#she got 3 chances from me the first time I tried a portion of her chat was backseating telling her character to have sex with a cop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astaroth1357 · 3 years ago

Text

How Often They Worry about MC…

For those who don’t know, I have a little dog named Charlie and she is a large portion of my world. There's no need to be alarmed, my dog is fine, but there are days where I hold her and all I can think about is how much I worry about her health down the line… I suppose we often do that for the people we love, particularly the ones who may not last as long as we will. Take that as inspiration if you'd like.

Lucifer

Near constantly.

If you tracked his blood pressure on a grid, you'd see it start to continuously rise about when he decided they were worth having in his life.

Lucifer is the eldest sibling to a whole crew of brothers so he's no stranger to worry. He worried about his brothers when they were young, he worried about them after the Fall, and he still worries about them now (even if he's less open about it).

But a part of him knows that his brothers can handle their own, at least to varying degrees. The MC, though? He's far less sure…

They've proven rather resilient, but also headstrong and reckless. Neither of which are good things to be in a place this dangerous...

If Lucifer isn't careful, he can catch himself staring at a wall or window just wondering where they are and if they're doing alright… If he called them every time he had a passing worry, their inbox would be full by the end each week.

He holds himself back because he doesn't have the time to constantly protect them, but that doesn't stop him from sending a text once or twice a day. They better respond or he'll start (secretly) panicking.

Mammon

He forgets their mortality from time to time, but every time he remembers it hits like a ton of bricks…

Mammon is a pretty "in-the-moment" person. He doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on the future, but whenever he does the thought of losing MC always comes back to him again and again.

Like. It's gotta happen eventually, right? They're human, humans die, hell they don't even live that long to start with!

The MC can always tell when Mammon's getting worried because he'll get uncharacteristically quiet and pace around or hover by them…

Every little injury or strenuous task will suddenly seem like too much to him as well.

If they need to carry some boxes, he'll carry them all.

If they have to jog to class, he's carrying them.

If they so much as get a papercut, he'll have a heart attack.

It's not very hard to get Mammon out of these funks - he really does want them to reassure him that they're okay - but he's never going to get fully over it…

Not until he can steal whatever top secret immortality formula Solomon must have used anyway… He'll get it off that bastard eventually.

Leviathan

Thinks about it so often he has to actively try not to just to get any peace…

He dodges his fears for MC like a protagonist dodges lasting consequences. Every time he feels one creeping up, he's always got a distraction waiting…

"Hey where's MC at? I hope they didn't fall into the riv-OH HEY CHECK OUT THIS NEW GAME!!"

"What are they doing over there…? That looks hard, what if they bre-WAIT DIDN'T MY FAVORITE VOICE ACTOR JUST RELEASE A NEW PODCAST???"

"What if the MC dies tomorrow and they leave me all alo-DEVIL FIGHT 200! YOU CAN'T BEAT DEVIL FIGHT 200, LET’S BREAK MY HIGH SCORE!!"

Cut him some slack, his psyche cannot handle the idea of losing them on top of everything else he grapples with every day.

If, on the rare occasion, he does let himself fall down that rabbit hole he becomes extra clingy and practically begs MC not to leave his room… like ever. He'd bubble wrap them if he could.

Anytime they get really hurt or really sick he refuses to leave their side even if it means he has to awkwardly sit on the floor. He just needs to be able to glance at them every so often to be sure they're alive… Still breathing?? Phew…

Satan

He worries, preps, rationalizes, then worries again…

For Satan, knowledge is power and every scrap of information he can learn about MC is more power he can use to keep them safe and healthy.

Yes, he will want their medical history. Yes, he's going to need a list of prescriptions. Family members too. And no, you do not get a choice.

He'll read up on as many things as he can - pawn medical journals off of witches and get magical alternatives from Solomon.

The cycle usually goes:

1. He's lying awake at night because he just heard about some terrible bacteria that makes human's skin peel off or something.

2. He does all the research he can on this bacteria, its treatment options, best prevention methods, etc.

3. Gets right about to break out the rubber booties for MC to wear around, then realizes they have a very slim chance of catching said bacteria since it's only native to incredibly remote parts of Indonesia.

4. Feels instant relief that MC will probably not catch flesh-eating bacteria and can finally sleep again…

5. Hears of some other human medical horror from Solomon and starts to worry…

It's a vicious cycle indeed… But at least he's getting a lot of medical training. Soon enough he'll be the Devildom's version of a human vet (which I guess is just a doctor, come to think of it. 🤔)

Asmodeus

Lives so "here-and-now" that he doesn't remember often, but when he does it's always heartbreaking…

Asmo usually tries to worry about things as little as possible. It’s bad for the skin, you know? But when the MC is involved, all of that goes out the window.

Like how a delicate blossom eventually wilts in the snow, the MC is bound to leave them in time… Usually there's supposed to be something beautiful in that kind of tragedy, but perhaps he's just too close to them to find any romance in it.

The thought of their death gives him breakouts and anytime they get hurt or sick he's the first brother to offer them comfort. Every time.

Because he doesn't feel like he's as physically strong as he brothers, he tries to make up for it by minding their health in other ways. Anything to keep his MC strong and beautiful as always!

