded on this site since I'm not sure how many Mario fans I have in the audience so to speak. Then again... @beevean seems to have carved a place for herself in the Castlevania fic community on here, so maybe I should?

(Also, this would NOT lead into a full-on Mario and Sonic crossover, or some convoluted cinematic universe nonsense. It would just be a unique character study, nothing more. Plus, just the idea of a traditional Paper Mario adventure where the villain is inexplicably Eggman is my kind of shitpost energy.)

#Crusher's Asks #Dr. Eggman #Mario #Paper Mario

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new-royston-cursebreakers · 5 months ago

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Askbox Suggestion Tag

I was tagged by the amazing @pluttskutt! Check out their post here.

Rules: send me a prompt for any characters featured on this blog, and I’ll write a short snippet for you

I've been writing TSatC a lot, so I'm in the mood to write some other characters, namely from my (as of yet unposted) time traveler WIP:

Neor, a courageous student of magic that's chosen to follow Sacha, but gets caught up in a time travel spell, bouncing between her world and a distant time where the world has been destroyed. Sacha the Archmage, widely considered to be the greatest mage in the world, but rather unconventional and antisocial despite her dedication to helping others. Vultarne, an evil overlord from a distant time with severed hands and a rivalry with the Fair Folk, ruthless and callous and unfortunately stuck with Neor.

or from The Curse of New Royston, all of which have character intros on my pinned post:

Gio, the angry heir to the most prominent family in a cursed town who wants nothing more than a new perspective. Cricket, a naive but intelligent teen left behind by his parents who wants nothing but the best for his friends. Fletcher, Gio's best friend, who just wants everything to go back to normal again. Eneas, an older teen who just wants to keep his friends safe and maybe get revenge on the side. Caelan, a younger teen who absolutely loves his position in life, despite the fact that the one he loves would never be accepted. Auster, an employee at his family's apothecary trying to support his older sister and younger siblings. Cameron, a mysterious pariah who just kinda showed up one day, but may or may not hold some very valuable information.

I'll be tagging @gummybugg, @revenantlore, @oddcryptidwrites, @bluenwritten,

@wintherlywords, @doriians, and @bardicbeetle! I found half of you through those 'interact with this post if you want to be tagged' posts lol

#tag games #askbox suggestions tag

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businesscasualart · 7 months ago

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i luv ur work, can I see a smal snippet of any fanfic ur working on👉👈 here’s a treat as payment🧁

AWWWW THANK YOU SM! I've posted so little work, I didn't expect anyone would care too much for my work, art or fanfic, as opposed to just like, my affinity for providing content for obscure characters and ships. <3 You are SO sweet, I'm crying TvT I'd love to share, it'd be an honor, treat or no treat as payment! Thank you for the treat tho XD

Okay, so, context: I've been in fandomless hell for a few months now. I can rely on the fact that I'll be bouncing back to and around the DC fandom every few months, but I'm absolutely directionless rn. The last thing I got working on is yet another Young Justice, Psimon/Devastation fic as always. I DO intend to write something else eventually, but I love Devapsimon <3

A friend requested this one RIGHT before I fell out of the YJ fandom into this period of nothingness. Now...you see...they don't watch YJ, they dislike superhero cartoons. They do know I love YJ tho.

I...don't...like...Omegaverse...BUT YOU SEE, MY FRIEND uh...got pretty big into it...in the Normalest way they could...If you don't know what it is, don't Google it.

My good, dear friend...requested of me...that the third fic I ever write...be a lil Psimon/Devastation Omegaverse fic for them and they PROMISE they'll pay me...somehow...presumably with a fic they'll write bc I KNOW they don't have money. SO FOR LIKE, three months, between fandomless hell, writing what I don't know, and KEEPING THIS THING PG-14...I've been writing that!

Maybe I'll convert it into a sickfic before posting it to Ao3! Bc I am so unsure about writing omegaverse and my abilities doing so. AND IT IS PRETTY MUCH A SICKFIC, I'm taking a very mild-hurt/comfort, mostly nesting, sickfic approach with it! I hope it's still enjoyable despite my long breaks writing it. I have to do some serious editing but rn I'm just trying to get it done! Wish me luck!

So uh

WIP Devapsimon Fic Snippet!

CW: uh, nothing really! There's not even much Omegaverse mention in this part...um...I don't know how to format a fic on Tumblr...there's an abundance of description of RV bunk beds...I can't find a good place to cut off the snippet...THIS IS ALSO VERY LONG FOR A SNIPPET, but this is my longest fic yet.... so uh...long preview! As a treat!

“D…Devastation?” He whispered hesitantly, torn between announcing his presence and not disturbing her rest.

Upon getting no response tried to gently, quietly push past the curtains but the metal curtain rings slowly drug against the metal bar making a screech that resounded in his ears and made him wince.

He peered into the bunk section. It was darker than the rest of the RV, it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

It was honestly shocking how everyone could fit in here, it was a cramped ‘room’. If Baran or Tommy were to walk down the room, both of their shoulders would rub against the bunks lining either wall. Thankfully, the bunks themselves were of a decent size.

They were built into the wall, like a shelf or cubby. They could hold a thin twin XL size ‘mattress’...well…really more so a foam pad than a mattress. However, the bottom bunk cubbies were decently tall, the larger Onslaught members still can’t really fit lying on their backs or sitting up, but they could fit just fine lying on their sides.

There were exactly six bunks, two on each side of the three-walled room. Additionally, hanging in the middle of the walkway between the two top bunks on the left and the right of the room, was a hammock. Cameron generously set it up when they got the Terror Twins on the team and claimed it for himself. He claims it was to win Tuppence’s favor but Psimon is almost certain it was just regular generosity and self-sacrifice.

Each bunk had different privacy curtains shielding the inside of the bunks; some decorative, some blackout, some sheer; but a few were left open.

One such bunk had its curtains open. Thankfully, it was the one with the only small window in the room, on the wall inside the top bunk across from the entrance. It didn’t provide much light, especially since the dusty blinds as well as small curtains on it were drawn.

There were also string lights lining the room, courtesy of Selinda, to provide a gentle light but they were left off during the day.

It was relatively clear whose bed was whose. Everyone had a relatively distinct sense of style, or lack thereof.

Selinda’s was a simple bed with everything in some shade of black and purple. Tuppences lined her walls and ceiling with decor like photos, stickers, and posters. The other mens’ bunks generally looked like the beds had been abandoned for eight years, but Tommy decorated his similarly to Tuppence’s, only simpler; Mammoth’s bed had a king-sized comforter shoved in there and the walls were scratched up; and Cameron’s...well, he had a hammock.

Psimon’s bunk was by far the most organized one but it doesn’t stand out. All neutral colors, made up neatly. He had two pillows, but only really used one. He, like a few others, had small organizers hanging on the walls. He never had many personal, sentimental items to bring on these missions, so he mostly kept business related papers, pens, a tablet for work, and the like up there.

Each set of twins shared the bunks on two walls and Cameron...had a hammock…so Devastation slept in the bunk under Psimon’s.

Her bed was also simple and mostly neutral tones, but messier…usually. She had two or three more blankets and pillows than usual, all strewn about, along with a couple clothing items. It was notably more crowded.

Psimon had no idea how Devastation would be comfortable in that mess, and perhaps she wasn’t, because she wasn’t even in her bed.

She sat on the filthy, old carpeted floor next to her bed, leaning halfway into the bunk, her face buried in her arms.

“Devastation!” Psimon gasped, dropping to his knees next to her, nearly dropping the bowl in the process. He set it on the floor next to him, placing a hand on her back and the other on an arm.

Her hair was taken down but not brushed, left messy and tangled. She had also changed into her nightwear, striped shorts and a sleeveless top. They seemed to have been a lavender-type color, but they’ve lightened and grayed out over time, as well as developed a couple of small holes in seams here and there.

“Oh, Devastation…” Psimon, voice quiet and full of concern, never finished his sentence.

He struggled to pull Devastation upright by her shoulders, pulling her to rest against him so he could see her face. Once he managed it, her weight nearly knocked him back onto the floor but she seemed to regain enough awareness to somewhat support her own weight and not throw it all on him at once.

Her eyes were glazed and distant when they fluttered open. She furrowed her brow and her eyes slowly moved to look at Psimon, in an attempt to figure out what was happening but before she could, he laid his hand over her face.

He kept moving his hand around her face, to both of her cheeks and to her forehead as if they’d yield different results, but the results were clear. Devastation’s skin was impossibly hot, hotter than before, even in the short time that had passed. It was wet with sweat and flushed all over from her own body temperature.

Her glassy eyes finally found Psimon’s face, despite his hand’s frantic search for a more reassuring result. Her mouth hung open slightly, as if to speak, but she only took in short, ragged breaths.

“Oh…Oh Devastation…”

#I really hope this is any good. Im so flattered but I got so little faith in my writing rn TvT #psimon #YJ! devastation #YJ! psimon #Simon jones #YJ! Simon jones #devapsimon #devastation/psimon #devasimon #fanfic #yj fanfic #fanfic preview #wip #WIP fic #businesscasual writing #lorelei's yelling into the void again #cw: omegaverse #sickfic #oh man ig that's all I got to tag

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itiaskia · 3 months ago

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how do you write fanfiction? what is your process? do you have tips for new writers?

My process differs slightly between oneshots and multi-chapter projects. For oneshots, usually I write them when I have a vague concept with some sort of punchline to them, and multichapter fics are when I want to explore something that will take longer than just a couple thousand words and maybe need some scene breaks over a longer period of time. Usually for oneshots I write them in one sitting, I'll just open the document and take a crack at it. I bounce around the document writing whichever scenes appeal to me first, and then I go back in later and fill in the gaps. This does sometimes mean I leave ideas and even sentences incomplete if I suddenly get the urge to work somewhere else on the document, so usually when I pass it to my friend to beta read I have him check that I've completed every sentence. For my oneshots I usually try to keep the plot simple so it's easy to tell what the "point" of the story is. I like writing in a closed third person style where the narration is described as the character would see it. I don't know if it's super obvious with my writing or not, as I've mostly just written from shu-nazuna-mika perspectives... but maybe it is lol.

For multichapter fics I usually try to have little arcs within the fic, something that gets resolved but something else that crops up new, so that it's not just one big buildup but a bunch of steady little buildups along the way. These fics are a lot harder for me to write tbh because it's hard for me to keep an update schedule unless I pre-write the entire fic. I actually have a whole bunch of multichapter WIPs I've been poking at for the past year that I've been hoarding until they're complete so I can do weekly/biweekly updates so people don't have to wait lol. I guess multichapter are also hard because if I don't pre-write them, sometimes it's hard to find motivation to finish it if no one really cares abt it, so I want to make sure my opinion on the fic is not clouded by anyone else's judgement (or lack thereof) so I can enjoy it myself to the fullest.

Tips for new writers... Honestly, besides the whole "write often" + "write what you're passionate about", the biggest piece of advice that helped me was fundamentally understanding the "purpose" of the story you want to tell and how to use that to your advantage. It's something that can lace the entire story and really help create some conflict / interesting angles. The way my beta likes to describe it is "it's what the story is really about". I'll just use an example, my shmk fic "the walk home" is a simple concept of shu and mika walking home in the cold/snow, shu slips and ends up holding mika's hand. That's the set up for it, and initial idea. But the "purpose" of the fic is less about that, and more about the fact that neither of them can be open about their feelings for each other, and make excuses for being affectionate. Shu slipping and grabbing onto Mika's hand? Cute. But the implication that he might have done it on purpose to grab Mika's hand, and then continuing to hold it later and never verbally acknowledging it play into the purpose of the fic. The fic is told strictly from Mika's pov, so we see his internal reactions to it, but never Shu's. Mika, like the reader, doesn't know what's going on in Shu's head, so it's all up to interpretation what he's thinking. Did he do it on purpose? Up to you. It adds another layer to it, instead of just telling you "these are events that happened", it invites the reader to think just a little bit more.

#wil’s grimoire #Original Post 28APR24

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laguna-lesbian · 8 months ago

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DUDE YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I WOULD LOVE TO UPDATE ONE OF MY OTHER WIPS BUT TMWYH HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD 😭😭😭

Between Catch Me, Run Don't Walk Away, Dirty Tissues, AND Chains and Whips I have soooo many fics and storylines going on in my head, but I can't write any of them because TWMYH is always there, bullying me into updating that first 😭😭 no but I'm not complaining because being able to hyperfixate on a fic is nice for a change rather than my usual bouncing from fic to fic, but I SWEAR I intend to update everything at some point, maybe the med au will release me soon...

(also I'm laughing at you discovering I wrote Who Needs Forever Anyway because that fic broke me and everyone else kldfgjkfldg oops)

AJSHD BELIEVE ME I GET IT - THE HYPERFIXATION BRAINROT IS REALLL </3

one thing about me though, ill NEVER complain about the 10k tmwyh updates, theyve literally become the highlight of my week!!! believe me, if i wasnt studying for exams SO MUCH fanart would be getting made </3

i keep meaning to comment on the last chapter but i havent had time yet :( will say though, i started CACKLING LIKE A WITCH when i saw the One Bed Trope, im a simple guy, what can i say... also becas "im NOT grumpy >:( im pragmatic" STAWPPP SHES SO CUTE AND 🤏🤏🤏

it makes me so happy that others are still as invested in this fandom as i am considering the fact that the last movie came out what, 6? 7? years ago!!!

(i mean this in the very best way possible, fUCK YOU for Who Needs Forever Anyway, that bitch had me ugly sobbing for straight HOURS... well gay hours but...)

#every time i get an ask i start giggling and kicking my feet #this NEVER happens #“well yeah because you never post anything meaningful to comment on” STFU #asks #ridiculously-over-obsessed

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pappydaddy · 2 years ago

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style (j.m.)

a/n: so, i had this idea when i was wandering around my room in my new cute bra that i am in love with this morning and i wrote this in like two hours... i was thinking about it all day so i had to write it in my big-ass gap between classes (school work who? we don't know her, only fics).

anywho, this will be part of the 1989 collection whenever blonde releases the re-record (that's when i will publish the masterlist to the collection), but i couldn't not do this to this song - it would have been illegal and i am a criminology major after all...

i hope you like this one lovelies and for the people waiting on requests, i am working on them! trust me, they should be coming out shortly lovelies💛!

tv show/movie: outer banks

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

not requested

synopsis: good-girl kook y/n and bad boy pogue jj, something that y/n doesn't want to go out of style. no matter what brought them together.

warnings: fwb kinda gig, secret relationship (a little), infidelity (kinda), steamy make-out, mention of being half naked

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Perhaps what they say is true, the good girls always go for bad boys. Or, perhaps the thrill of a secret romance with the boy who seems to bring trouble everywhere he goes is far too strong for anybody to resist. Whatever it is, Y/N loved it. She loved the thrill, the high, the rush she gets. Maybe that’s why she and JJ work so well together. The classic dynamic - the constantly in style romance.

Y/N questioned this all, just like normal, as she paced around her room after a long day. After getting up at five in the morning and doing nothing but tending to her studies, she was finally winding down for the night. Clad in her floral embroidered soft cupped (sheer) bra, her phone still in hand, her mind was ablaze. She knew they didn’t arrange to meet up tonight, but she kind of wished JJ would pull up in John B’s van with the headlights off to sneak her out of her parents' fortress of money and greed.

Alas, here she stood, half-dressed in her favourite (and JJ’s favourite) short a-line skirt and low-cut top combination, her lips painted her classic red (a sight she loves to see smeared on JJ’s lips). She had dropped countless hints to him that her parent’s business trip had been extended for another week, but yet, he’s out with Sandra Hanson - the bitch from Gym class. “Tomorrow she is so getting a soccer ball to her new nose.” She grumbled.

It had taken a lot of persuading and Y/N intercepting her papers from getting to Kook Academy to convince her parents to keep her in public school. The argument being that she could use the fact she chose to continue with public education as an entrance essay topic and the fact she is taking all AP courses (except gym) as a leg up. Ironically enough, the only other Kook at public school was Sandra who had gotten kicked out of the academy for disorderly conduct.

Groaning, she flopped down onto her bed, phone tumbling out of her hands from where the picture message Kie had sent her of Sandra and JJ looking close still sat on her screen. A ping made her look at it again, this time Sarah in their group chat, the same one Kie sent the picture in. ‘that bitch’ Sarah had typed.

‘I know but they seem to be doing some sort of school work’ Kie typed back instantly. She had been picking the keys for the car up from her mother at the Wreck and spotted the two. JJ’s back was to her, failing to realise one of his friends and Y/N’s best friend was there.

‘jj? doing school work? unlikely’ Sarah replied, the pings dinging in Y/N’s ears as she laid there. Groaning, she covered her face with a pillow, the bed bouncing from the movement. ‘idk tho why would jj suddenly take interest in Sandra when hes obvo obsessed with y/n something’s up’ Sarah double texted.

‘they are leaving. in separate cars’ Kie updated. As much fun and no matter how much Y/N finds her head spinning in delight whenever JJ is involved, she couldn’t help but remember times like this. When she can’t get a read on him. It has been weeks since they officially talked or hung out. It had been sneaky note slipping when eating lunch with the group, partnering up in gym, and late-night texts sent hours apart. Nobody knew about them. They knew they were smitten with each other and liked each other, but nobody knew about them and it was driving Y/N crazy.

They went in these circles all the time. Hot, heavy, and constant for a month then barely anything for weeks until JJ comes to her, telling her that her little outfits at school were driving him crazy or telling her he missed her. She hated this part of it. It was enough for a little voice in her head to tell her to not let him into the house next time, but she always did anyway.

Huffing, she stood up from her bed. There was no point in staying up later than it already is just to wait around in an empty house for a boy who wasn’t gonna show up. Plugging her phone in, she shuffled around the room, deciding a nice unplugged bath was needed. “Whew, didn’t know I would be greeted like this.” JJ’s muffled voice startled her. Looking to her partially open window, she saw him crouched on her roof, a boyish smile on his lips. That same boyish smile that got her to do anything he wanted.

His eyes landed on her bra-clad breasts and stayed there while she walked over, unlocking and opening the window the rest of the way. Without hesitating, JJ crawled in, making her step back. And then, it was just like he was home and Y/N had that voice in her head again. Sighing out in comfort and relaxation, JJ shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossing it to her desk chair without taking his eyes off her. “I hardly think it’s fair that you’re standing here half naked and I’m fully clothed.” He mentioned, hands gripping the bottom of his white t-shirt.

“I hardly think it’s fair that I was here thinking you would be coming to see me when you were tramping around town with Sandra Hanson tonight and Audrey Glassman last night.” She remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. Covering her sheer bra, but consequently pushing her boobs together.

JJ deflated, hands leaving his shirt before coming up to run through his hair that was actually slicked back like it usually is when he plans to see someone. There was a pang in her heart when she realised that it was meant for Sandra tonight. “Look, yes, I hung out with them, but Y/N, I couldn’t get you off my mind for the past few weeks. It’s been driving me mad. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was with them.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She knew she should tell him to leave. She knew she should, but she didn’t. With a sigh, she let her hands swing to her side, eyes flicking up to meet his. She swore that for a second, she was feeling what her grandmother felt whenever she gushed about the time she met James Dean. The same handsome sparkle she sees in the old picture of the two (she was pretty sure they dated but, her grandmother won’t confess). “Yeah, I’ve been there too a few times.” She admitted.

It was true. JJ always seemed to occupy her mind. Even when she was with other guys. The way he cannot seem to keep his wild eyes on the road when they’re driving somewhere. The way he fits right into her house as if he lives there too. The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. It was never sexual (well, rarely) whenever she thought of him. Sure, she thought of his touch, but it was the comforting feel of his hand on her lower back as he’s guiding her to their private date spot in the dark or the light feeling of his fingertips pressing into her upper back whenever he feels protective over her (usually whenever Rafe is nearby).

“What do you say, Baby,” JJ asked, walking towards her. “You forgive me? Nothing happened with either of them, you have my word and I might not have much, but I do have that.” He told her, grabbing her hands, holding them up as he came chest to chest with her. His forehead leaned down, resting against hers as their noses brushed.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she relished in the feeling. His breath fanned over her lips as he watched her intently, not doing anything until he knew for sure she was okay. Slowly, almost non-existent, there was a nod. “Yeah.” She breathed out.

“Good,” He breathed out in the same way. “Now, let me show you exactly why you were on my mind when I was with them.” He whispered seconds before their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss. It was messy, hands roaming everywhere, lips mushed together so hard it almost hurt. Tongues and a little bit of spit moving from mouth to mouth, but they didn’t care if drool was rolling down either of their faces.

Chests rose and fell rapidly and it was only a few seconds in, but that’s how passionate they are. Hands gripping the bottom of JJ’s t-shirt, Y/N pulled it up, her knuckles dragging along his abs (both for her pleasure and his) making his muscles ripple and his back hunch slightly. Humming into the kiss at the feeling, Y/N nearly ripped the shirt off him, JJ pulling away to get rid of the barrier before resuming the kiss with more vigour, forcefully lifting her up into the air, her legs wrapping around his waist as some sort of automatic response.

The air in the room was already thick with the smell of arousal and sex. Their skin became sticky as they worked each other up. It was as if they were a force when together, possessing the power to make any room seem like a sex room specifically used for sex twenty-four seven in under ten seconds.

With her back pressed into the wall suddenly, JJ's weight pressing her flush against it, he rolled his pelvis into hers making her tear her lips away from him, the feeling of his clothed, jean-clad pelvis rolling against hers that was basically only covered by her panties due to her skirt riding up send shock waves through her body. His lips latched onto her throat without a second thought, inciting another gasp from her - a sound that drove him mad.

Sure, she should have told him to leave, but that wouldn’t have fixed anything. There is no way to pull them apart. No matter how many times she tells him to leave, they just keep coming back because they will never go out of style. Never. Now, be that the sheer magnitude of their passion and feelings or the pull of the stereotype they so perfectly fit, Y/N had no idea, but she never wanted it to stop.

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bratkook · 4 years ago

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girls in bikinis. (m) kth.

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 5.3k warnings: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, partially clothed sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, creampie, he fucks her in roller skates okay and its light and playful author’s note: this came to me as i washed my dishes and listened to this song by poppy and idk what possessed me to write this when i have 2471819 other wips i should be focusing on but i hope u enjoy it lmaooo

As the sun beats down on Taehyung, beads of sweat trickling down his neck while he cruises on his long board along the concrete path right on the beach, he doesn’t think he regrets encouraging your new hobby more than he does right now

You see when you first voiced your desire to learn to roller skate Taehyung had found it endearing, even going as far as purchasing the skates for you as a surprise because you had been so excited watching videos online of other girls gliding around.

When you finally got them and slipped them on, stumbling around like a baby deer discovering they had legs, he thought it would be an adorable hobby. Seeing you bundled up with your knee pads, matching elbow pads ready to catch your fall and a helmet strapped tightly under your chin.

It all screamed cute.

But your determination had set it, constantly practicing out on the sidewalk or in the shoddy parking lot of your apartment complex, not caring how many times you bruised your tailbone with your nasty falls until they slowly minimized.

Soon enough Taehyung had stopped providing you ice packs and comforting words when you took a tumble and instead he had begun to watch in awe as your strides got more confident, no longer afraid to apply pressure onto your toe stops when you caught some speed, mixing in some cool spins as you skated around him in circles.

With that added confidence came the fact that you no longer needed to be wrapped up in safety gear as extensively as you used to be which is what landed him in this situation, watching you glide along beside him with the skimpiest outfit on.

This no longer screamed cute, no this entire thing was currently shouting sexy in his head so loud it was a surprise no one around him could hear it.

Taehyung swallows down a groan when you push out so you’re ahead of him now, the scrape of your wheels mixing in with his own. His eyes trail up your body, seeing how your legs glimmer in the sun thanks to the body oil you had lathered on before you, making your entire body look like its glowing.

The expanse of your legs are out for the world to see and he’s almost positive if you bent over just slightly he’d catch a peak of the underwear you currently had on because these black cut off shorts were purely for aesthetic purposes.

Its not until you whirl around on your skates, gliding backwards with your arms and head bobbing along to the music you had blasting from your phone in your back pocket, that his eyes zero in on your tits. Taehyung can’t hold the groan back this time, not with the way he sees them bounce and jiggle with each stride of your legs, only being caged in by the tiniest triangle bikini top you had so graciously slipped on.

He knew you did this on purpose, did this just for him, color coordinating your orange top to match the suede of your skates and passing it off as a cute notion. Taehyung had gotten drunk a few nights ago, and with the added alcohol came the slip of his tongue, confessing how hot he thought you looked as you rolled around and how much hotter you’d look if you did it in just your underwear.

You, being ever the people pleaser, weren’t going to let him down. Of course you weren’t clad in your bra and panties but this was definitely second best and when you catch his dazed out expression it proves you right.

His foot mindlessly keeps pushing himself forward, coming back onto his board robotically to continue the glide while you shimmy your chest at him tauntingly.

“My eyes are up here.” You quip teasingly, your hand coming up to rake through your hair as you shoot him a dazzling smile. Thats when he finally blinks out of his daze, meeting your eyes with a cheeky smile on his own face.

“Oh I know,” he shrugs, rocking on his board as he glides side to side, his wheels kissing the edge of the path each way as he does so, “prefer staring at your tits though.”

A snort leaves you at his comment, swirling back around to face forward, slowing your pace down until you’re once again right beside him. You turn your head to look at him, smirking when you see him staring at you already, “Figured, that’s kind of why I wore this.”

“Ah,” he sighs out, his hand reaching forward to grab your own in a sweet notion as he matches your speed, “so I fell into your trap?”

The soft laugh you let out makes the horniness that's clouding his brain clear up, paired with the fact that he can no longer see the way your boobs bounce with every crack on the floor, he has a moment to cleanse his impure thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s all going according to plan.”

Taehyung laughs fully at that now, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles, his ash blonde hair being fluffed up from the wind and the speed at which he pushes off the floor, “Oh yeah?”

A small hum is your only response, mimicking his movements and pushing forward once more to make room for bikers approaching you, once again giving him the glorious view of your ass and legs.

“And how does this plan of yours end exactly?”

You spin around once more, the action smooth and nothing at all compared to the way you struggled months ago, your hand still grasping his own as he helps guide you from any oncoming people. There's a glint in your eye that he can’t pinpoint but he knows its trouble, it usually always is with you.

“With you fucking me.”

His brows arch up at your lewd comment, how you said it so nonchalantly, almost as if you were discussing a grocery list. His balance falters slightly as he wobbles on his feet, your hand being the saving grace that stops him from face planting onto the hot cement. That would definitely sober his filthy thoughts up just as quickly as they came, nothing like good road burn to help him stop sinning.

“Well let's go then.” He chokes out, ready to drag you to his awaiting car, maybe you’d let him defile you in his backseat if you were this horny but you shock him once more when your shoulders shrug. A playful frown on your face as you look behind you, your eyes focusing on the surrounding buildings, “Why?”

“What do you mean why, you said you want me to fuck you or am I reading this all wrong?”

Another laugh bubbles out of you, the sound sweet and angelic as if you aren’t currently thinking of him rearranging your guts in the unholiest of places

“Oh no, I definitely want you to fuck me but why leave?”

That’s when the realization hits him, his eyes widening up as his mouth drops open when he understands just what you’re suggesting, “Here?”

A simple nod is sent his way, your smile widening when he looks around in exasperation, almost as if he can’t fathom that you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you in any location. “But we’re in public!” He hisses out, his cheeks warming up to a blush and its adorable.

“So, I’m horny and I want you to fuck me. Are you game?”

As adventurous as Taehyung was, he'd never, ever, fooled around in public and as much as he wanted to, the fear of getting caught and possibly being thrown into jail always stopped him. But the way you look right now is making all of his logical thinking go straight into the gutter and he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he can see this whole thing play out in his mind.

With every blink of his eyes he sees flashes of you, pressed against the side of a building as you moan out his name, the feel of your oiled up skin against his fingertips as he grips into your hips and fucks you from behind, the thrill of having to keep quiet.

He feels his cock spur to life in his shorts and that is absolutely the only convincing he needs to make his feet come down with a thump, haphazardly hopping off of his board and yanking you to an abrupt stop, his hands having to catch you before you topple over from the force of it all.

“Hell yeah I’m game, but if we get caught it’s all your fault.”

He wastes no time scooping his board up and tucking it underneath his arm as he takes off, dragging you behind him while he hauls you off the bike path and onto the crowded boardwalk. His grip on you is secure as your wheels wobble on the uneven path, his pace speeding up when your laughter reaches his ear.

A smirk spreads onto his face as his eyes bounce along each building, determined to find a location good enough for your rendezvous. The small whispers you send him make him feel like you’re a little devil perched onto his shoulder, luring him into making the worst decisions with the best outcomes.

“You gotta be quiet Y/N.” Taehyung whispers with a laugh, his hands placed on your ass, pushing you into the small alleyway between two buildings you had both deemed good enough for the scandalous act you were about to perform.

You have to bite your lip to prevent teasing words from slipping through, your heart was currently pounding in your chest as reality hits you, not believing just how easy it was to convince Taehyung do to anything involving sex.

It’s almost comical how he rolls you deeper into the small hiding spot, his board slipping from its spot under his arm and landing on the floor in a loud thunk. The sound echoes all around you but he can’t focus on that right now, completely ignoring the scowl you send his way after he had just shushed you into silence.

“You gotta be quiet–” You mock him, the end of your words being muffled out when he slaps his palm over your mouth, a taunting look on his face as he pushes you against the brick wall. The heels of your boots thud against the building as your back presses flush against it, the gritty texture of the wall digs into your back but any complaints you have get stuck in your throat when you see the look in his face, your breath huffing against his hand, the tiniest smile creeping onto your lips.

“Don’t worry about me baby,” he whispers out, his face inching closer to yours. His eyes sneak a side glance towards the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking past blissfully unaware that the two of you were tucked away in here, “unless you want people to see how desperate you are for my cock you need to keep that pretty mouth of yours closed okay?”

A stiff nod and a hum against his palm is all you give him, your eyes staring straight into his as he takes a moment to ogle you. His gaze trails down your neck, onto the swells of your chest covered in the tiny orange bikini, his head tilting slightly as he watches the rise and fall as you try to steady your breathing.

“Nervous?” Taehyung teases, choosing now to remove his palm from your mouth.

“No,” you breathe out a laugh, resting onto your left toe stop as you sag against the wall, “I’m excited.”

Of course you were, this had been your plan after all. Get Taehyung so hot and bothered he’d do anything you asked and he had fallen right into your grasp, not that he had any complaints.

“You fucking minx.” He jokes, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss, the smell of the sunscreen he had slathered his face in invades your senses, it reminds you of summer and you know after today it’ll also remind you of this moment.

Your lips drop open as he licks his way into your mouth, groaning when his tongue slithers against yours. Your arms hook around his neck, tugging him closer as he lightly licks the roof of your mouth before pulling back with a hum.

“Gotta be quick yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, letting his hands grip your sides, his thumb softly rubbing your waist on his way down to the button of your shorts, “hurry.”

The bouncing wheels of skateboarders whizzing by a few feet away has you gasping in excitement, Taehyung shooting you a wink when he catches the thrilling look on your face at the prospect of getting caught, “You got it.”

Taehyung pops the button of your shorts open, the sound reaching your ears, aiding in the small rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The metallic scrape of your zipper being yanked down joins the air, his long fingers dipping into the waist of them and tugging them down your legs until they catch around your knees from the way your thighs are spread out.

He eyes the tiny pastel orange panties you chose to wear, your entire outfit being carefully thought out for this exact moment and it makes him chuckle under his breath, he really had fallen right into your trap.

His fingers toy with your underwear, following the edge of it as it curves into your inner thighs, a shiver wracking through your body at the ticklish feeling, a slight detour being taken when his thumb presses into the damp patch decorating the front of it.

A wiggle of your eyebrows is sent his way when he eyes you teasingly, “Who would’ve thought you’d get this wet just thinking about me fucking you out in the open.”

“Please, I get soaked just thinking about you doing literally anything.”

He knew that much to be true, taking pride in being the main reason your panties were ruined.

Its not until the sound of people talking reaches his ears that he remembers he needs to hurry up, the idea of being caught was definitely hot but actually getting caught wasn’t so he once again grips your hips and turns you around.