If Asmo is in a worrying mood, then he may also compensate by trying to take the MC out to a party or some fun event. Why sit around worrying by himself when he could be making memories with them now, right?

Beelzebub

It comes in waves, mostly at night.

When your thoughts throughout the day are mostly, "I wish I wasn't so hungry," it doesn't afford you a lot of time to think about much else.

In a way, it's a good thing since he experiences a lot less stress. But those worries are still there and they mostly plague his dreams…

Beel doesn’t feel hungry when he's sleeping, so a lot of his fears will make themselves known overnight. An injured or dying MC is often in his rotation of nightmares though, of course, he'd rather it not be…

After having one of these dreams, his first instinct is to always make sure the MC is okay. If they're with him, he'll hug them and check their heartbeat. If they're somewhere else, he'll go to them or shoot a text.

He has woken up without realizing his nightmare was all a dream though, and usually it's up to Belphie or MC themselves to console him while he cries… It's so heartbreaking, sweet boy just puts a lot of pressure on himself to be sure they're safe…

When he worries, it's like they're the most beautiful and expensive China set in a room full of bulls and hammers. If he could tape them to his side, he probably would. He gets scared for them that much…

Belphegor

More scared about it than anyone else in the House.

Despite his calm demeanor, Belphie is truly afraid of losing his loved ones beneath the surface… He's already lost one of his most dear siblings before, going through that again may just break him.

Unfortunately, he's also felt just how fragile the MC is firsthand... He's not even the strongest of his brothers, yet he was able to snuff them out so easily… Who's to say someone else won't try?

Like Beel, MC's death is a recurring nightmare for him but he can usually shake off his dreams fairly well, if not change them mid-sleep. More scary is when something is actually wrong with them or they're not feeling well.

Belphie always sets his inner laziness aside for the MC when he can. If they get sick, he'll usually be right along with his family to take care of them - even if he has to skip school to do so (not that he cares about class anyway).

When he's worrying about them, he tries to play it off at first, but soon enough they'll notice him acting overly concerned and losing sleep… Best to calm him down before he starts getting cranky.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

2K notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

Text

( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

( PREVIOUS | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

1K notes · View notes

spacedlexi · 2 years ago

Note

i always wondered if you ever read any violentine/twg fanfiction and if you have could you tell us your favorites? Or what tropes would you like to read? Idk I just really like this ship and since there was so little content I could find so i read a lot of shit 💀 but I hold a special care for it since it was one of the first fandoms I entered and finding out Clem was bi meant a lot to me cause you don't see a lot of bi representation that isn't like "I like fucking anything that moves🤩(Yea Im looking at you Elite)”.

So yeah I'd like to hear you thought of fanfiction and stuff.

i tried once or twice but didnt get farther than the first chapter or so on the few i tried 😔 i kinda for the most part stopped reading fic after high school to be fair, so im very particular about what i Do read when it comes to fic now. and on ao3 at least since im afraid of wattpad there really hasnt been anything that held my attention (at least in the past. like i said i havent tried looking in a couple years so who knows). i need plot/character development heavy stuff that i can really sink my teeth into and i didnt really find much of that... and the "tropes" i like are more determined by which characters im applying them to so i dont always like the same ones across the board

someone asked me this question a while ago and i asked for any fic recs at the time but i only got like.. one? im really not sure what the state of twdg fic is like honestly

DESPITE all that tho im still slowly slowly SLOWLY meticulously steadily working on my own oneshot that i WILL FINISH I SWEAR its over 20 pages currently and only like 2/3? done?? and half edited BUT it IS outlined so..... i just have to.. you know..... actually Finish it....

i posted some snippets from it a while ago (HERE) but here's a couple longer ones since ive written about 10 more pages (plus like 5 in outlines) since then. im Really particular about the flow of my writing which is like.. the main reason why i take so long to write.. gotta fix it until it Feels Right

A comfortable silence seemed to settle over them then. The wind outside the shack still blew harshly, whistling against the broken windows. But as the girls sat by the warm glow of the fire, and listened to the crackling of the burning logs, it was enough to melt their tension. At least a bit.

The silence continued until the fire began to dwindle with the last of the logs. "We're going to have to start burning those..." Clementine said as she looked at the loose boards they had kicked aside earlier.

"I got it," Violet said as she stood, not even giving Clementine a chance to move. As she grabbed a board and kicked hard at its center, trying to break it in two, Clementine twisted her mouth. Not at the other girl, but at herself. She was still getting used to her new limitations, and it frustrated her knowing there were just certain things that she couldn't or struggled to do now.

The boards had been sturdy once, but due to age and exposure, they had eroded enough that Violet was able to break them with relative ease. She threw a couple of the pieces on the fire and set the rest by the hearth as she returned to where she had been at Clementine's side. She gave her a soft, reassuring smile as the fire came back to life, and Clementine gave a soft smile in return, breaking her from her thoughts, if only momentarily.

She heaved a sigh as her eyes were drawn back to the missing portion of her left leg. She thought about the trek awaiting them in the morning, and her mouth twisted again. "Ugh, walking through all of that snow is gonna fuck up my leg..."