Your heavy wheels clank against the ground at the change of position, your hands gripping the rough wall to keep you steady as he moves you, the rolling of your wheels only making him laugh.

“Uh, you’re gonna have to lean on your thingy to stop from rolling.”

“My toe stop?” You tease, putting pressure on your right foot to help stabilize you as he places a palm on your back, his fingers tracing the ties of your bikini top as he pushes you forward.

“Yes you smart ass.”

With you no longer rolling back onto him he deems himself ready to continue, his palms roaming over the smooth expanse of your exposed ass. You had clearly covered your entire body in that damn oil, not leaving a single area bare of the jasmine scented liquid which Taehyung had now decided was his new favorite thing.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You whine out, your hips jutting further back, not at all expecting the swift slap he lands on your left cheek. His large palm swats against your skin so hard it bounces off the walls, the gasp getting stuck in your throat when everything falls into silence once more, half expecting someone to peek their head in from how loud it had been but it luckily never comes. He soothes your warm skin with his palm, kneading your flesh gently as he bit his lip.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for me baby.” He scolds, his thumb hooking around your underwear and yanking it to the side, revealing your dripping slit to him. His other hand comes forward to let his fingers trail up your folds in a teasing motion, softly tracing up and around, not being able to resist teasing you further. When his index finger glides through your slick with ease his mouth drops open in awe, forever being prideful at the effect he has on you.

The small whine spills out of your lips when he slowly dips his finger in, enjoying the way your walls pulse around the tip of it before he pushes in to the hilt, starting a slow rhythm as he pulls out and thrusts back in, quickly adding a second finger and scissoring them inside of you to properly stretch you out for his cock.

“Mm Taehyung,” you sigh out, your head falling forward to rest against the cool wall as he continues to fuck you open. Each thrust of his long fingers has you keening, more of your arousal gushing out of you in excitement, becoming more and more desperate as he continues, “fuck I’m ready please.”

He playfully hums in thought from behind you, not entirely convinced two fingers would be enough for you to adjust to him. “I don’t think you are Y/N.”

The way your pussy clamps around his third finger when you feel the tip of a prod at your entrance proves his assumption correct, but he could take care of that. He knew you body well enough, having the motions down to a science. The way he curls his fingers, alternating between spreading them out and nudging against the sweet patch inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you’re fully relaxed in his hands, your hips rocking back into him at the feeling of being so full.

“There you go sweetheart,” he coos, his eyes slipping shut for a moment as he focuses on the wet thumping every time his palm hits your ass when he thrusts into you. The softest moans fill the otherwise silent alley, your fingers desperately clutching the wall, no doubt scraping your skin but that was a problem for later on, right now all you could think about was how amazing Taehyung’s fingers felt inside your cunt.

“Fuck, nngh please Tae.” You plead, twisting your body slightly to crane your head over your shoulder, hoping the clear desperation etched onto your features was enough to have him whip his cock out and fuck you like you wanted.

Your wide eyes glimmer with unshed tears from frustration and he takes pity on you, slipping his shiny fingers out of your pussy and popping them into his mouth like second nature. As if you needed him to do more to turn you on he has to go and lick your arousal off of his digits like it was his favorite candy.

“Okay,” he murmurs out, undoing his own shorts and yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free. The visual of it out in the open almost makes those tears pool over, his large hand wrapping around the girth of it as he lazily pumps his aching length inches away from you, “you ready?” He questions, bringing his palm to his mouth to noisily spit into it, using it to lube up his cock as he steps closer to you.

“Yes.” You breathe out, rolling your lips together as you face the wall again, your head hanging low as you wait, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

Taehyung steps in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread apart, yanking your underwear to the side to reveal your sodden folds to him once more. He licks his lips over as he guides the head of his cock towards your entrance, the slight pressure of it pressing against you has you sighing out, gritting your teeth together to keep from shouting at him to hurry up.

Finally, he eases his way inside, his bulbous head breaching your entrance, the stretch that accompanies it beating the feel of his three fingers from before. This was what you wanted, his thick cock stretching you apart and filling you up the way he knew best.

Taehyung holds in a groan when your walls tighten around him when he bottoms out, his hips fully flushed against yours, the two of you panting as he stills inside of you.

“You okay?” He whispers, his fingers moving to grip your hips once more to help ground himself as he waits for a response from you. The sound of more people approaching has your walls pulsing around him and he groans, “Fuck, of course you’re okay. You fucking love this huh?”

A small whimper of his name is all you let out, the idea of being caught in the act making the words stick to your throat, instead you push back onto him, urging him to move.

Taehyung takes the hint, a smile gracing his face as he slowly inches back, beginning to rock into you in a steady rhythm, his pace increasing every time you let a tiny moan slip out from between your grit teeth, a small reward for being vocal because he wants you to let anyone listening know it was him making you feel good.

“Answer me baby.”

The squelching sounds of his dick hammering into you fill the air, the lewd moans finally leaving you with no qualms about who could possibly hear, “Fuck, yes I love it.”

He hums in appreciation, his hips fucking into you with more force at your admission, new determination settling inside of him to get you to fall apart, not an ounce of shame remains at getting caught.

Taehyunt can’t lie, he knows he loves it too, loves the way you’re letting him claim you in public, the way your moans echo in the space you’re in, your hand gripping the wall. A squeal leaves your lips, mixed in with a breathless laugh, when he angles his hips just right.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts out, gripping your hips tighter when you squeeze him, “letting me fuck you like this. Want everyone to see that you’re mine huh?”

One of his hands curls around your front, trailing up your body until he reaches your skimpy top. He yanks the fabric of your bikini to the side, his palm squeezing a handful of your tits as he continues to thrust into you, the coolness of his palm contrasting with the warmth of your chest.

“Just yours, only yours.” You slur out, your brain turning into putty when his dick curves just right. The way his hand squeezes and tugs at your exposed nipple has your mind spinning, your body being jostled by his thrusts and in turn making the foot that remains flat on the floor roll back and forth from the force.

“Ah, baby,” he laughs as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipple, hearing a small hum in response from you, “you’re rolling again.”

Taehyung slows his thrusts, rocking in to you more calmly as you grunt in frustration, neither of you took into account how inconvenient fucking in roller skates would be.

“My calves are cramping from holding my feet like this.” You admit with a laugh, feeling Taehyung lean his head forward until it rested in the juncture of your neck, his soft breaths hitting your skin as he chuckled.

“Okay, here bring them down flat.” He guides you, holding you steady as you even out the weight on your skates, a tiny yelp escaping you when you begin to roll down on the uneven alley floor. Taehyung repositions his feet to rest right behind the skates to keep you from sliding further, an experimental thrust of his hips being sent your way to test the hold, “Better?”

When you no longer roll back, just bump forward slightly, you sigh in relief, “Yeah, so much better. C’mon keep fucking me.” You plead, your palm coming down to wrap around the hand currently groping your tits, urging him on and he listens.

“Whatever you want baby.” He mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder as he pulls his hips back, rearing forward in a brutal pace that has you nearly shouting out. Your body hunches forward more freely now, no longer afraid of rolling away, instead your hand slides down the rough wall as you moan out his name.

His eyes catch on to the way you’re soaking his cock, leaving it slick and shiny with your arousal each time he pulls out. Taehyung feels like his mind is swimming, the whines of his name and the way you rut your hips back on him is the only anchor keeping him in the present.

He releases your nipple, trailing the hand down your front until it dips past your underwear and reaches your clit. Your reaction is instant, a loud gasp filling the air as your walls clamp down at the stimulation when he begins to rub tight circles on your sensitive nub.

“Oh god Taehyung,” you cry out, placing both hands on the wall and throwing your head back in pleasure, “you always fuck me so good.”

He grunts at your confession, the slight ego boost inflating his chest, the tiny licks of pleasure curling in his gut as he feels his release approaching, “Mm yeah? You’re creaming my cock baby, you enjoying yourself?”

Taehyung marvels at the way your back arches further, focusing on the way your ass bounces with every thrust of his hips and he can’t help himself when he delivers another harsh smack onto one of your cheeks, watching as the skin ripples and smarts at the slap.

“Ah,” you mewl, the sting of his palm sending tingles of pleasure up your spine. Your velvety walls pulse around him, always one to enjoy a little pain with your pleasure, “yes! F-fuck, I’m close Tae.”

He can tell, the way you’re sucking him in further every time he pulls out, desperate to keep him buried to the hilt, “You gonna cum like this? Gonna let everyone hear what a filthy girl you are?”

The taunting tone of his voice has your stomach tightening, the small coil of pleasure winding up inside of you with every roll of his hips, every deliberate flick of his finger against your clit. Your head turns to the side, having a clear view of the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking by. You never thought you’d enjoy the thrill of this as much as you did but the oncoming release you feel is evidence enough that you were thoroughly enjoying yourself.

“C’mon baby, let everyone hear you.” He groans out, a smile gracing his face when he hears the way you instantly do as he says, lewd moans of his name bouncing off the wall as you edge closer to your release. “Good girl.”

Your walls spasm around his cock at the praise, a few more flicks of his finger paired with his length expertly hitting your g spot every time is all it takes for your orgasm to crash over you. Your head falls forward, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as your mind momentarily blanks, every nerve in your body lighting up as you come undone.

“Oh fuck–“ your moan dies in your throat when your body tenses up, small shocks coursing through you as he continues to roll your clit, enjoying the small twitches your body gives him.

Taehyung gasps when your walls tighten even further around him, his hand retreating from your clit to firmly grasp your hips to continue fucking you through it, seeking his own release now, grunt of pleasure escaping his open mouth and reaching your ears.

“Shit,” the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy is what sends him over, his thrusts getting sloppier until hes surging forward, his cock twitching as he pumps his hot cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim with a sigh of your name.

Your forehead rests against the cold wall as you try to catch your breath, the pounding of your heart can be felt in your ears as you come down. The breathy moans of Taehyung get closer as he tucks his chin over your shoulder, still buried deep inside of you.

“That was...so fucking hot.” He confesses, a wide smile spreading across his face when he feels your body vibrate with laughter.Carefully, he slides out of you, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact.

When Taehyung pulls away and slips his softening length back into his shorts, his eyes stay glued to the way his cum coats your folds, slowly dripping out of you. That was totally unacceptable so he gathers some of it onto his fingers and stuffs it back inside you before he readjusts your underwear to fully cover you, sliding your shorts back up your legs and helping you spin back around, readjusting your top with a grin.

“My legs feel like jello.” You admit when your balance falters, Taehyung having to grip your hips tighter to keep you from toppling over onto the gross floor.

“What can I say, my dicks just that good.”

He dodges the smack he knows is coming, a deep laughing filling the air as he ducks away from you, laughing louder when your horrible aim makes you wobble around.

“Tae!” You whine, an adorable pout on your face when he only laughs some more. Your arms cross over your chest as you stare at him with a slight scowl, “Help me.”

The smile on his face softens as he looks down at you, his hands trailing along your arms to unfold them and gently clasp his fingers around yours. “Of course I’ll help you baby.”

That satisfies you, standing up straighter now that he had a hold of you, “You think we can make it to the car without either of us face planting it?”

His eyes narrow in thought, the odds really weren’t in either of your favor but an idea pops into his mind, the curl of his lips indicating just how evil he was but you miss it, too focused on not catching your wheel on a pebble. Your legs were once again reminiscent of bambi and as much as he acted like he was unaffected, blowing his load in you had made his own legs feel boneless too.

“I mean, if we fall at least we fall together?”

Right, that seemed to be the best outcome but it was fine by you and way better than the two of you staying in this dingy alley way for much longer.

He leads you out of the alley, bending forward to pick up his discarded board before exiting the hiding spot and reentering the real world. It feels like you hadn’t seen the sunlight in ages, your eyesight spotting for a second before you adjusted to the brightness of your surroundings.

Taehyung uses that to his advantage, placing his board back on the floor as he stares at you, not yet noticing that he had let your hand go because the sun was absolutely blinding.

“I’ll race you to the car.” He shouts out, not giving you a moment to respond or argue about it before he hops onto his board and takes off, his foot pushing off the floor in a haste to win.

Your mouth drops open when you see him bolt, your brows furrowing tightly on your forehead, in disbelief that he had abandoned you after claiming he’d help you, “Asshole!” You shout after him, missing the way he smiles when the words reach his ears. With that comes the scraping of your own wheels as you take off after him, a small grimace on your face when you feel the way your ruined underwear sticks to your skin.

Soon enough you’re speeding right past him, your hair flowing behind you and the muscles on your legs flexing from the force of your pushes. Taehyung lets out another loud laugh, a change of position from earlier, this time you had fallen into his trap and everything was going according to plan. With you now a few feet ahead of him Taehyung can freely ogle at your body without a care in the world.

Checkmate.

#btsghostie #btswritingcafe #bts smut #taehyung smut #tae smut #taehyung fluff #bts imagine #bts writing #kim taehyung

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ambii15 · 4 years ago

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Untitled Clexa Fic

Recently I’ve opened a very old WIP that has been sitting in my google docs. I read it over and my brain just started running with ideas for it. I’m thinking this is a possible new story for when I finished Shattered Reflections and would like to see if anyone is interested in it to be a future fic! (I think I’ve posted this on here previously but I can’t seem to find it in my archive anywhere so if I have, oh well. Here’s to reading it again!) This is only a small portion of it but please, enjoy!

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The sirens didn’t help with the nightmares.

Neither did the screams.

Pillows only blocked so much of the noise before it became too much of a steady muffled buzz in her ears. Not even the headphones now laying dejectedly on the floor seemed to work. It was almost as if the sounds were engraved in her mind. Playing on that old time record player that seemed to drone on for hours on end.

But the noises were the least of her problems.

The real fear was the bites —biters. It was like something out of a horror movie. The dead rising and stumbling uncoordinatedly through the busy streets of Los Angeles, rotting teeth sinking into ripe flesh and pulling screams of agony from the poor souls trapped beneath them. The military was supposed to control it, orders for everyone to return to their homes and stay there until everything was right again.

But it never happened.

They became mostly overrun save for a few posts that were able to keep things together long enough for some backup to arrive. Not that it was helping. Each day was different. Each day the sirens were less and less and the screams were more and more. Hope was dwindling on the horizon along with the setting sun, becoming nothing but little wisps among the darkening sky, barely able to dance among the stars.

And hope wasn’t the only thing she was running low on.

“Shit.”

An empty soup can was slammed against the counter, the last tiny crumbs from some stale crackers bouncing beside it. A dejected sigh sounded from the sole occupant of the apartment. She had only had a few rationed goods when everything started and now she had nothing. She knew no other apartments on her floor had anything in them. She’d already searched through every single one of them with little to nothing coming from them.

There were other floors.

But there was no guarantee they weren’t overrun by biters.

And with nothing more than a few flimsy kitchen knives, she would be no match if a hoard was waiting for her.

Weeping blue eyes peered over her shoulder to stare at the family photo hanging by the entryway of her kitchen. With her mind and body completely defeated, Clarke slumped against the counter before falling to her knees. Sobs racked her body as she slowly curled into herself, trying to keep herself from screaming out in sorrow.

“I’m sorry mom, dad. I’m not strong enough to do this. Not by myself.”

With shaky hands, Clarke opened the drawer to her left and reached inside. After grabbing what she needed Clarke slowly turned and sat on the dirty floor, back meeting the cool wood surface of her cabinets. She stared at the object in her hands, slowly examining it as the setting sun coming from her kitchen window bounced off the shiny metal blade.

Maybe the flimsy kitchen knives would be her savior after all.

Clarke flexed her fingers around the handle of the knife as she lowered it to the skin of her wrist. Her chest began to rise and fall in rapid succession as panic set in. The tears that lingered at the corners of her eyes finally fell along pale cheeks before splashing against the slant skin of her arms.

Clarke took a steadying breath.

She could do this.

Just before Clarke could slide the blade across her wrist the sound of her front door busting open caused her to yelp and defensively hold the knife in front of her. She jumped to her feet, hands shaking as she prepared herself to come face to face with biters for the first time. Clarke had only seen them from her living room window, watching them stumble and chasing things around the streets below her. She was nowhere near ready to have one looking her right in the eyes.

Her breathing stilled, waiting for the sounds of groans and uneven footsteps to sound through her living room and into her kitchen...but they never came. Clarke calmed her breathing, carefully switching the blade to her other, non-sweaty hand for a better grip, before easing forward with light footsteps.

As she peered around the corner of her kitchen entrance, Clarke never imagined she’d be looking right down the barrel of a rifle.

“Don’t move.”

The words were whispered but quick and harsh. The voice was one of a female, probably around Clarke’s age if not a few years older, if she had to guess, but the rifle blocked her view of her face. Clarke shakily raised her fingers from her knife, leaving only her thumb to hold it against her palm in a show of surrender.

“I-I won’t hurt you. Just...don’t shoot,” Clarke responded as she began to bend to slowly lower the weapon to the floor.

The barrel of the rifle moved impossibly closer to her forehead causing Clarke to stop in her tracks.

“I said, don’t move,” The woman growled and Clarke could see one of her hands shifting along the rifle’s handguard, the other with a cautious finger hovering over the trigger.

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to drop this,” Clarke whispered as she went to drop her knife.

“Stop,” The woman commanded before she could drop it. “Do you have any other weapons? Guns? Machete even?”

Clarke wanted to laugh. If she had even one of those things why would she choose a lousy kitchen knife to defend herself at a time like this?

“What makes you think I have a gun or a machete? I thought biters were breaking in and I’m defending myself with a kitchen knife. You really think I would choose this over either of those things?”

The rifle lowered slowly, revealing a strong jaw, smooth skin smeared with dirt, brunette hair pulled back by braids, and eyes green as a vast forest. Clarke clung to those eyes, feeling herself get lost in them and the tension easing from her body unconsciously.

“Have you been bitten?”

The words barely registered in her mind as those green eyes searched her face before dropping to search below Clarke’s neck. Clarke could feel her cheeks warm under the slight smudge of dirt covering them.

“W-what?”

The strange woman used the barrel of the gun to push Clarke’s flannel open, successfully showing off milky skin caked in weeks of dirt. If it had been any other day, if there weren’t biters crawling around the streets or the fact that there was a gun pointed at her chest, Clarke would’ve punched the woman for exposing her in such a way.

“Bites? Were. You. Bitten?” The woman snarled, eyes bouncing between Clarke’s face and body. “I won’t ask again.”

With her flannel now hanging around her elbows leaving her in nothing but a black cami, Clarke glanced down at her own skin as if to confirm for herself that she had no bites.

“N-no. I haven’t been bitten,” Clarke began slowly. “To be honest, I’ve never even come face to face with a biter. I’ve only ever seen them from my window.”

Green eyes darted over to the window Clarke had weakly gestured towards before landing back on her. The muscles in the woman’s jaw clenched before raising her gun back towards Clarke’s face.

“Are there any others here with you?”

From her position, Clarke was still able to see the picture of her family hanging on the wall. Blue eyes clouded over in sadness and drifted down to the dirty floor of her apartment.

“No. It’s just me.”

Clarke kept her eyes to the ground, resigning herself to whatever fate this beautiful saw fit for her. Just mere minutes ago she was ready to end her own life. What should it matter to her if this stranger chose to do it for her?

“Keep the knife. You’ll need it.”

The knot that had formed in her stomach since the moment her apartment door had opened suddenly eased. Hazy baby blues snapped up from the floor as the woman stepped around Clarke and into her kitchen. Clarke watched as the stranger started moving around the empty cabinets in search of food that Clarke knew would not be there. She almost wanted to laugh when the woman let out a string of curses as she opened the last cabinet.

“There’s nothing here,” Clarke chimed. “There’s nothing on this floor at all. I’ve checked.”

The rifle that had been shoved in Clarke’s face now bounced against the woman’s chest as she turned to face her. They exchanged glances across the kitchen, neither choosing to voice just how bad of a situation no food was at a time like this.

“You’ve been in here since it all started?”

Clarke’s eyes finally explored the full form of the woman who now leaned back against the counter. She wore a simple black t-shirt covered with a few dark stains which Clarke assumed to be blood. A black leather jacket, which was surprisingly clean, hung over her lean shoulders and Clarke almost blushed as her eyes drifted down to gaze at toned thighs wrapped in dark denim.

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded as her eyes lingered on the dark timberland boots the stranger wore. “After the military called for a mandatory stay-at-home order I never left, but almost all the people in the building didn’t listen because they thought the city was unsafe. That’s why all the apartments are all empty...well at least on this floor. I don’t know about the others.”

A sudden dark chuckle slipped past the woman’s pouty lips.

“So you haven’t left this floor for what? Almost two months?”

Clarke’s eyes rose to the ceiling, silently trying to count the days in her head but failing.

“Honestly, I don’t know how long it’s really been. I barely had any food to begin with, no weapons to defend myself, so I just chose to hole up in my room. Sleep the days away and hopefully wait for the day that help comes.”

This time, a bitter laugh sounded through the kitchen.

“Help isn’t coming. It never was.”

And the last of Clarke’s hope was crushed. Not that it hadn’t been already. If she was honest with herself, Clarke knew long ago that there was never going to be any help after the military in the city fell. If their numbers in Los Angeles were overrun...there was definitely no hope for any other cities.

“I...I kind of figured that. After the military, after watching all those things cover the streets, I had a feeling there was nothing -no one- left. I guess part of me was just hanging on to that hope that maybe something would change and someone would come...maybe that’s the only thing that’s kept me sane this long. The thought of being saved.”

The strange woman absentmindedly pushed at the empty soup can Clarke had discarded earlier as she processed her words. After a few beats of silence the woman pushed herself away from the cabinet, hands pulling her rifle back into her grasp and moving over to the little window in Clarke’s kitchen and peering down.

“You can’t sit here and wait for someone to save you. You have to save yourself. Because no one else is coming.”

Clarke glanced curiously at the intricate braids woven through the woman’s hair and suddenly felt the need to know if she wore it the same way before the biters.

“But you’re here,” Clarke found herself suddenly saying.

She didn’t know why she said it. Maybe because it was true. Here was this woman, armed and fierce looking, like she knew what she was doing, standing in Clarke’s empty kitchen. Clarke lived on the fifth floor and if her fear was right, that there were biters on the floors below her, then the woman obviously had to sneak around them or fight them off to get here. Whatever the case was, it meant she knew what she was doing...and Clarke needed someone like that to help her learn to survive in this world.

That thought was jarring to her. Not even minutes ago she was ready to leave this world, but now? Now Clarke found herself staring at this woman and thinking that she could have a chance at living. That maybe she could be taught how to navigate this new world and fight back.

Survive.

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Please let me know if you’d be interested in me continuing this story in the future! I look forward to writing more for this little universe that’s running around in my head once my other fic is finished! :)

#clexa #clexa au #clexa zombie au #clexa are soulmates #clexa fic #Lexa Woods #clarke griffin #lexa #clarke #untitled clexa fic

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srrrokka · 4 years ago

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WIP Tag

I got tagged by @exultedshores to post a snipped of one of my wips! Thank you, Shores, you know that this is the only way they shall see light of the day :’)

The following bit is from the first chapter of To All That Is Lost, a Corvo/Daud fic. (Couldn’t find a good moment to crop this so it’s a bit over 3k, just saying.)

I shall tag @screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse, @puppyblueao3, @modlisznik, and @ptera-novaeangliae :3c

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Maybe it was that he became too cocky, too confident after a month-long streak of easy, uninterrupted burglaries and theft—or rather scavenging, considering the flats he entered had been mostly emptied by the plague already—or perhaps it was the gnawing hunger, twisting his stomach into painful knots that spurred him onward into actions bordering on straight up idiotic. Regardless of the cause, Corvo found himself south of the river, uncomfortably close to a Watch outpost swarming with officers and equipped with not one but two arc pylons.

A string of colourful Serkonan curses fell from his lips between one heavy breath and another as he ran out onto a narrow makeshift bridge linking two opposing buildings, and prayed to the Outsider, and any other being listening, that he wouldn't get shot from the street below. He fisted his left hand, ignoring the throbbing headache it caused. Turquoise light flared from under the too long sleeve of his tattered sweater. The moment his fingers unclenched, he was on the other side, slamming the balcony door shut with his foot. He stumbled forward, looking for a way out, his worn leather coat flapped around his shins as he whirled around.

Stairs. Stairs leading to the ground floor. No breaking legs today.

Angry shouting from the footbridge pushed him forward as if he had wings and he nearly flew down the first flight of stairs, jumping three steps at a time. The few things in the canvas bag slung over his shoulder slammed their sharp edges into his thigh where it bounced with every step. But he barely registered the pain.

"Stop! Stay where you are!" Corvo froze at the words, his eyes wide behind the simple leather mask. He nearly ran into the Watchman climbing towards him.

Upstairs a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass announced other officers being right at his tail. He let out a strained breath. If there was no way up or down... there was always left and right.

He swallowed hard and, using the handrail like a springboard, jumped over it and into the drop between the steps. The fall wasn't massive, but it was enough to nearly make Corvo land on his knees, all of the muscles in his body strained with the impact. Probably only due to the adrenaline rushing in his veins and humming like a waterfall in his ears did he manage to not stumble and immediately broke into a run.

The way out was so close, so very close. He could make it. He could live another day.

A light blue shine on the right caught his eye. Whale oil tank powering one of the arc pylons. He forgot about the arc pylons!

"Don't move! There's no escape!" yelled one of the officers behind him and he shot a quick glance in his direction. There were five of them, already nearly at the ground floor.

With a metallic scrape, Corvo yanked the whale oil tank from its socket and blinked down at it as the contents swirled dangerously behind the glass. He had an idea. It was a bad idea. But it seemed to be just the day for those.

He tossed the tank towards the staircase and broke into a desperate sprint.

The heartbeat in his chest counted down to the explosion along with his frantic footfall. He caught one hand on the door frame to aid in taking a sharp turn. But instead it helped him not to tumble forward when he slammed into someone's solid form.

It felt as if time had slowed down for him. Against all logic there was enough time to look at the man in a red leather coat in front of him — his light grey piercing eyes wide in surprise, grab his lapels into a grip so tight Corvo's knuckles felt like they were about to dislocate, and yank him away from the entrance, spinning them around and slamming him against the wall right next to it. The man opened his mouth, a scowl growing on his features, but whatever he had to say was swallowed by an explosion that shook the marrow in Corvo's bones. They both instinctively curled in response, trying to shield themselves as much as possible, as a ball of fire shot out with an angry roar from the building.

Through the ringing in his ears, Corvo heard what seemed like quite a large number of people yelling. He couldn't quite make out the words but when he lifted his head and his eyes met the red-coat's, he knew it was time to go.

They both lunged away from the swarm of Watchmen at the same time as if signalled by a starter pistol. They sped down along the street, kicking up clouds of dust and Void knows what else, as a thunder of several gunshots cracked behind them sharply like a whip. A bullet hit the cobble near Corvo's feet and ricocheted away with a high-pitched whistle. He grit his teeth, willing his legs to go faster.

Regardless of how bad the Watch was at aiming, they would eventually get shot if they continued on in a straight line like that.

As if knowing his thoughts precisely, the man at his side yanked him by the arm to the left, nearly throwing him over in the process. Corvo scrambled gracelessly with him towards a narrow, shaded alleyway. It was closed off by a tall brick wall, too tall even for him to Blink on top of, if he had any energy left for that in the first place.

But his companion didn't seem too perturbed by the fact that he was leading them into a corner. Either he had a plan or he was simply insane. Either way, one thing was clear — there was no going back now.

Corvo was about to open his mouth to voice the concern, when a strong, gloved arm pulled him closer to its owner, wrapping itself tightly around his middle.

In the space between a heartbeat and another, an endless sea of whispers like the last breath escaping a hundred souls surrounded him along with a swirl of ash. The sensation of misplacement that followed was familiar in the most unfamiliar way — weightlessness guided by the purpose of another, not his. Then, as the ash parted, the world caught up to him in a wrong angle, wrong space, wrong altitude.

And with a breathless exhale he fell.

The only thing that saved him from landing three stories down in a pile of broken bones and blood on the hard concrete, was the mindless instinct to grab. The old cast iron balcony railing rattled dangerously under his weight, as the gravity almost wrenched his shoulders out of their sockets and his solar plexus hit the outer edge of the stone floor, making him fruitlessly gasp for air with a painful wheeze.

Above him, heavy boots on either side of Corvo's palms, the red-clad man struggled to keep his balance on the balustrade — arms spread wide, attempting to counteract the wobble Corvo was causing. Quickly enough, he regained his footing, jumped back onto the landing, and, having thrown a glance to the mouth of the alley, grabbed the back of Corvo's coat and helped him clamber up and into the building.

With a ruckus equal only to a herd of blood oxen, the stampede of Watchmen turned the corner and ran into the dead-end below, to their surprise, finding it completely empty.

The wave of relief that came over Corvo, as he watched them scramble aimlessly through a dust-covered window, was like a splash of pleasantly cool water. His lungs were burning, all the muscles in his body were screaming with exhaustion, and his head was pounding, but he was alive and he would continue to be, even if the following morning he'd probably regret his continued existence.

A dry barking cough brought his attention back to the person in the room with him — tall and well built, with a narrow face on the side of which was a long scar that disappeared all the way under the collar of his thick white shirt, and armed to the teeth. But most importantly–

"You're Marked," Corvo found himself rasping out with disbelief between the slowing breaths, and cleared his throat. It wasn't a question, the man was just like him. It never even crossed his mind he could meet another blessed by the Outsider. "Who are you?"

"Depends who's asking..." he replied, voice low and husky. His eyes narrowed as he looked over Corvo with a gaze calculating enough to make him irrationally self conscious about his scruffy appearance.

Having lifted his left hand, Corvo slipped his thumb out of the hole in the side of his sweater sleeve, showing off the back of his hand. The Outsider's mark stood stark black like spilled ink on his skin. "A fellow heretic," he supplied with a self-satisfied note in his voice and bent his fingers, willing a flash of turquoise light to highlight the sharp lines.

It reflected in the man's steely eyes but, apart from the most subtle shift in posture that did not escape Corvo, it invoked no reaction whatsoever. Maybe it was best to let him mull the news over for a moment or two. If the gifts of the Leviathan were as rare as he was made to believe, the man was surely as shocked as he was.

With that through, Corvo peered outside again and found only two officers still standing in the alley. The irrelevance of that number let him relax further and he rolled his aching shoulders as he looked around the abandoned flat. It must have been grand once — high ceilings of white stone and wooden flooring with intricate patterns now filled with grime and dust like everything else. Several pieces of furniture were still there; maybe some other treasures could be found too.

"I'm Daud," the Marked finally said dryly, the arms crossed over his chest nearly audible in his words.

Corvo didn't turn to look and continued rifling through the drawers of a water damaged desk. "Just Daud?"

"You're not from around here, are you?"

He froze, fingers just above the splotchy brown surface of a tarnished brass knob. For the second time that day his heart jumped straight to his throat. Was that one innocent question really enough to give away his complete lack of knowledge about Gristol? "You that famous?"

"As much as getting dubbed the 'Knife of Dunwall' warrants," Daud said darkly and leaned his shoulder on the nearby wall, making some loose flakes of plaster and paint fall to the floor.

"Oh, right, I heard about you. Head of the Whalers." Corvo finally reached into the drawer and shuffled the yellowed papers around.

"And you are?" Daud put a bit more stress on that question, clearly getting irked by him avoiding any solid answers.

Nimble fingers pocketed a silver coin from under the papers and, not having found anything more of interest, he turned around to sit on the edge of the dresser. "Attano. Corvo Attano." With his thumb he pushed the leather mask up to rest on the top of his head and rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Nice to make your acquaintance," he added with a cocky smile.

"Attano," Daud repeated slowly as if trying his name out. "A Serk, huh?"

"Problem?"

"Not at all. I'm from Serkonos myself."

"A little pale for that," Corvo grinned at him smugly from across the room.

Daud raised an eyebrow, the arc of it a sharp angle. "So are you."

"Touché."

In his most recent memory he wasn't — he used to be quite tan, skin sun-kissed with constant running around in the Serkonan heat — but it must have been decades ago, considering how he looked at the present and how the gap between then and now felt nearly endless. A black void of a sudden cliff's edge.

"So, Attano." Corvo's attention snapped back to the assassin as he spoke again. "How long have you been in Dunwall?"