The soft smile on Violet's face became mischievous. "Don't worry, I can just carry you instead." She said it nonchalantly, but the fluttering in her chest betrayed her.

Clementine quirked her eyebrow in response to the bold statement, smiling skeptically as she laughed "Uh, aha, yeah right."

"What, don't think I can?" Violet responded, the look on her face unbothered by the other girls reaction. "Brody was the one who carried you to the school after you crashed and I'm, like, at least as strong as Brody was."

Clementine's face dropped at the revelation. "Wait-... Brody brought us back?"

"Uh..." Violet hesitated at the change in Clementine's voice. "Yeah... Her and Marlon. She was the only one he would ever take outside the safe zone." She explained, and as an aside to herself said "Huh, guess it makes sense now..."

The playful atmosphere had now quickly disappeared, only to be replaced with a quiet, somber one. In the short time Clementine had to get to know Brody, she felt they had started to become friends. However, there weren’t many good memories made between them, and so Clementine more easily remembered the bad ones.

She could still remember that stormy night in the cellar clearly, could remember the sounds of Brody's inhuman screeching. The hot blood on her hands as she fought against the turned girl for her life. The guilt sinking in her chest like a black hole as she looked over what she had done. What she had to do. Clementine mourned her in the way she mourned everyone else she had lost. And it never got any easier.

Violet watched Clementine as she internally fought through her feelings, and once again regretted her words. She didn't want to think about Brody, either. And felt guilty over unintentionally bringing those awful memories to the surface. Clementine told them what Marlon had done that night, yet never talked about what happened after. But Violet had helped the others with the bodies, had seen what Clementine was forced to do. She remembered the sight clearly, as clearly as she remembered feeling that Marlon got what he deserved.

"Maybe we should try to get some sleep before it gets cold in here..." Clementine suggested tentatively.

Violet shifted, stretching her arms out in front of her, catching the last of the heat from the hearth on her fingers. "We should use the bed, then. It'll at least be better than the floor. Plus, there's a blanket."

Violet stood up then, stretching her legs as Clementine looked up at her. "Are you sure that thing isn't completely rotted?"

"It should be okay. We only brought it in here a little over a year ago."

"'We'? Why?"

"Uh-" Violet started at that, averting her eyes. "Um... Minnie and I... we kinda... used to hang out here..."

"Oh..." Clementine wasn't sure what to say to that, but it did confirm her suspicions. So instead, she relented. "Okay."

But she hesitated, looking between her leg and her prosthetic where it still sat propped against the side of the fireplace. "Hmm..." Should she put it back on? The bed wasn't far...

"Here," Violet reached her hand out, noticing the hesitation, "let me help you."

Clementine eyed the outstretched hand, considering her options, and once again twisted her mouth at her new limitations. She kind of hated this. She had done everything on her own for so long, and now...

"C'mon, it's okay."

She looked back and forth between Violet's face and outstretched hand a few times before finally relenting. "...Fine." She really didn't want to lace up her prosthetic just to immediately take it off again.

Clementine took her hand, and Violet helped pull her up to stand. They leaned close as she found her balance, gripping tightly at Violet's shoulder with her free hand. It only took a short moment, and once Clementine stabled herself, her eyes locked with Violet's. They both started a bit when they noticed how close they had become, face to face.

"Aha. Um, you good?" Violet asked, slightly flushed.

"Yeah," Clementine said, hiding her blush better than the other girl. "Thanks."

#twdg #violentine #replies with lexi #incognito #i know how you feel anon i remember the fic tag for them being pretty....barren..#at least compared to what i was used to being into popular ships in big fandoms in the past #i was kind of surprised honestly #but to be fair i read a lot of mlm main pairing stuff in the past and wlw just seems to get less love in fandom spaces in comparison :/#violentines get cozy under my wing i will provide for you #really trying to tackle themes of like #clem dealing with her new disability. learning to rely on others instead of always being the one relied upon #settling into ericsons and solidly accepting it as a safe home. for Real this time #clems past traumas finally catching up to her now that she is in a safe place and is beginning to truly process these events #vi dealing with her guilt over everyone she couldnt save #the way she feels guilty over leaving clem/aj in the woods and feeling partially responsible for her leg #feeling conflicted over her feelings for minnie #(anger? guilt? loss?)#and therefore feeling conflicted over her feelings for clem #(finding new love. more guilt. in a space where her and minnie had good memories together)#(this is a friended route vi where they have feeling for each other but are only acting now that the raiders are no longer a threat)#ok wow you think ive said enough at this point? this post is huge............#ive been talking for too long

37 notes · View notes

the-sprog · 7 months ago

Text

OK SECOND ATTEMPT @jadenoryuu tagging you because I don't know if you're going to get notifications for both parts of this.

So, after the destruction of the lab I imagine Tucker and Sam blame it on some random Ghost type. Maybe they even tell them that the Zorua was being attacked and it tried finding refuge in the lab only for it to get destroyed, and Sam had to battle the Pokémon away with Scraggy.

Danny becomes what his parents were attempting to create, like you said. An artificial Ghost type Pokémon slayer. Perfect to defeat them and be immune to their attacks.

About the cast:

Ohh I didn't remember about Shauntal! I can absolutely see it, with Jazz becoming her apprentice. Maybe even becoming part of the next batch of Elite Four in Unova! What if the reason they meet is because Jazz decides to try and figure out what exactly happened to Danny, so she tracks down every expert she can think of, and Shauntal becomes invested after actually meeting Phantom (going with Phantom for the Zorua form and Danny for the human one, just so it's easier to differenciate them and who knows him in which form).

Honestly, Ranger was the first thing that came to mind for Sam! There's a few Pokéfics that use Kellyn[1] and Hunter J[2] together, and when I thought about what Sam would do in the Pokémon world, these teo came to mind. I can 100% see her fighting Poképoachers. I don't fully know what the process of being a Ranger is, but I don't think that going on a Pokémon journey would hurt her chances to become one.

Yeah, I can see Tucker not really getting it, you know? Being all about the technicalities of training and battles and being utterly confused by Ash's methods, but also ultimately amazed and awed by them. He'd be the type of Trainer to ask Ash why he hasn't evolved Pikachu into a Raichu. After all, evolution makes Pokémon stronger, right? Why wouldn't Ash want to evolve pi? And he'd need a Pokémon with which he forged a really deep connection to understand the whole bodily autonomy part of it all, to see it beyond what it can do for a Pokémon in battle. He'd be a beast in competitive battles, though.

I haven't planned any Pokémon for them other than the starters, and maybe a Phantump[3] for Danny and Sam's Scraggy Ex Machina[4], so like. Feel free to add to them.

I realized that calling them Team Phantom makes it seem like they're one of the evil Teams but like. What if they're considered one? What if the Fentons successfully convince a good portion of the Unovan population that this Zorua killed their son and tried to replace him, causing a panic against Unovan Zoruas and Zoroarks. Sam and Tucker would get secret identities, separate from them being on a journey. And a rumor goes around that this weirdly coloured Zorua is kidnapping people'd children. MAYBE that's what gets put in his Pokédex entry!

In reality, Danny's getting Xerneas and Yveltal's attention (as you said, life and death), and like with Celebi and Dialga, or Keldeo and the Swords of Justice, they decided to kinda adopt him and relegate some of their duties to him. Or maybe Arceus tries to make Danny do his bidding and become the actual peacekeeper between the two Legendaries, sending him to fix the situation whenever they have a squabble (like Lugia and the Birds[5]).

Does Danny get his own dimention like Giratina? All in due time, of course. But at some point maybe. It would be neat.

Also you're right. Darkrai's whole deal is nightmares, right? I don't know why I got so confused LOL. And that's why I added sources to everything I had to look up to be sure I wasn't pulling it out of my ass.

I wonder how Jazz would feel about Pikachu technically becoming her sibling by proxy lol. (Also, yes, I use Pikachu's piself neopronouns[6], even if technically they are first person ones. No one will take this canonical fact away from me. I'm also not saying anyone else has to, technically pi has three sets of canonically used pronouns for pi (it/he/pi are all used in the anime afaik), I'm just gonna be happy as a they/it/neos user.)

ALSO I was thinking that it would make it a lot easier if at least the meeting happened during "Pokémon Journeys"[7] with Goh on tow, with he and Ash traveling through the regions again. Even though this series takes the games' stories, We can squeeze some additional stuff for Unova. Or it can happen during Alola when Ash is more stationary and Professor Kukui can have even more children whose parents are still alive to adopt.

About the translating stuff, I love when Ash can get the gist of what Pikachu says because Pokéspeak is learnable for humans even if innate for Pokémon, but he's still not fluent because there's a lot of Pokémon stuff that he can't really sense (like, Electric type Pokémon have their own special way of communicating that other types can't understand, using electric currents. I like to think it's the same thing with human), and Pikachu loves pi's trainer, really. But sometimes, maybe, pi is jealous of Meowth for being able to hold long and complex convesations with Jessie and James with ease.

So when the opportunity presents itself, well, pi is not going to take it for granted.

I also want it to be a surprise. Pikachu doesn't tell Ash pi's learning human talk (maybe just Unovan? I like when different regions are written as having different languages, and I don't think Danny would be more than monolingual. When he travels he gets around by comunicating with Pokémon), wants to surprise him. I also love when Pikachu calls Ash Pikapi. I think it's just so cute *sob*. though I don't know what would be the first thing Pikachu says to him.

I can see Danny doing the English professor thing of "What's that? I can't understand you. You gotta speak Unovan, buddy" when they're alone to force Pikachu to practice. Pikachu gets pissed off so much, especially when pi's just starting because pi can't get piself so make the right sounds, or remember the right words. It's embarassing and slightly humiliating, and Pikachu is nothing if not extremely prideful.

Ash, Pikachu, and Danny cuddling. And maybe at first Tucker and Sam tease him a little over it, but when they reslize just how long Danny had to endure alone? Cuddle pile. Danny's not sleeping alone ever again if they can help it.

I just realized Dan in this universe would be a time traveling full Pokémon Hisuian Zoroark with a mix of Danny and Vlad's coloring. Omg would Arceus be the Observants in this situation? Being the one who telling Dialga to get rid of that Halfa (just gonna use that as a name for half-pokèmon half-humans), only for Dialga to try and save him ("NO, Palkia, I did NOT get attached shut UP").