The desk whined underneath him when he shifted, eyeing Daud with narrowed eyes. Something felt off about this. "No offence, but what's it to you?"

"Just curious," he shrugged.

"Aha, sure. Do you show this interest to every person you meet on the street?" Corvo gritted out and got properly back onto his feet, ready to move at any time. Did the man think he was stupid? "Listen, if you want something from me, say it and stop running circles. But, as far as I see it, I saved your skin and you saved mine so we are done here."

"Straight to the point, I can appreciate that." Daud pushed himself off of the wall and half-heartedly dusted off his shoulder. "I want to offer you employment. You've got some skill, and certain other advantages, which I would definitely use among my men."

That caught Corvo completely off guard. "What, you want me to be a Whaler?" he asked incredulously. "Sorry, Knife, but I am no assassin."

"No one said you have to be an assassin. Other positions are available."

It seemed too good to be true. As far as Corvo and many other people of his status were concerned, the looking a gift horse in the mouth saying was a steaming pile of oxen dung. Always question an overly generous gesture because it might turn out that under the surface it isn't one at all.

But despite that, Corvo couldn't stop a spark of hope igniting at the very back of his mind. Having a job, no matter how shady, would not only give him some means to live but also put a sense of structure into the confusing wreck of his life. The Outsider only knows how difficult and terrifying the last month was for him.

Daud graciously let him consider the offer for a good while but when he finally spoke again it was like putting a marble block on the scale. "I can also offer you a safe corner to sleep in and a reliable supply of food."

A ravenous twist of his empty stomach sent Corvo's thoughts to the two heavily bruised apples at the bottom of his bag — his only food. "You got me there..." He exhaled slowly. There shouldn't be any harm in chancing the truth, should there? "Listen, it's not that I'm not willing. I just doubt I would be useful to you."

Confusion clear in the tilt of his head and eyes scanning, Daud questioned on, "How so? You seem capable enough to me."

"What if I told you I can't remember the last fifteen, maybe twenty years of my life?" Corvo asked, throat tighter at the admission than he expected. It occurred to him then that he hadn't told anyone about this before. He hoped it didn't sound too much like a weird excuse. "I doubt I would be useful to you because I don't even know what I can do."

"That's... rough," Daud managed. His grey eyes darkened under a deep frown. He seemed horrified by that concept, in a faraway, concealed way. Or maybe Corvo just wanted him to be.

Corvo laughed mirthlessly, "Yeah, tell me about it... All I've got is the last month and then nothing until I was a kid." His eyes dropped, fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of his tattered bag.

"We can always find out what you can do. Or put you through training," the assassin offered.

That wasn't a bad concept. He definitely had muscle memory of some skills, like the mark and various sword fighting techniques he doesn't recall knowing in his youth. But it was unexpected how easily the Knife came to accept his affliction. So with a frown of his own he looked the man dead in the eye, challenging. "Excuse my distrust, but you are very... intent on getting me on your side. Why?"

Daud considered his words for a short moment. "You're Marked," he finally said simply. "There are very few of us and those who are alive are very powerful. I would most definitely not want an enemy out of you."

"And that's why you want me under your heel. Makes sense," Corvo thought out loud and immediately winced inwardly. It sounded much more malicious than he intended. Fortunately, Daud didn't seem bothered by that remark.

"You would be under my command, yes, but it's not like I would be able to control you, Attano," he reasoned. "You can leave whenever you want to."

"So what are your conditions?" Corvo asked as if he hadn't decided already.

The corners of Daud's narrow lips curled up in a knowing smile. He was undeniably handsome, in a sharp and dangerous kind of way that either made one's blood freeze or run hot, no in between. With slight amusement Corvo found that he fell under the latter category. There was something exhilarating in being under the scrutiny of those icy, attentive eyes.

We learnt something new about ourselves there, huh?

"The Whalers are more of an organised force compared to other gangs — everyone has their own function and a strict hierarchy is in place. As such, I would expect you to follow my orders and those of the ones above you." When Daud began moving in his direction with leisurely steps, one arm behind his back and the other gesturing loosely as he talked, Corvo straightened his back instinctively. With eerie ease he felt himself slip into the alert stiffness he could expect from Watchmen during an official briefing. "To trust you with our secrets, I need your loyalty. But as I said, you can quit at your discretion. Preferably by telling me, otherwise it might so happen that you could be considered a traitor and hunted for sport." The last words were accompanied by a dark glint in the master assassin's eyes. That was not an empty threat.

None of what he was asking for was unreasonable, Corvo had to admit. And considering he wouldn't be forced into killing people, it seemed like a great deal all around. Then again, casting his mind back to the officers he blew up — probably gravely injured, if not dead due to his actions — didn't fill him with too much remorse, so maybe they could make an assassin out of him still.

Lightly, he tapped the heel of his boot on the wooden panelling several times, rolling all of it over in his head for the last time. Then on a long exhale he said, "Alright. I'm all yours."

#yo stuff #Fic: To All That Is Lost #dishonored #corvodaud

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depizan · 4 years ago

Text

100 Days of Writing

I am so behind on @the-wip-project‘s 100 Days of Writing, and none of the prompts I’ve missed are really making my brain spark, so, uh, howabout

100 Days of Writing, Day Mac Just Made This Up: background character bits I’d like to work into fic, but am not sure if/when I’ll manage it

In an ideal world, Savler’s family would, at some point, make an appearance. Unfortunately, I don’t have much experience with large families or children, so I’m not sure if I could write them. I know she keeps in contact with them and visits occasionally with presents for her nieces and nephews and family friendly tales of her exploits as a Bounty Hunter. (Which means both keeping things PG for the kiddies and not calling too much attention to the fact that her job is largely hunting criminals...and her family, er, are criminals. It’s a bit awkward.)

Hell, even her cybernetic eye has only been mentioned in a ficlet that might be short enough to actually be a drabble. (This is partly because it didn’t occur to me right away that there’s no way she could’ve gotten the scar on her face without losing that eye, and partly because I am not always good at working these things into fic. It’s not like her eye does anything besides be an eye. I expect she doesn’t think of it much herself. Other than when she needs to get it serviced and ponders the question of whether she should have a fancier - if more obvious - eye. Like, are the advantage of special targeting hookups or different kinds of vision worth having a distinctive feature you can’t hide? She can slap makeup over the scar. A cybernetic eye that could do cool things would look like a cybernetic eye.)

Now that I think about it, I haven’t really addressed her dislike of spies in fic. Yeah, she spent a fic thinking the worst of Kyrian, but the underlying (and kind of hypocritical) issue of spies treating everyone as things never really came up. (Maybe she and Jez can talk about Jez’s SIS work sometime???)

I’m still struggling to actually work into fic Jezari’s backstory with regard to her father being killed by someone he thought was a friend and her (with Savler’s help) eventually hunting down the killer and shooting him lots. I know all that happened. Has any of that been mentioned in fic? Nope. (At least the fact that she didn’t know what her mom does did get worked into a ficlet.) At the rate I’m going, all of Jezari’s backstory will end up in the fic where her mom eventually reappears. (Assuming I figure out how to write that.) But maybe I have a chance to work at least a little of her back story into my current wip... Maybe.

I haven’t even actually mentioned how Jezari got into working for the SIS. (Though I don’t really need to. I’ve mentioned enough to get across the general idea that what she does for them has definitely expanded from what she started out doing for them. Still, it wasn’t “hey random probably criminal civilian, please do spy stuff for us.” It was “the probably criminal freighter pilot we hired to give our agent passage saved our agent, let’s keep her holofrequency in our files.”)

You’d think Kyrian’s parents having been killed in the war (as in they were Imperial military and died in a battle with the Republic) would be important backstory, especially with Jezari’s Republic connections. But he blames the war and not the Republic, so it really isn’t. (I didn’t set out to have him kind of collect tropes that don’t go like they’re supposed to, but he kind of has. The character orphaned by the war is supposed to hate the other side and be motivated by it. The character with a facial scar that was intended (the scar, not the injury) as punishment is supposed to be upset about that. The character who’s a spy is supposed to be manipulative and dishonest - either by nature or by habit. (Okay, manipulative, yes...sort of...in a diplomancing situations sense, not in a lying liar who lies sense.) I’m not even sure he did being caught between ethics and duty right, since he picked ethics and tried to filter duty through that. ... The hero who the villain costs (nearly) everything is supposed to seek revenge not decide that the best thing would be to never run into him again. Adventure characters are supposed to bounce back from bad shit by being willing/able to do violence again, not being willing/able to diplomance people again. Yeah, somehow he is the character who can’t do tropes right. Maybe I should be pondering what weird twist/alternative to being The Atoner he’ll come up with. Or it will just happen.)

Uh...that kind of drifted there toward the end. Oh well.

#100daysofwriting #Aori Savler #Jezari Solarin #Kyrian Nessar

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

Note

No problem! What if you used Cold Blooded Torture and Trying to Wake Them Up? (I would like it if you used Logan as the victim but you can do whoever!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written.)

Requests for this card are closed for now as I have quite a bit to work on with this and personal projects. An ordered wip post will be made after this one if you’re curious what I’m working on. Also i apologize for this being written so long after you requested it, my hiatus took a little longer than expected. I hope you enjoy this though!

Across The Hall He Waits For You

Summary: Logan wakes up in a confusing environment with an even more confusing man keeping him prisoner. But just when he thinks he's finally free, he only becomes more trapped.

Warnings: psychological torture, physical violence, crying, minor character death, blood, broken bones. If there are more you need added please let me know!

Prompt: Cold Blooded Torture, Trying to Wake Them Up

Ships: Analogical, Logan x Virgil

WC: 4, 805

AO3 Link

Logan's breath caught as the faint screaming finally cut off, the final echoes bouncing around in his cell until they faded out completely. His was a soundproof room, as he expected the other's had to be since it seemed as if under any other circumstances this would be a regular house. The walls were lined with acoustic panels from floor to ceiling, the latter covered with them save for the light source and the former having plush deep green carpeting that was covered with a plastic tarp around where his chair sat. Logan shivered involuntarily as he thought for the umpteenth time what that could mean for him.

The chair was simple and wooden, his bare legs sticking to it uncomfortably with his ankles and knees strapped down tightly with creaking leather strips. The fact that they seemed to be little more than modified belts gave him the barest hint of hope that maybe whoever was keeping him here for whatever reason wasn't experienced in...whatever it was they were doing that Logan carefully pushed to the back of his mind. The window was shut and boarded up with more panelling from what he could see over his shoulder but dim light still filtered through to him from the slightly open door.

He smiled thinly as it reminded him of his son, always needing the door open just a bit with some form of light coming through to scare away the monsters he was sure were lurking in the darkest corners of his room, imagination that was so bright in the sun turned menacing fangs towards him in the dark, making him cry and run down the hall to their room most nights to crawl safely between him and his husband. Something that he now very much understood as slow tears tracked down his cheeks, wrists straining against more creaking bonds that held his hands securely behind the back of the chair. He hung his head low as he once again wracked his brain for any reason he could possibly be here.

A prank? Much too cruel of one to pull on anyone, especially for this long. It had been at least a day from what Logan could assess, maybe longer as he didn't know how long he had been unconcious in the room. Everything was placed just a bit too dilerberatly for this to be a prank as well, his bonds just a bit too tight, the fact that he was naked except for his boxers and the people who knew him certainly knew how uncomfortable he would be with it. So that left more malicious reasons. He was held like he was going to be tortured, that much he could gathe from the screams. The tarp made it seem like it would be heavily physical, though no tools were present in the room from what he could see to give a sense of how. Had a serial killer taken him? He hadn't heard of any cases. Assasination? He wasn't that important to his knowledge, a lowly lab tech for a blood lab hardly jumped out as being anyone with important enough knowledge to warrant whatever he was in for. That left just a random person taking another random person in to do with what they would, which also made very little sense since the room was so well prepared.

All the thinking did was deepen the pit of anxiety curling his stomach muscles tight and making him shake slightly with fear and anticipation, thoughts bouncing from one point in his skull to the next making him even more disoriented than he was before. He craved for something, anything to happen, just so long as he wasn't isolated with his spiraling thoughts anymore, on a chair his clammy skin stuck to with little relief from shifting and creaking leather binding him to it in a way that had most of his extremities falling asleep. His fingers flexed with maddening numbness as he once again tried to shift stiffly in his confines, really only succeeding in making everything worse. Huffing out a breath before holding it in sudden fear he strained his ears to listen.

Boots squeaked on what was either hardwood or linoleum outside his door and as the door creaked open he was mildly surprised that if he hadn't been tied down the man who entered wouldn't be intimidating at all. Wispy brown hair hung messily around bright green eyes that held no expression at all. A mask covered his mouth and nose while a plain rumpled tshirt, jeans and work boots dressed the rest of him. The door creaked as he shut it and he swung a small backpack down to the floor almost casually, making no effort to even look at the helpless man in the center of the room. Logan watched with baited breath as the man rummaged around, gathering his courage and opening his mouth.

"Where-"

The other mans reflexes were quick, a small pocket knife clattering to the ground between his feet before his mouth even registered the pain. It had thankfully been closed when it was thrown, leaving what he assessed to be little more than a swollen lip but his anxiety only climbed to new heights with the split second interaction.

The man continued to rummage in his pack, seemingly pushing around fabric and tools Logan couldn't see until he pulled out a water bottle. He tensed as the man stood and walked up to him, holding the open bottle to his lips patiently. Carefully Logan took a few sips before it was taken away. A folding chair was brought over from against a wall Logan couldn't see and the man sat down heavily on it, drinking from the same bottle lazily as he settled. Logan let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least the water hadn't been poisoned...unless poison could sit on top and he got the most potent dose and the man was leading him into a false sense of security and was just waiting-

Inwardly he shook himself from his thoughts. He couldn't afford to panic, that would be his husband's job, which he winced to think about. He was probably frantic, already suffering from anxiety and now Logan missing...did the man take him too? Is that who the other screams belonged to? His chest constricted as he looked back up.

"Where is-" Again he was cut off with the blunt end to the knife in his face, picked up when he wasn't paying attention and cracking his lower lip this time, falling in the same place between his feet. Leaning forward the other man grabbed the knife back, dragging it slowly against the carpet as he sat up.

"Speak when spoken to." He said simply.

Under any other circumstances Logan would say fuck it and yell and scream until he had no voice, but he needed more information and couldn't risk getting him upset. If he was able to escape he needed to be in the best shape possible and taking the chance the man was throwing randomly and risking getting an eye poked out certainly wasn't in his best interest. So he tried his best to relax, swiping his tongue over the well of blood on his lip and staring ahead expectantly.

The man settled back and regarded him with interest, the only clue into any emotion a slightly quirked eyebrow. He capped the water bottle and set it between his legs on the chair, bringing his hands up to rest on top of his head while twirling the knife expertly between his fingers.

"Logan Brian Croft. Interesting name."

Confused, Logan only nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to dismiss the fact that this man knew his full name.

"And your son, Roman, he's what...four? Five?"

"If you have done anything to my son, rest assured I'll-" He cried out as his lip split further, the knife once again between his feet.

"Speak when spoken to. Answer the questions given. You're smart this shouldn't be too hard." The wiry man picked up the knife again and twirled it aimlessly as he watched Logan squirm under his gaze, a glare fixed upon his swelling face. "So, four? Five?"

"He's seven." Logan spat, blood spattering on his knee.

The man smirked as he settled in more. "Seven then. Young enough to get fairy tales read to him still?"

What in the world was this person getting at? "Of course."

"What's his favorite?"

"...I- he likes so many. I suppose he's been partial to The Twelve Dancing Princesses lately."

"Mm. Bit of a less popular one." The knife was set down to Logan's immediate relief, the man's arms crossing over his chest. "Tell me about it. What's the plot?"

"What?" Thoroughly confused but quick to realize his mistake he hastily amended. "Yes right! It tells the story of twelve princesses being locked in their room each night but in the morning their shoes being worn down as though they were out all night. The king, not receiving any explanation from them, implores any man to discover their secret within three days or be sentenced to death." Here he paused and looked at the other for confirmation to continue, to which he nodded. Perplexed Logan pressed on.

'Just play the game right.' He thought. 'Just survive.'