But Arceus tries to make Ash do it, give him another quest, but it's one that Ash doesn't fulfill. One that he refuses to, defying Arceus and saving Danny (with Dialga's help. Maybe even Giratina, less for Danny himself, more for the opportunity to screw with Arceus. "Oh, we're hating on Arceus? I'm in" "You don't even know what we're fighting our progenitor for!" "Don't really care, I just want to rip It a new one. Just take the help, Dialga.").

Ok woah this was long. I tried to write it as fast as possible because I'm not giving this hellsite the chance to fuck with me.

I hope it doesn't bother you that I keep adding to this *sob* I'm just fixated. But I can do it in a post where you don't get notifs if you want.

Now I'm done.

With this installation at least. I might get more ideas.

I think if Danny existed in the same universe as Ash Ketchum, he'd be a fan.

This got really long so I'm just gonna

I'm a believer in "Ash is God[1]'s favorite idiot (positive...?) and so is eternally 10" and also anti the level reset propaganda. I think tales of the kid who went head-to-head with several legendaries[2] and won would probably get around. Maybe they wouldn't know his name, but a general description would make the rounds. A black-haired, dark-eyed kid who is always, always accompanied by a Pikachu. Often seen with some kind of red hat.

I think Danny "God's favorite idiot (Time God[3] edition)" would start looking for this elusive child who seems to be under a similar predicament to him (Hisuian Zorua[4]!Danny anyone? C'mon, this is the Pokédex entry "A once-departed soul, returned to life in Hisui. Derives power from resentment, which rises as energy atop its head and takes on the forms of foes. In this way, Zorua vents lingering malice[5]". He would be the specialest one, though. Because he'd be a green shiny instead of blue. Maybe that would be because he's half dead, not completely so? Or maybe because he'd be artificial, kinda like Type: Null[6]? (I know it isn't the first artificial Pokémon, but he's the first I thought of because of the design being like it's a Frankenstein of other Pokémon). Imagine though. Hisuian Zorua is extinct, right? Because it's from before Sinnoh was called Sinnoh[7]. So he's already a rare Pokémon, but he's not even shiny. He's truly a one of a kind.), though Ash, contrary to popular belief, isn't a Pokémon. Just un-aging.

Here, Danny's parents would be science-y people -maybe even some lower importance Pokémon professors- who don't believe in psychics even though the Pokémon world has people that can do telekinesis, and don't believe that Ghost types were once human, as most of them are said to be, anyway. They therefore believe that all Ghost types are malicious because they prey on people's grief and loss. They'd be the people to find out that Dark types are supereffective against Ghost types[8]. They'd have mostly Dark types with some Normal types as well.

Jazz would be a scholar probably, researching the myths and history around all the legendaries, but especially around Ghost types. She'd become an expert in behaviors from Pokémon like Litwick[9].

Sam would be on the front line, protecting the Ghost types from them. Hiding, harboring, etc all that she can think of. For her own Pokémon that she catches or at least takes care of (maybe she'd be more of an N type of trainer) she'd go more for the aesthetic or for rescued Pokémon (like Ash does quite often) more than their type or their abilities, but I also think she'd vibe with Fighting types a lot. I can see her wanting to be a Pokémon Ranger[10].

Tucker would be your classic inventor wannabe Electric type gym leader, but he'd be one of those hardcore competitive trainers. He'd be excellent at type advantages and IVs grinding, but I also think he'd struggle like Ash did with Charizard and some others. He would sometimes over level them and they'd stop listening to him, get an attitude when they evolve. Stuff like that. He's gotta learn that there's more to Pokémon battles than statistics and the theoretical. I think Ash is gonna end up being the one to teach him this. Also imagining his mom as a Nurse Joy.

However, when the Fentons find a... shiny? Zorua? In their house, posing as their son? They freak out a bit. They know it's not their son because the eyes are the wrong color, even if it speaks with Danny's voice and makes expressions with Danny's face. But they're in Unova. They recognize the Pokémon once it transforms.

Zoruas are known to play tricks on parents. They're Dark types with a mischievous side. They just gotta look for its mama and hope that it has taken Danny by mistake. They decide to take care of it in the meantime, even consider keeping it in case it doesn't have a mama and was using Danny's disappearance to keep itself safe.

Danny doesn't know what to do. At first he thinks about coming clean, but he knows. He knows that whatever invention of theirs blew up in his face didn't just turn him into a Zorua. People don't just turn into any kind of Pokémon. So he doesn't say anything, and plays along. He practices his illusions to try and get his looks as close as he can to before the accident, but it doesn't work for his eyes. No matter what he does, they're green, just like his fur markings when he's tranformed.

But then... Then they realize that it's not an Unovan Zorua.

This Zorus is a Ghost type.

A Ghost type taking Danny's form.

Their baby is dead. It killed him and this… this monster had the audacity to try and, what, replace him?

They start calling him Phantom.

Danny has to run.

It's easier to fake being a kid on a Pokémon journey than a rare version of a rare version of an extinct Pokémon. The only problem is that he's lacking the documents for it. Sam helps out with funding and supplies for the journey, enough to get to Professor Juniper and get a Pokédex, and with that a trainer license. At least until she and Tucker can join him.