"Many men try and fail to stay awake to discover their secret as the princesses give them sleeping potions each night. An old soldier on his way to the castle receives a magic cloak and a warning against the wine from an old woman. As might falls he pretends to sleep then dons the cloak to spy, following them through a trap door leading to a grove then a lake then a castle where they all dance the night away. Taking branches and a goblet as evidence to the king, the princess's finally confess. The king makes the soldier his heir and gives him the eldest daughters hand in marriage as a reward."

The man nods thoughtfully. "Odd he likes it so much but I guess that's kids for you. But wasn't it an old man who gave the soldier the warning?"

Logan furrowed his brow as he thought. He was certain it had been a woman but it was such a small detail, and with no means to look it up...he eyes the knife fearfully, his lip still throbbing. "Yes I- suppose it might have been."

Smirking, the man stands not before pocketing the knife and holds up the water bottle again. Getting a few sips before it was taken away the man refolded the chair, grabbed his bag, and left.

Logan blinked. That...couldn't be it. He was expecting an interrogation, more violence, personal questions; though he was thankful it hadn't gone that way it left him no less cofused. He tugged a bit more at his bonds and his heart leapt in his chest at the realization that maybe they felt just the slightest bit looser. Straining his ears for any signs the man would return soon and hearing none he settled back as much as he could and grit his teeth. Flexing his muscles he stretched the belt section as much as he could by pulling his wrists apart, the edges digging even more painfully at the already tender flesh. He didn't get very far but held it there for as long as he could before laxing and stretching his tingling fingers. Rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling he took a breath and tensed again.

-------

Waking up again had Logan flinching back from green eyes violently seeing his captor sat not one foot away from him. The door was slightly open behind him and he could just make out the sound of muffled crying coming from somewhere nearby.

"Who is-" A crack sounded shortly in the altered room, Logan's cheek throbbing and neck bending sideways with the force of the blow. Tears threatened to spill as he glared stubbornly back at the man, who looked on as impassively as ever.

"Forgotten the rules already? Figured you'd be smarter than that."

He shifted to sit straighter as the other leaned back, wrists aching from the strain he had put on them the day prior. He could feel the dull throb of his heartbeat in his fingertips and he tried in vain to flex his fingers, only earning painful spasms in return. A water bottle was again shoved in his face and with it came the realization that he needed a bathroom. Thankfully it wasn't yet uncomfortable but it was enough to make him hesitate taking the offer. Deciding staying hydrated was ultimately more important he earned a few sips against his cracked lip before it was taken away entirely too soon, making him want to whine at the loss but not wanting to give anything away.

Logan noticed the knife in the man's front pocket and cringed involuntarily while his abuser downed half the bottle himself, smacking his lips and laying a hand on the handle as a warning. Through nerves making his chest tighten once again Logan tried his best to concentrate on what the other might want today.

"Your son, you said he's six right?"

"Seven." Logan answered automatically.

"Hm. So that would mean he's in first grade."

"Yes." Llgan nearly smiled at the thought of how much Roman enjoyed school. He did very well, always getting straight A's and B's and making new friends. He was such an outgoing child, so much unlike his fathers and Logan honestly didn't know where he got it from. He supposed someone had to be the personable one in their small family.

"Does he talk about his friends a lot?" This sent Logan immediately on edge. If this person expected Logan to talk about his sons friends and possibly put them in danger- he would gladly take whatever punishment there was to keep them safe. Seeing the look on his face the other shook his head. "You can abbreviate their names, no harm is coming to them. Just making some friendly conversation. It's not as if I don't already have their information."

"I-"

"There's Patton right? Little curly haired boy, rather skittish. And Janus, odd name but he goes by Dee anyway...he's the one with eczema right?" Alarm bells ringing Logan began shaking his head.

"N-no, you have that wrong. Janus is someone entirely diff-" His desperate attempt to throw him off was met with another back-handed slap to the same cheek, making his vision wink with blackness temporarily.

"Don't lie. I have the information already and all playing hero will get you is more than you could handle."

Thoroughly fed up, Logan sat up and spat blood in the other man's face, earning slight satisfaction in the brief look of shock that crossed over it. Cringing slightly at the look he recieved but staring up with defiance none the less he watched as the man wiped his cheek in mild disgust.

"I wouldn't have done that."

"Fuck you." The words felt strange falling from his mouth, he rarely ever swore especially directed at others, but the fear was rapidly being replaced by adrenaline as his body braced itself for punishment, drowning out any and all rational thought. When the man stood however, he turned and left the room, leaving the door open enough that he could just catch sight of the beige hallways walls beyond.

When the screaming started, the adrenaline high he'd been riding left him so quickly it left him gasping for breath, the previous defiance replaced with a cold pit of dread as the persons pitch went up to a painful octave. Both doors must have been left open for how clearly their voice came through now. Shutting his eyes tightly against it he could only listen as wave after wave of guilt washed over him as whatever was happening seemed to go on endlessly.

The screams turned desperate as the other captive began pleading brokenly. "Please stop, please! I'll do whatever you want! I'll stay quiet, I'll talk, I'll die just PLEASE!"

The last word came out more like a pained shriek that made him flinch back violently in his chair. Something was thrown hard and clattered against something solid making the sound echo briefly over the gasping sobs coming from whoever was in the other room. A door was slammed shut cutting off the sounds before footsteps could be heard coming closer. Logan refused to look up as their torturer entered the room, earning a scoff as he hoisted up his pack to leave.

"I think I've given you enough to think about for today." The door was shut firmly as the rest of the fight drained from Logan and he slumped forward, not noticing the bonds pulling painfully at his joints. Screams echoed in his skull on a constant loop that try as he might would not be expelled from his mind.

Enough to think about indeed.

----------

"Tell me a fact."

Logan lifted his head tiredly from his chest, blinking slowly at the blurring man. It had been five or six days by his estimate, sleeping slumped in his chair for who knows how long, waking up to recieve sips of water and once a sandwitch crammed down his throat, using the alotted down time to stretch at the bonds around his wrists. Always with the out of the blue questions that he would get a detail wrong about. Lack of proper nutrition and hydration was leaving him feel slow and dimwitted.

What was his son's favorite fairy tale again? The Twelve Dancing Princess'....or was it The Frog Prince? He had a frog plush he really liked so maybe...but no, he knew his son. That had to be it, but the plot was fuzzy and out of focus, details from too many stories mushing together. Did his son have two friends he talked about or was it three? There was another boy who bullied him often but kids would be kids and perhaps it was more friendly competition...at least that's what the man had suggested. He couldn't verify the information and was too tired to care anymore. He got hurt when he asked questions so maybe questions weren't necessary. His captor knew a lot about them and seemed to be in much better health than he was at this point so maybe he did know better.

His thoughts were interupted with a harsh pinch to the frail skin of his thigh. Both of his thighs were covered in bruises from the days prior, and his face was a constant throbbing ache that made his head pound and thoughts slur even more. He was tired and cold and hungry. His mouth tasted like sour blood and he never got enough water to rinse it out properly. Above everything else he really had to pee, but he hadn't been taken out of the chair since he arrived. He wanted nothing more than to be at home, in bed with his husband and son under a mound of blankets with Roman's stuffed bunny pressed into his face and his love's arms securely wrapped around his waist. All he had instead were screams and a hard chair.

A punch to his other thigh made him yelp and look up. "Focus. Tell me a fact. Come on you're full of them."

He didn't understand the game they were playing. What was the point of talking if he'd be told he was wrong anyway? His memories were failing and just yesterday he had forgotten blood was red because it had no oxygen. That seemed so absurd to him at the time but he supposed in his deteriorated state mistakes were bound to happen. Even mistakes regarding a job he had held for years. What was it he had wanted? A fact, right.

"According to all known laws of aviation-" he slurred, giggling a bit to himself as his captive sat back with a carefully neutral expression. His heart leapt in his throat as he stood up and left the room, weakly calling out that he could do better. Before the door was shut he caught sight of a phone in the others hands, making his brain have a semi coherent thought if he ever escaped where to get to a phone.

The door failed to shut all the way and Logan strained his ears to be able to hear the muttering the other side, faintly catching a bit before he moved further down the hall.

"He's getting more and more delirious I think I'll be able to get it out of him soon. ......husb............breaking...." Logan's ears perked at the nearly incoherent sentence. Husband? His husband? Was he here? Was he okay? What about Roman??

With the door open he could hear faint moaning from the other room, and with it came a burst of numb resolve. He was weak but so were his bonds as he had steadily been working them loose over the last few days. Testing their strength he pulled as hard as he could, feeling the rough edge slice against his rubbed raw wrist until with a dull snap the leather fell to the floor. Eyes widening in surprise he wasted no time in bending over to unbuckle his legs and ankles , nearly face planting in his haste to stand. Taking a steadying breath he shuffled slowly to the door and squeezed through the crack, seeing his captor with his back towards him. Easy then, get whoever was in the other room, overtake the wiry man and steal his phone, call the police and get rescued.

Nodding through his doubt and fear he made his way slowly to another door, inching it open and slipping inside. Letting out a breath he turned around and froze, recognizing his husband's thin frame under the mess he had become. His purple hair was matted and plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood alike, his nose an indecipherable blood clot splattered against his face. His whole frame shook with pain as Logan took in the numerous open wounds dripping with blood and pus alike, fingers twisted at odd angles and twitching uselessly against the arms of the chair he was tied to. Haunted eyes darted to his fearfully as he drew a ragged breath through his ruined mouth, moaning with an urgency Logan barely understood.

"Virgil?"

"Lo-"

He didn't even hear his full name before the floor creaked behind him, bladder releasing in fear and adrenaline making him stumble with the intensity. He was seized by the throat before he could make a sound, vision swimming as the man's intense gaze filled his vision.

"And just where did you think you were going?"

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

The thick chains ground into his wrist bones painfully while his head lolled from side to side. Wrong. Everything was wrong. He didn't know anything, he didn't feel anything. Virgil's screams had gone quiet hours ago leaving a dull ache in his tired chest. His feet had lost feeling ages ago as his broken ankles swelled beyond his bonds. At least he didn't have to pee anymore. He didn't feel like he had to do much of anything anymore.

He barely twitched as the door opened. He was so, so tired. He had fallen asleep and woken up so many times since his escape attempt he couldn't guess how long he had been here if his brain wasn't already mush. All the facts he felt so accomplished in knowing and studying were wrong. All wrong. Details mixed up and spit out with enough inaccuracies to make him cry if he wasn't so dehydrated. Memories of Virgil and Roman skewed and rotted with the last of his concious thoughts. His husband's smile had forever been replaced by the bloodied face he had seen desperately trying to warn him of his stupidity, and now he had ruined their one chance at escape.

Moaning softly as his chin was pulled down he locked eyes with his captor, who smirked and nodded, holding out his phone. He noticed the call screen running and figured he must be on speaker. What was he meant to do now? Spout off more things that would be proven false with a backhanded slap or a hard punch to the gut?

"The password to your family safe. What is it?"

Somewhere, deep in Logan's subconscious his alarm bells were ringing. He had been beaten, starved and manipulated for days for just this moment, when all his walls were down and he doubted every word that left his mouth. Something wasn't right, the family safe where all their papers were, all their shared stocks and living wills and something else. Something important that he was sure he was forgetting. The thought was gone as soon as it entered as he groggily slurred out some combination of numbers towards the microphone.

His chin was freed as some form of confirmation was given on the other end. His cheek was patted softly, the gentlest he had been touched in so long it made tears prick his eyes. The man hung up and turned to dig through his bag, pulling out a full syringe and uncapping it as Logan watched in confusion, flicking out the air bubbles and turning back towards him.

"Shame my client didn't just recieve the inheritance in the first place, would've been much less painful for you." It clicked then that that was the important thing. The trust fund and pooled inheritance from Virgil's family they had stored away for Roman's future. The last thing that would be left to him if they didn't make it out alive. And he had just given it over to God only knows who.

"Wha-"

"Lethal injection. A mercy really, I have no more need of you and neither does my client. It'll be quick I promise. Just like ripping off a bandaid."

Logans mind connected the dots slowly as the man came towards him, and adrenaline shot through him one last time as he began to panic. Nonononononono! He had to get out! He had to get Virgil, find Roman; he needed them safe! The syringe came closer and closer as if in slow motion and in one last desperate attempt to survive he bucked up violently with everything he had. His ankles protested heavily making him scream in pain and tip his chair back, knocking the needle away and making him fall heavily to the side. As he blinked back the tears he heard a gasp and looked over at the man's shocked expression, moving his eyes down to his thigh where the syringe was now fully dispensed and sticking out of. Too late his abuser snatched it out, breathing heavily as he turned towards Logan.

"What have you done?" He turned and stumbled slightly, falling to his knees and crawling to the door clawing desperately at the handle as his strength seemed to leave him, breathing growing more and more labored until he slumped over limply, the erratic rise and fall of his chest stilling completely after only a minute.

For a moment Logan allowed himself to feel triumphant. He had survived! He had won and now he could- he jingled the thick chains uselessly around his wrists, ankles screaming in pain and head pounding from his fall. Looking over frantically at the body by the door his mouth opened and shut several times, low croaks the only sound working past dry lips. He couldn't get free and Virgil- he was trapped across the hall dying slowly, alone, all because of him. His captor was dead and Virgil was dying and Logan was dying and all he could do was bang his head against the floor uselessly as sobs wracked his frail body.

"Wake up!" He whispered uselessly. "WAKE UP!"

His dry vocal chords felt as if they were ripping apart as he screamed and cried to no avail in his sound proofed prison. They were all dead. And no one was coming.

As he grew weaker his sobs quieted enough for him to faintly hear the sound of someone crying in the other room. His heart broke as he thought of Virgil alone and terrified and hurting, thoughts mixing up and blurring the body in front of him until it more resembled his husband's. He missed him so much. He missed his home. He missed his son. He wished, above all else he could hear their voices one last time. As his eyes slowly shut the crying grew more familiar, sinking him into a dream of what once was, monsters no more real than the ones children ran from under beds. He smiled faintly as he thought back to the simple time, hearing Roman's shout of fear and knowing he'd be able to fix it with a kiss and a cuddle.

"Daddy!"

#false writes #sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #kid roman #bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo #bthb #tw violence #tw minor character death #tw blood #tw torture #tw broken bones #tw caps lock #tw crying #analogical #virgil x logan

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bethagain · 4 years ago

Text

Mandalorian Fic WIP

(AKA, Din Djarin learns about baby-wearing)

So a few days back I started another fic for The Mandalorian. It’s a Western. A new side quest in between canon, early-ish in Season 2.

This morning I found myself thinking, how would Din manage Baby Yoda while on horseback?

And then I found myself googling baby-wearing and, well, it was all downhill from there.

I’m sharing this section of the WIP because I think it’s really darn cute and maybe you will too! Also maybe this will help get it the heck out of my head so I can get some (non-fic) work done.

The scene: A mountainside, alternating forest and flower-filled meadow. Din and child are there for Reasons and have accidentally fallen in with a local tribe, who are bringing the mogos (basically Star Wars cows) in from summer pasture. Of course, the tribe has a Reason of their own why they need a Mandalorian’s help. An orynk, btw, looks kind of like an antelope, with sharp, front-facing horns you wouldn’t want to get in the way of.

The orynk’s stride has enough of a bounce that the carry bag swings and knocks against Din’s hip. Little noises from inside let him know the child isn't happy.

He tries shifting the bag but there’s no position that keeps his hands and arms free but doesn’t knock the child about. Finally, he lifts him from the bag and sets him down at the front of the saddle, between his own legs. The child immediately quiets. Tiny hands grip the pommel and big curious eyes take in the shapes of the other orynks and their riders.

“You have to hold on,” Din says, a little later. The child is yawning now, eyes closing, hands slipping from the pommel. The busy night is catching up with him.

Din shifts the reins to one hand, the other supporting the little body to keep it upright, giving it a gentle shake. “C’mon, kid. We still have a long way to go.”

The orynk, sensing the change in pressure on the reins, sidesteps uneasily and the child begins to slide to one side of the saddle. Din shifts his weight, moving one leg to catch the child against his thigh. It confuses the animal further. The spindly legs dance a bit as the orynk stops walking and then starts again. The child, half asleep and jostled by the sudden movements, slips toward the other side and Din drops the reins to catch him.