They convince their parents to let them go on a journey, somehow. Sam's parents aren't thrilled by their daughter wanting to take part in the fights, they'd much prefer it if she joined Pokémon Contests, but perhaps her grannie Ida used to be a Gym leader of some kind and manages to turn them in Sam's favor. Meanwhile, Tucker's parents knew he wanted to become a Gym leader, so they were prepared and aware he'd one day go and leave the nest, but they'd always assumed Danny would be the one accompanying him, not Sam. They aren't surprised, however, that the kids want to get out after what -supposedly- happened to their friend.

The first few months are absolutely miserable all around. Danny is all alone, he has no Pokémon to defend himself, and he's still figuring out how his own powers work. What's his move set? His ability? And Sam and Tucker aren't fairing much better. They're like Misty and Ash at the very start, or even Iris and Ash. They're making good progress in terms of getting to Danny quickly, but they're not doing good on the Pokémon training part of their Pokémon journey.

Professor Juniper sends the Starters in the mail in the first Gen V game, while in the second Belle is the one to give them to you. I still think Prof. Juniper just. Shipped the Pokéballs over, and I imagine Sam wouldn't be too happy about it. I think she'd choose Tepig (as I said, I think Fighting types and her would vibe), and Tucker for Snivy (his first struggle. Snivys are snarky and a little self centered. if it doesn't want to listen to Tucker, it won't. Tucker gotta earn its respect). They leave Oshawott with Jazz, who promises to help them derail her parents whenver possible and uses Oshawott to sabotage them.

They end up in a kind of "Ash and Team Rocket"-like situation, where Team Phantom gets chased through Unova -and then Alola or whichever other region they decide to escape to- while the Fentons try to catch the Pokémon they're convinced killed their son.

Danny-as-Phantom would get a reputation because of his looks and the general mayhem his parents cause with their chase. Some people would get very curious about this Pokémon, especially Team Rocket. so maybe that's how meeting Ash happens.

Phantom gets separated from Sam and Tucker, maybe they got captured, or are busy distracting the Fentons. Ash ends up trying to console a scared little Zorua, one he's never seen anything like before, before Team Rocket shows up. He puts the little Zorua down behind him and goes:

"When are you going to give up?! I won't let you have Pikachu!"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, twerp. We're not here for Pikachu this time. We're here for that little Zorua behind you."

"Oh. Well, we're not letting you get it, either!"

Cue Pokémon battle.

At this point I imagine Team Phantom got to Alola, so we can also have a Tucker+Sophocles meeting. I'm still not over that kid's name btw.

Ash would be starry-eyed at Tucker. Boy liked tech. Maybe Tuck gets himself a particularly stubborn Pichu during their travels and causes Ash to get flashbacks.

He'd be Phantom's rights n1 protector. Starts batting away all the pokeballs people try to throw at him, like physically getting in the way.

Ooh what if the Thermos is a Ghost type specific MasterBall? It has a 100% catch rate but only with Ghost types. It didn't used to work, but then Danny charged it with one of his moves and -since Ghost moves are supereffective on Ghost types- it charged it perfectly. Danny uses it to catch rowdy Ghost types, of whom he's slowly becoming the King without realizing. Arceus started this whole thing that he couldn't stand Danny, but Dialga really liked the guy so he let him meet Ash to see how it would go and damn. Ash likes him. I mean, it's hard for Ash to hate truly hate someone, so it's not that surprising, but now Arceus finds Itself incapable of taking Danny away from Dialga. Sure! It can keep the kid! Whatever! They all want to be like It nowadays >:( copycats.

Danny is close to becoming a mystical pokémon due to all he does and the myths he's causing during his journey, but Arceus isn't convinced it's a good idea for him to have that status. First of all, because Darkrai might riot, second of all because it hasn't been that long and Danny is still, at the very least partially, a human child.

Shut up, It's not being hypocritical >:( it's fine when It does it.

But also Danny can now communicate with all pokémon with ease. He's not a Ditto, so he still can't fully comprehend some specific pokémon languages, like Electric types communicating via electric currents, but he gets around.

He doesn't like playing translator, though, and Pikachu learns that pretty quickly when pi starts to try and pester him to convince him to tell pi's trainer all about their journey from the beginning from pi's perspective. Danny makes it to the bike stealing before he uses an illusion to vanish.

Pikachu just has a lot of feelings about it all, ok? Pi loves Ash so much and pi wants him to know! Wants to talk about Ash-Greninja, about the Kalos Crisis, about Latias, about Delia, about N, about all the pokémon they left behind, about the pokeballs, about evolution.

Pi also wants more ketchup, but it's low on pi's list of priorities.

Danny isn't up for playing mediator, however. Though he might mention the ketchup stuff. Just to piss pi off.

@jadenoryuu hope you don't mind the tag, I thought you might have ideas or just like this one lol no pressure.

Husuian Zorua can learn some Ice type moves, I'm imagining Lillie's Alola Vulpix learning with him.

#it didn't let me tag in the previous reblog #but there's a tw for description of drowning and mcd #as i said in the post itself

47 notes · View notes

beauvibaby · 4 years ago

Text

there won’t be anyone else — t.seguin

a/n: obviously my timeline isn’t going to be accurate, and I know he went back to Canada for a large portion of his recovery but this is what worked… should I do a part 2???

Part two here!

summary: tyler asks his best friend to stay with him and his daughter during his recovery

word count: 5.2k

tagging people who interacted with my post: @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @mandypants95 @fallinallincurls @sidscrosbyy @myhockeyworld87 @lilyhood22 @joeyisourranger @je-ne-regrette-rien @youngbeezer @slimdebrusk

“Y/N?” Tyler spoke nervously, you tore your eyes off of the six month old in your arms, she gurgled in complaint as she grabbed at your face, “what’s up?” You asked him, shushing his daughter as she kept pinching your face. He smiled at the sight of you two, “I have to have a couple of surgeries, big surgeries, and I’m going to need a lot of help with Willow.” He explained, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “do you think you could come stay with us for a while?” He finally asked, you nodded instantly, you’d known Tyler ever since he came to Dallas. Long before he ended up as a single father to little Willow. “Of course, Ty.” You assured him, “anything you guys need.” You added, giving him a soft smile as Willow reached for her daddy. “Hi baby girl.” He grinned, smothering her in kisses, “glad you finally wanted to come back to me.” He teased her, holding her above his head as she giggled, the sight alone melted your heart as she grabbed at his beard the second it was in reach. “When is the surgery?” You asked him, you were fortunate enough to run an online shop, so really, as long as you could bring your supplies to his house, which you knew he’d have no problem with, you’d be set.

“Next week,” he paused, glancing over at you, “in New York.” He rushed his words together. “New York?” You gasped, eyes going a little wide. “You don’t have to come!” He stated, “my mom is going to meet me there, and then she’ll fly with me back here.” He explained, “I’ll be gone for a little over a week, then I can rehab here.” He added, realizing he didn’t explain anything very well. “Are you sure you don’t want us there?” You asked, motioning to Willow who was happily laying on his chest, gurgling away, probably close to taking a nap since she just ate. “I do, I really do, but it’s not worth the hassle, she’ll be happier here.” Tyler sighed, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’ll send you a bunch of pictures and videos of her, promise.” You laughed softly, thinking of how crazy this recovery is going to be for him. “You’re going to do great.” You assured him, seeing the wheels turning in his head, “I’m sure of it, and I’ll do anything I can to help.” You murmured, running a hand through your hair as all he could do was muster up a smile.

***

Day 1.

Tyler’s mom FaceTimed you that night, once he was coherent enough to remember seeing his daughter. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin.” You spoke softly, Willow looking around with wide eyes on your lap, you flipped the camera to show her, “Tyler.” His mom mumbled, handing the phone over, he looked exhausted but the way his eyes lit up when he saw Willow, she’d just had a bath so she was only in a diaper, showing off her chunky little legs. “Hey, Willow, hi baby.” He spoke, she focused in on the phone, rapidly swatting at it as she recognized his face. You giggled, moving her around to be sitting more on your chest, her face next to yours. “Say hi.” You cooed to her, waving her hand for her, she bounced excitedly as he smiled at her.

Day 2.

He was a little grumpy that day, but tried not to show it as he got to see Willow via FaceTime again, you knew he was already tired of being unable to move.

Day 3.

You were talking to him encouragely as he walked for the first time in three days, Willow sleeping in her room, Tyler’s mom held the phone out in front of her. You knew it had to be hard for her as well, to see her son like this, all because he was playing the sport he loved. You took some time to talk to her as the nurses helped Tyler get back in bed.

He didn’t feel up to talking again that day so you were sure to send him photos and videos of Willow, she was finally sitting up on her own without falling over.

The next week went on like that until he was finally coming home, luckily it was right during Willow’s long afternoon nap, so you could help him get settled and get everything in order before his mother had to leave to catch a flight tonight.

***

“Hey, Tyler.” You smiled, opening the car door, greeting him brightly, he tried to mimic your eyes excitement, but you could tell it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Hey.” He mumbled, letting out a soft groan as you helped him get out and onto his feet, he gave his mom a hard time about using the wheelchair, you could see the pain floating in her eyes, just overly worried that he would fall. “I’ve got him, Jackie.” You assured, walking directly beside him as he hobbled with his crutches, she nodded, grabbing the bags out of the car as you helped him get inside the house.

“Thank you.” He sighed, leaning into the couch cushion as you put a pillow under his leg. You just gave him a reassuring smile, his mom dropping the stuff by the entryway, “be easy on her, I know it’s hard for you, but imagine if you saw Willow like this.” You added in a whisper, understanding came across his face as he nodded, motioning for her to sit beside him, you let them have their moment as you grabbed his bags and brought them to the room he’d been staying in, on the first floor for now, until stairs weren’t a questionable decision.

You put the clothes in the laundry, and moved some stuff down to the guest room, humming softly as you did this stuff without question, just doing it to be helpful, not thinking of how much the small gesture would really mean to him.