The orynk comes to a full stop and stands there, waiting for instructions, as the other riders move on ahead.

“Need some help?” Javi’s orynk steps neatly up beside them.

“The child needs to nap. We could stop here and follow you later.”

“Why don’t you tie him up?”

“What?”

Javi’s orynk fidgets, its narrow head turning toward the other riders getting further ahead. Javi shifts his hands on the reins and the animal calms. He gives a loud whistle, a three note tone. The nearest rider looks back and raises a hand in acknowledgement before continuing on. “Put him on your back so you’ll have your hands free?”

Din nods toward the remains of his pack, which is tied to another orynk far up ahead. “I don’t have the tools to fix his carrier.”

“That cape doing you any other good right now?”

The cape hides the jetpack when he’s wearing it--and hides the fact that he isn’t, when he’s not. It feels like a lot to explain.

Javi reaches out and picks up the reins of Din's mount. “Jump down. I’ll show you.”

***

Javi takes the bunched fabric from Din's hands and slides his fingers along it, feeling the weave, then nods. “Sit him at your hip.”

He usually carries the child in the crook of one arm. He’s seen women balance babies on their hips, but they don’t have beskar hip plates in the way. It’s awkward. The child gazes up at him sleepily, little forehead furrowed as if to say, Now what?

Din can see that Javi is trying not to smile. With a sigh, he follows the next direction, sliding the child around to his back and bending at the waist so the little one is less likely to fall.

He has to consciously stop muscle memory from kicking in when Javi approaches him with the cape unfolded. The natural thing to do when there’s a sudden movement is to strike before the other person does. But here he is with this tiny being resting on his body, one hand still supporting him there, and no option that wouldn’t bring the rest of the tribe riding back with weapons drawn. He reminds himself to breathe.

Reluctantly he lets his arm drop as he feels the other man, standing behind him now, take over to keep the child balanced.

Javi hums softly, then taps on the plate of beskar that guards Din's back. “Let me see that carry-bag.” The bag is still sitting diagonally across Din’s shoulder. He has to shrug his way out of it, sliding the opposite arm through the strap and then ducking his head to lift it over. He can feel the child’s weight shift on his back as Javi helps lift the bag away.

Javi threads the two ends of the cape under Din's arms now, moving around to face him as he does so.

"You can straighten up.

As Din stands fully upright again, Javi pulls from each side and ties a single knot across his breastplate, keeping the cloth taut. He walks around him, winding the ends over Din's shoulders between pauldrons and neck, then across his back and to the front again, finally crossing them at Din’s waist and tying a firm knot. He tucks the ends in so they won’t dangle. Din manages to stay still as Javi’s hands brush over the grenades tucked into his belt and pass within a few centimeters of the holstered blaster.

“Give a jump,” Javi says, stepping back.

Din silently wills the wrist and fingers of his gun hand to let the tension go.

“Go ahead, make sure he’s really on there. Like this.” Javi jumps up and down a few times, turning his torso as he does.

Din slides a hand around to his own back again, reaching up toward his shoulder blades. The child is a little bundle, backside supported by the cloth and body snuggled tight against the plate of beskar. Or, not directly against it. He can feel the carry-bag, doubled over, padding the armor so the child has a soft place to rest. He gives a tentative jump, his hand still supporting the child. The bundle doesn’t budge. He jumps a little harder. The child lets out a surprised, sleepy peep but stays snug against him.

Javi nods, satisfied. “Bet you he’ll sleep all the way to the village now. Ready to catch up?”

#the mandalorian #fanfic #wip #baby-wearing #din djarin #baby yoda #(we are not putting baby's name here b/c spoilers)#noromo mando

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oliviaischillin1204 · 5 years ago

Text

i can’t hear you

Pairings: Platonic Analogical

Word Count: 1,994 words

i had my first training course for my new job today and i spent about an hour writing this wip in my head instead. anyways smash that mf like button

also maybe warning for more intense tickles toward the end? i don’t really think it’s that bad tbh but if you have super ticklish feet u may wanna proceed w caution

It was a game they played. Logan knew that. He knew all of the signs: Virgil coming into his room late at night, his headphones casually slung around his neck. He’d sit on the end of Logan’s bed awhile, looking around the organized yet cluttered room. Logan would acknowledge his presence, but would keep his attention on whatever book he was reading that night. The room would fall silent, and then Virgil-- amazing Virgil, evil Virgil-- would put on his headphones.

That was how the game always started. Logan knew that. But it still didn’t make the fluttering feeling in his stomach go away.

He huffed a sigh, a small smile already curling on his lips. Virgil didn’t respond or even react: his attention was (allegedly) completely on his phone as he scrolled through his Spotify. Logan watched him in anticipation for a few seconds before slowly marking his page and setting the book on his bedside table, folding his hands in his lap.

As soon as he did that-- as if Virgil has been waiting for him-- the anxious side made a satisfied noise as he selected a playlist. He tapped play and set his phone to the side, and spent the next minute or so merely bopping his head to the music. His fingers would tap little rhythms on his thighs, then on the mattress, then on the top of Logan’s ankles. It was just enough to make the logical side squirm, watching the gradual movements with a building wariness.

Without warning, Virgil wrapped an arm around both of Logan’s ankles, hiking them up so he could hold them between his arm and his torso. The sudden motion yanked Logan down the bed.

“Oh goodness--!”

The exclamation slipped out before Logan could stop it, and he’s sure Virgil would be laughing at him if he heard it. Luckily for Logan, there was no way Virgil could hear him over the music in his headphones; it was so loud, Logan could hear its tinny sound in the otherwise silent room.

Well. Relatively silent. Because as soon as Virgil got Logan’s legs firmly trapped under his arm, his nails began dancing against the balls of his feet, and Logan fell into startled giggles.

“Nohoho,” he mumbled through his laughter, dropping his face into his hands. His feet twitched involuntarily, but other than that he made no move to pull away from Virgil’s tickling fingers. That was how the game went.

Virgil slowly slid his fingers down Logan’s soles until they were toying at his arches, easily reaching both feet at once with his one free hand. He glided his nails down the wrinkles and lines of Logan’s feet, causing him to curl his toes with a strangled whimper.

“Please,” Logan started to beg before stopping himself. One of the worst (read: best) parts of the game for him was the total silence his reactions were met with. Virgil was blissfully unaware of the noises Logan made when they played this game. But Logan knew. Every squeak, squeal, titter, and giggle that escaped his lips seemed to echo around his room before being thrown right back into his face. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ashamed of his laughter; it was really just the knowledge that Virgil was completely taking him apart without even listening to his pleas for mercy, leaving him to fall into helpless laughter in isolation, that Logan found so utterly embarrassing. And so utterly delightful.

Meanwhile, Virgil seemingly decided that he’d paid enough attention to Logan’s arches, because his fingers suddenly switched positions, choosing instead to scritch-scratch right against Logan’s heels. Logan yelped at the unexpected change, and to his distress a stray snort or two began escaping in his laughter. He hid his face in his hands again, somewhat grateful that Virgil hadn’t heard those particular noises. The taunting that would’ve resulted from them would almost be unbearable.

Virgil began humming along with his music, some nonsense tune that Logan couldn’t identify when he was so throughly distracted, but in his hypersensitive state the wordless melody began to sound like a tease itself, the rise and fall of Virgil’s voice as his fingers expertly circled and skittered all over his heels causing even more butterflies to flutter around in Logan’s stomach.

He wasn’t expecting for Virgil to suddenly jab his thumb into the middle of his sole, throughly massaging the sensitive spot while his other four fingers still managed to mercilessly attack his heels. Logan gasped, snorted, and broke into louder laughter in rapid succession, and his arms wrapped around his torso as he upgraded from giggles to full on cackles.

Virgil went back and forth for a while, choosing seemingly random (yet completely evil) spots to torture with harder tickles while the surrounding skin got gentle, teasy tickles. Logan took deep breaths to avoid getting the hiccups (like last time-- Virgil had laughed himself to tears when Logan couldn’t stop even after the game was finished), but all he succeeded in was making his laughter louder and louder.

Then Virgil abruptly stopped the hard tickles. Logan, foolishly, felt grateful for about half a second, until he felt Virgil begin to spider his nails back up his soles. Towards the balls of his feet. Towards--

“Ah-hahahahaha! Virgihihil!”

The words came out traitorously high pitched, almost a squeal, and he felt his face flush hot at the sound of his panicked voice against the soft quiet of his bedroom.

To his surprise, Virgil froze for a moment, his fingers resting right underneath Logan’s deathspot. Logan watched his back in a mix of confusion and sheepishness-- he didn’t want the game to end already, but he certainly didn’t want to say that.

Virgil didn’t turn around, though, and he didn’t let go of Logan’s feet. Instead, Logan watched with a growing nervousness as Virgil’s free arm moved to the side, picked up his phone, and quickly hit the volume button several times. The barely-audible music from his headphones grew louder, and he dropped the phone back on the bed with a satisfied nod before turning all of his attention back to Logan’s feet.

Logan blanched, especially when Virgil’s fingers started moving again, skittering back and forth across the balls of his feet, but with a greater intention. Like he was purposefully building up to something. Logan’s stomach swooped.

“Virgihihil--”

No response.

“Virgil, wahahahahait!”

Nothing. In fact, Logan thought Virgil might’ve picked up the pace, darting from spot to spot and giving little pinches to the soft skin. Each touch had Logan jumping, shocked noises escaping among his growing giggles.

“No, nohoho-- not there! Wait--!”

Virgil didn’t wait. His fingers shot down to spider at his arches once more, before they began slowly making their way up, up, up.

“Vihi-- Virgil, Virgil, noho--”

Logan was red faced and teary eyed and grinning so wide he felt like his face would split. And Virgil wasn’t stopping.

“No!”

But Virgil did not hear him, and finally, his fingers dove in to scratch and squeeze and tickle in between every single one of Logan’s ticklish, helpless toes.

Logan bucked and screamed, his hands tangling in his bedsheets as he finally fought to pull his legs back. His head kept alternating between falling back to his headboard and falling forward as he curled in on himself, but neither position gained him any relief. He just had to sit there, feet utterly trapped and pleas completely ignored, as Virgil tickled underneath all ten of his ticklish little toes.

He tried to look for a pattern, anything that would lessen the horrible unpredictability of the tortorous sensations, but Virgil didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to his tickles. A pinch at his pinky toe, then his nails would spider across all of his toe pads before coming to rest at the middle toe of his other foot, scratching up and down the stem before poking his way back to the other side. All of his toe tickles were interspersed with quick, random tickles to the balls of Logan’s feet, keeping him frantically guessing when the tickles would switch between very bad to even worse.

To say Logan was loosing his composure was an understatement. He wheezed with laughter when the nail of Virgil’s index finger throughly attacked the spot right underneath his big toe, or when his thumb suddenly corkscrewed in between his pinky and ring toes. He bounced on the bed, his hands desperately clawing at the bed sheets and at the hem of his shirt and at his hair, anything to distract himself from the awful ticklish torture he was suffering on his feet.

At one point Virgil hit a certain spot on the ball of his foot, and Logan cried out in ticklish ecstasy, yanking his foot back as hard as he could. It went nowhere, of course, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Because Virgil, to Logan’s horror, suddenly grabbed both of his big toes, pulling them back and stretching out his entire foot.

Logan gasped. He gave an experimental wiggle, only to find that he could not only not move his feet, but he could no longer curl any of his toes at all. Their precious, sensitive undersides were exposed to the entire world-- and more importantly, to Virgil.

The next second felt like it happened in slow motion: Logan’s eyes darted from his feet to Virgil’s index finger, which wiggled menancingly in the air inches from hit feet. He screamed wordlessly, desperate babbles as he continued to yank against Virgil’s hold, but in the end, there was absolutely nothing he could do to keep Virgil from tickling that one spot, right at the bottom of the space between Logan’s first and second toe, scratching his nail with a nightmarish precision at Logan’s absolute death spot.

It was game over.

Logan shrieked, a sharp, piercing sound that he would absolutely go to his grave before admitting he made. He launched forward, clutching the back of Virgil’s hoodie and yanking on it for dear life.

“Stohoh-- stohohop--!”

Virgil let go of his legs before the word was even fully out of his mouth. He scooted to the side, watching over his shoulder as Logan immediately pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his toes as soon as his hands could reach them.

Virgil caught Logan’s gaze, still gasping and laughing with residual tickles, and let a small smile creep onto his own face. He reached to his phone and stopped the music, pulling the headphones off to rest around his neck again.

“Oh, Logan, were you back there the whole time?” he asked innocently. “Sorry, I was distracted. Music, you know.”

Logan huffed, flustered and frazzled, his legs still pulled defensively against his chest.

“Distracted,” he spat, but the wobbly smile on his blushing face took any poison out of the words. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a more genuine smile now, summoning a bottle of water and passing it up the bed to the exhausted side. He grabbed his phone and shifted himself backwards until he was sitting next to Logan at the head of his bed. As Logan caught his breath, he unplugged his large headphones and swapped them for a pair of sleek, black earbuds.

“I found this creepy-ass true crime book,” he said casually, eyes on his phone once again as he scrolled through his library. He popped one earbud into his ear before wordlessly offering the other to Logan.

Logan eyed it for less than a second before he laughed lightly, shaking his head in wonder.

“Sounds very interesting,” he replied, taking the other and putting it in his ear. As the two leaned back to listen to the book, he let his eyes slip closed. All in all, even though it was flustering and embarrassing and overall torturous, Logan could never hate this game that he and Virgil play-- especially when it always manages to end like this.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #ler!virgil #lee!logan #i can't hear you #sanders sides tickling #i did this in maybe uhhh 3-4 hours? idk that should give y'all an estimate of how fast i can work when i have no other distractions #ok actually it's prob more like 4-5 lmaoo i forgot i was watching youtube for a while #as always roast my typos

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cake-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Compromise (Part One)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

I really don’t need to be working on yet another WIP but here I am, like a clown!

It all started with some of the best sex you’d ever had in your life. You know the kind: rough and desperate. Needy. Passionate. The kind straight out of a romance novel, blazing hot and full of love. The kind that, even four years later, served as inspiration for your fantasies – even if you despised the man responsible.

No, that was a lie. You didn’t despise him. You just wished that you did.

It made your toes curl then, and the memory of it still did, even now. The only difference was that you used a toy. That was all you could do, because in between your job managing a small café and your three-year-old daughter’s care, you had zero time for dating. You were Winnie’s mother and primary caregiver, because of course you were.

Her father was the Winter Soldier, after all.

The two of you split when Winnie was just thirteen months old. Unsurprisingly, the court didn’t give Bucky custody, not when so much of his past was bound by red tape. You knew that it wasn’t his fault, the things he’d done, but you were still surprised he’d gotten anything at all. Not only was Avenging a dangerous line of work, but it was the exact reason why you’d left.

He only got to see her once a month, with supervised visits – visits that were much harder on you than on your daughter, but you put on a brave face just for her. Maybe some small part of it was for yourself, too. You were still in love with him – or with the idea of him, you weren’t sure anymore, but the fact remained that he chose his work over his new family out of some misguided idea of making up for the awful things he’d done.

He chose Steve. He chose Sam. He chose his past over his present.

Not you.

The visits were difficult, but manageable – when he even managed to show up, of course. It was about fifty-fifty whether or not he’d show, usually because of work and he often tried to reschedule last minute, which you eventually started to refuse. You and Winnie had a set schedule, and you’d be damned if you deviated from it because of him and his neverending excuses.

You did try, once. You tried to work with him, tried to empathize – at least until he rescheduled three Saturdays in a row and Winnie’s poor little heart shattered to pieces. She was inconsolable for weeks, and needless to say, you stopped trying after that. He didn’t deserve it, not when he hurt your young daughter so easily.

Your usual meet-up place was the small park near your house. There wasn’t much else around, anyway, not like inner city Manhattan which you so desperately missed. You couldn’t afford to live there on your meagre barista salary, so you moved shortly after your trainwreck of a break-up. Moving caused an even bigger rift between you and Bucky, one only worsened by heated arguments and nasty words.

Upstate was where you moved, about three hours away from the city.

Upstate was where Bucky was living now, too, about fifteen minutes from your home.

He broke the news during an impromptu lunchtime visit to your café, one you especially did not appreciate due to the fact that he’d shown up at your workplace. It was almost like he’d known you wouldn’t be able to leave, as you so often did when he tried to talk to you about anything. You always put on a smile for your daughter when you dealt with him, but she wasn’t here and you had no reason to be nice.

The mug in front of you sat untouched as you stared down at the coffee within, delicate latte art slowly melting away while you processed what he’d just said. He was going to be just a few miles down the road at the new Avengers facility, and though he didn’t say it outright, the implication was enough: he could come here anytime he wanted to; could pick Winnie up from preschool anytime he wanted to; could see her anytime he wanted to, court order be damned.

You’d been reduced to nothing more than a barrier keeping him away from his daughter – your daughter – and it stung. Then again, that was what you’d become. That was what you’d been forced to become, because of him.

A barrier.

A bitch.

“I want to see her more,” he told you, but his cordial tone did nothing to hide the thinly-veiled threat. “It’s been years since the last agreement. Things are different now.”

Don’t make me get a lawyer was what he meant.

What’s worse was that you knew he was right. He’d been cleared of all charges, and although his work wasn’t exactly ideal for childrearing, he earned much more money than you did. Not only that, but with the compound right down the road, there was no way he’d be denied this time. If the two of you went back to court, he’d get joint custody. Fifty-fifty. Equal. You knew it, and he did, too. He was forcing your hand.

“You barely make it to your monthly visits as it is,” you responded evenly, though inside you were about ready to scream. “How are things different, Bucky?”

“I’m close by. We’re training more Avengers, so my hours are flexible. I’ve already talked to Steve.”

Why couldn’t he have talked to Steve two years ago?

“I can show you around the compound, if that’s what you want. It’s better than the tower.”

You remembered the tower. You hated the tower. It was no place to raise a child, what with all the missions and the parties and the late-night take-offs which constantly woke Winnie from her sleep. The one good thing it had going for it was the security.

Somehow, he’d remembered your gripes. You couldn’t decide if you should be flattered or not.

“I’ve even got a spare bedroom for her now, sweetheart. Can’t we make this work?”

“Don’t call me that,” you finally snapped, to which Bucky held his hands up in a show of surrender. He didn’t offer an apology, but then again, you didn’t want one. You didn’t want any of this.

Except maybe you did.

You chewed your lower lip, coffee now long forgotten in favour of worrying about the future. You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, he broke your heart just a little more.

Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father.

You’d always wanted that.

And if you didn’t, then the next step would be a lawyer. You didn’t have the time or the money for another custody battle, whereas Bucky had plenty of both and he certainly had no qualms about going down that route. This visit was just a last-ditch effort before he did.

“Fine,” you acquiesced through grit teeth, “but I want to see it first.”

“Yeah?” he asked, blue eyes wide with surprise.

For a moment, you were rendered speechless. God, you hadn’t seen him look at you like that in years. The last time probably would have been when you told him that you were pregnant with Winnie.

Even now, you were still so weak for him. You always managed to stay strong for your daughter, but never for yourself. You missed him, and, well, it wasn’t like you had a choice in the matter either way.

“Yeah,” you repeated, reluctant and hollow.

That weekend, you found yourself staring up at the gates to the compound in awe through the windshield of your small beater. The compound was indeed much larger than the tower had been; you couldn’t see much from the road, but there was plenty of acreage. Plenty of room for Winnie to run around and play, almost, if it wasn’t practically a military base.

When you pushed a button, the CCTV camera came to life, whirring as it likely zoomed in your faces through the side windows of your car. “Ma’am, this is the Avengers Facility. You might have the wrong—”

You abruptly interrupted him with your name, followed by, “And this is Winnifred Barnes. B-A-R-N-E-S.”

There was a long pause, then, as the guy on the other end seemed to realize who you were. Then he had an immediate change of tone. “Oh, that’s— that’s today! Right! I’m so sorry, ma’am!”

Ugh. You weren’t old enough to be a ‘ma’am.’

Were you?

After the gate started to open, you slowly made your way up the long driveway, humming quietly to yourself to calm your nerves. That was when Winnie started to sing along with you, the same off-key tune that the two of you often sang together in the bathtub. She’d never been a fan of baths, so you used the song as a distraction. Now it was supposed to be your distraction, but it didn’t work very well.

You parked next to a small fleet of shiny black cars with tinted windows, feeling just as out of place now as you did when you and Bucky were dating. You’d always made coffee for a living, while he was… him. How you even managed to make it work for nearly two years was beyond you, as brief and fleeting as your whirlwind romance had been.

“Is Daddy here?” Winnie asked excitedly, peering out the windows at the large complex of buildings. Her breath fogged up the glass and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Yes, baby,” you told her as you got out of the car and slung your purse over one shoulder, before you opened her car door. “Daddy’s here. We’ll see him soon.”

She bounced happily as you unbuckled her from her car seat, and then you hoisted her up onto one hip and shut the door with your free hand. After that, you slowly made your way up the steps to what you assumed was the main building.

Christ, this place was massive.

Just before you got to the top, the glass double doors up ahead were shoved open and there was Bucky in all his glory – tall and muscular, just like always, albeit almost out of breath. His hair was pulled back into a loose, messy bun, strands of hair framing his face in the familiar way you’d always loved, and the stubble on his face nearly made you swoon.

You hated that you were still attracted to him.

“Sorry, we’re a little early,” you admitted, nodding to your daughter. “Someone wanted to see you.”

As if on cue, Winnie shouted, “Daddy!” and reached out for him with her little arms, making grabby hands in his direction. She was so eager that you might have dropped her once, but you were used to her excitement.

Bucky met your eyes for a moment with a note of appreciation before he turned to her. Then and only then did the corners of his eyes crinkle up in a genuine smile – one directed at your daughter, not at you, one not meant to keep up a charade like the two of you were wont to do. That was the only type of smile he offered you, and that hurt, too.

“How’s my best girl?” he cooed, peppering her face with noisy kisses.

She giggled and half-heartedly tried to push him away. “Daddy, no! It’s scratchy!”

At that, he just rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers some more, lightly, not enough to hurt, and she squealed. He slid his hands under her arms with ease before he lifted her up and away from you, and although you knew he wasn’t being malicious, you always hated giving her up.

She just slung her tiny arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. It had been awhile since she’d seen him – probably about two months, now, and you didn’t blame her. You’d missed him, too.

“How was the drive?” he asked you, holding Winnie against his side as the three of you made your way inside. With his free hand, he held open the glass door for you.

“It was a whole twelve minutes,” you responded dryly, more joking than not. Twelve minutes was much better than the nearly three-hour commute from when he was living in the city; not that you had to make it very often, as it was usually his responsibility. “Not too bad. Thanks.”

You weren’t really sure what you were thanking him for. The door, maybe.

Bucky paused to study your face for a moment, hesitant, before he quickly lifted Winnie up onto his shoulders, adorable peals of laughter escaping her. The ceilings were tall enough to offer plenty of leeway, and she’d always enjoyed being able to see things from such a high vantage point, especially someplace new like this.

“I bet Auntie Nat will be so happy to see you, sweetpea,” you told her, more to fill the silence than anything else. Bucky sure looked like he wanted to say something to you. He had that same reluctant expression on his face, the very one that creased his brows and made your anxiety skyrocket.

Thankfully, he seemed to understand that you weren’t willing to discuss whatever it was yet, and instead chimed in, “She’s waiting for us upstairs, princess. Do you wanna go see her?”

“Yeah!” Winnie sounded incredibly chipper as she gripped two handfuls of Bucky’s hair in her small fists, almost like the reigns to a horse. “Let’s go!”

You stifled a laugh as she half-directed him where to go. The stairs were steeper than you anticipated, and by the time you reached the next floor, you were well and truly winded. The second flight was even worse; they were both already at the top by the time you got halfway there, because Bucky took them two or three at a time.

“Come on, Mommy!” Winnie cheered.

“I’m coming, baby,” you called out, holding onto the handrail for dear life. That wasn’t an exaggeration.

One step, two, then three and you finally made it there. It wasn’t that you were out of shape, exactly – except, well, you were. You’d never completely lost the extra weight that came along with having a child, and you definitely didn’t have the time to work out with all of your other responsibilities as much as you would have liked to.

Bucky’s eyes were soft on yours when you glanced over at him, to which you huffed and quickly looked away. Knowing he’d seen how out of shape you were was embarrassing enough.

“Where’s Auntie Nat?” Winnie asked, then, and you were never more grateful to her for it.

“She’s making lunch for us,” Bucky told her, gently placing a hand on your lower back to guide you in the right direction. When you froze up at the unexpected contact, he immediately pulled it away, like he’d only just realized what he’d done.

If your heart wasn’t already racing, it certainly would have been after that.

“How’s that sound, Win? Are you hungry?” you asked as the three of you walked into the large kitchen and living area. The open floor plan was full of expensive things you’d only ever dreamt of, no doubt courtesy of Tony.

“Yeah!” she responded happily, which soon became an excited shriek when she spotted Natasha spreading peanut butter onto a few slices of bread. On the marble countertop in front of her was also a jar of strawberry jam, Winnie’s favourite.

“Hi Winnie,” Natasha greeted. “Guess what I’m making?”

“Peanut butter jellies!” Winnie exclaimed, wiggling a little, clearly ready to get off of Bucky’s shoulders to properly say hi to Natasha. Predictably, he plopped her onto the floor with ease, and she did just that. The sound of her scampering across the unfamiliar tile brought a smile to your face. It almost sounded like home.

Natasha kept her entertained while you and Bucky watched in tense, uncomfortable silence. If nothing else, you were glad that Winnie was able to spend some time with her two favourite people. You, of course, weren’t one of them. You weren’t the fun parent. Bucky was.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said, then, softly enough that Winnie couldn’t hear.

You didn’t look at him, instead focusing on what was on the other side of the room: the two black leather sofas surrounding a large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, with a lavish coffee table in front. All you noticed were the sharp corners and invisible price tags. You weren’t broke, exactly, but all of this was much nicer than you could afford.

“Don’t be,” you replied with a shrug. “She’d be over the moon if we had such a big TV at home.”

“I’m happy to give you more,” Bucky said, crossing his arms. “Why am I not surprised you’re still driving that car?”

At that, you shot him a look that clearly conveyed your displeasure, to which he met your eyes in challenge.

You didn’t want more money from him. You only accepted the bare minimum of child support because it was court-ordered, and even that was a blow to your pride. You and Winnie were managing just fine without the ridiculous sum of money that Bucky made whilst working with the Avengers.

“It still runs. Why would I get rid of it?”

“It’s not as safe as the newer models,” Bucky responded far too evenly for your liking. “You know that. Are you really going to let your pride get in the way of our daughter’s safety?”

“She’s fine,” you hissed. “Are you really going to do this right now?”

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” came your sweet little girl’s voice, then, and your bristly demeanour disappeared in an instant. You always did your best not to argue with Bucky in front of her, but every now and then he just had to push your buttons. This was one of those times.

“Nothing, honey,” you said with faux cheerfulness, walking over to the counter where she was now seated, jam smeared all over her cheeks and chin. “Mommy’s just hungry, that’s all. Can I please have a bite?”

Winnie just beamed and held out one half of her sandwich to you. That was when you noticed that Natasha had lovingly cut it into triangles, just as she always did, and your smile suddenly felt more real than it had in days.

After you took a bite, you brushed Winnie’s soft brown locks away from her forehead and left a kiss there. “Thank you. Now be a good girl for Auntie Nat, okay? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she said so sweetly, you couldn’t help but give her another kiss. Then you shared a warning look with Natasha – almost as if to say keep her out of this – before you walked back over to Bucky.

Together, the two of you went back out into the hallway to finish the argument he started. You were already ready to rip his head off after his unexpected visit-slash-threat earlier in the week, not to mention the snide comment he’d just made about your ability to parent.

The moment the door shut behind you, you were in full attack mode, zero to sixty in no time whatsoever. “Damn it, how many times do I have to tell you not to pick a fight in front of her?”

“Well, maybe if you were more reasonable—”

“More reasonable? Maybe if you made an effort to actually show up every once in a while—”

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do here, sweetheart? She’s three and I’ve barely seen her!”

“And whose fault is that?” you spat, jabbing your finger into his chest for emphasis, “You’re the one who’s always working, Bucky! You know how excited she gets, and whenever you let her down, I’m the one who has to try and make her feel better! I’m the one making promises you can’t keep!”

Bucky exhaled slowly, then, in a clear attempt to calm down. The two of you never used to fight like this, but ever since you moved away, things had been beyond tense and you’d long since been forced to recognize when he really was trying to control his temper.

Of course, things weren’t always so bad. There were days where both of you were at least somewhat amicable towards each other, maybe even friendly. In fact, this one seemed like it might have been heading in that direction – in the beginning, at least.

Then he finally spoke again, tone clipped, “Let me show you her room.”

Yeah, like seeing whatever he had in store would suddenly make you forget the last three years.

“Fine.”

Bucky led the way down a winding corridor on the same floor as the communal kitchen. You guessed that each floor probably had its own. The building itself was large and expensive as hell, more than anything you’d ever be able to afford. Just being here almost felt like a privilege.

You hated it. What you hated more was that you liked it. For Winnie, anyway. She deserved the world.

The door to Bucky’s apartment opened with a fingerprint scan, because of course it did. The technology reminded you of your shared suite in the tower once upon a time.

The apartment wasn’t anything impressive, more of a bachelor pad than anything, but at least it was clean. A grey suede sofa was the focal point, across from another large TV. Boys and their toys, you supposed. At least the coffee table in here had no sharp edges.

On the other side there was a small kitchenette – big enough for one person, but not necessarily two. Then again, Winnie didn’t eat nearly as much as an adult so that wasn’t really a problem.

Down the hallway, you spotted three doors: one on the left, one on the right, and one at the end. Bathroom, spare room, and his room. At least, that was what you assumed.

You were right.

The second you opened the door to the spare bedroom, your breath hitched in your throat. It wasn’t overly pink or girly like Winnie’s room at home, but you could immediately picture her living here. Not all of the time, because you did still want primary custody, but it was evident that Bucky had put a lot of thought and effort into this.

There was a twin bed up against one of the walls, with a small guardrail to prevent her from rolling onto the floor – just like at home, where she’d only recently moved into a big girl bed. The sheets were a delicate lavender, and the duvet matched perfectly, white and purple gingham print. At the foot of the bed was a grey fleece blanket, which you absentmindedly brushed your fingers against as you took everything in.

In one of the corners was a small white desk and chair, and on top of it was a stack of children’s books. She hadn’t yet learned how to read, not really, but she loved being read to at bedtime. As you skimmed through the stack, you noticed that a lot of the books were her favourites.

Then you spotted the stuffed animals.

There were a bunch of them, with tags in an assortment of languages. You didn’t even have to look to know that they were from different countries. Bucky must have been saving them for a while. He already knew you had too many at your house as it was; you’d ripped him a new one for it once already, because he liked to bring Winnie one whenever he got back from a mission. You had so many now that they covered her bed, and then some.

He still was picking them up on his missions, it looked like. He just hadn’t given them to her yet.

When you turned back to him, you found him leaning against the doorframe with a hopeful look on his face.

“How long—” Your voice broke, then, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to sound like you weren’t about to cry. It didn’t work. “How long have you been collecting these?”

“Over a year,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he nodded to the room itself. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. That didn’t work either.

“Oh, Bucky,” you sniffled. “She’ll love it.”

He hesitantly pushed off the doorframe when he noticed you were upset. “Are you crying?”

“No,” you blubbered, burying your teary face in your hands before he could get a good look.

Bucky wanted to be there for your daughter. At last.

You were beyond touched by all the work that had gone into this, and although you weren’t happy about his unspoken threat of legal action, you could finally see why. He cared about her. He cared about her just as much as you did. He just didn’t show it as well.

The way Bucky wrapped his arms around you was gentle, unsure, but when you leaned into him his hold on you tightened just a little. It had been far too long since you’d been held, for one, and for two, god it felt good to be held by him. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be in his arms.

You’d missed it – missed him.

That might have been why you finally managed to swallow your pride and ask, muffled and teary, “What car has the best safety features?”

When he pulled away just enough to look at you, he gave you a smile, the same kind where his eyes crinkled at the corners.

It was genuine.

Part Two / Master List

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #compromise

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