After a while, you peeked in on Willow and she was still sleeping soundly with her arms above her head, you smiled, carefully shutting the door to the nursery and heading down the stairs with the monitor, Jackie had to get going if she was going to make it to the airport in time. So you both said your goodbyes, and you could tell it was hard for Tyler to let her leave like that, but what was he to do, she has a life to get on with as well.

“How has she been while I was gone?” Tyler asked, looking at Willow on the monitor, his heart clenching in his chest, wanting nothing more than to hold his baby girl again. “She was good, Ty.” You giggled, easing his nerves, he nodded, “thank you, so much, I know we just started the recovery process but you’ve already helped so much.” He explained, adjusting himself on the cushions, “you don’t have to keep thanking me, I’m happy to help, I love spending time with her, and you.” He smiled at your words, giving you the side eye as you turned away in embarrassment. You two had always been flirty, but once he came to you and said that was going to be a dad, he changed, he stopped going out, he spent his time at home, and it only made it easier for you to imagine a life with him. “We like spending time with you too.” He whispered, resting his hand on your knee right before Willow started to cry. You could tell he briefly forgot he couldn’t go get her as he went to sit up but then stopped himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her.” You hopped up, excited to see her when she finally got to see him for the first time in over a week, you took the stairs two at a time as you heard her crying get more intense.

As you picked her up, you completely forgot that Tyler had the monitor, and could hear and see you tending to her. “Oh my goodness.” You cooed, scooping her up, “your daddy is so excited to see you.” You grinned, kissing her chubby cheeks, making a brief face of disgust as you got a whiff of her diaper, “let’s get you cleaned up first.” You whispered, grabbing her a new outfit, this one having dealt with a small blowout. You quickly changed her and put her in her little jean shorts and a pink shirt, if it wasn’t for you, you were certain Tyler wouldn’t have anything girly for her to wear. He was watching the whole time as you took care of her like she was your own, his heart swelling in his chest, he’d always had a thing for you, but as he saw you with his baby, it only made him fall harder. And he became determined to make you his by the time he was back to playing.

He turned the monitor off and shimmied himself to be sitting up more properly as you came down the stairs, “who is that, Willow?” You gasped, pointing towards Tyler, she began to bounce in your arms. “It’s daddy.” You grinned at her, walking over to him and allowing him to take her. He breathed out in relief, “I missed you so much, baby girl.” He groaned, hugging her tightly, she pushed on him so she could lean back and look at him, she looked at him with a completely serious face before trying to bite his nose. He broke into a fit of laughter as he moved her away from his face, “that’s not nice princess.” He joked, tickling her sides, she giggled swinging her little legs as he lifted her up. “I swear she grew in a week.” He mumbled, sitting her on his good side, she sat on the couch, chewing on her hands and getting drool everywhere. “And she sits now.” He groaned, dramatically resting his head in the couch, she mimicked him and fell into the cushion. “Crazy girl.” You commented, taking the chance while she was distracted to tie up the top part of her hair, she definitely had his hair and all it did was fall in her eyes. Tyler smirked at you, you rolled your eyes at him, “now she looks like a real little princess.” You quipped to him, he faked a gasp, dramatically hoisting her into his chest. “How dare Y/N say that about my princess.”

It was a lot of extra work, and mess, but you brought her jar of food and bib to the couch so Tyler could feed her, knowing it was one of his favorite times with her as she was so smiley. “Have you ever tried this?” Tyler asked curiously as you sat beside him with her in your lap, she happily ate the spoonful of puréed apples, peas and beets. “Baby food?” You asked with a laugh, he nodded, pushing some more into her gummy smile, she gnawed on the spoon as he tried to take it away. “No, I haven’t.” You answered as you contained your laughter, “I tried it once, I figured it couldn’t be so bad, and it was even worse than bad.” He explained, carefully prying the spoon from her hands, she pouted at him, about to cry until he gave her the last bite and let her chew on the soft rubber spoon. “I’m sure it was.” You snickered, lightly wiping around her mouth, “when’s that first tooth gonna come in? Hmm.” He spoke to her, rubbing her little tummy as she burped, he smiled at her, the love he had for her was something only a father and daughter could share, and it was beautiful as you could see the concern on his face as she began to whimper. You let him take her as you went to get rid of the jar and spoon, coming back with her bottle.

“I just changed her, so she should be good for a while after this, is it alright if I go get some work done?” You asked him, he easily nodded as he laid her back on his chest, holding the bottle up to her lips as she eagerly started sucking on it. “Yeah, of course.” He spoke, not hearing you had already started walking away once he nodded, he smiled as you were tying your hair up sloppily while you walked, something you’d always done when you were getting focused on a project.

He turned on the golf channel, sinking into the couch with Willow as she fell asleep once her bottle was empty, he laid her down in the cushion beside him, boxing her in with a rolled up blanket and leaving his hand resting on her as he himself fell asleep.

***

Tyler had been home for a couple of weeks, physical therapy had been stepping up a lot, which meant he was incredibly sore by the time he got home, and incredibly stubborn. He figured, if he could do it just fine with a doctor walking beside him, there was no reason he couldn’t walk ten feet into the bathroom. Well, he quickly found out he was wrong as he stumbled from a pain in his hip and ended up on his knees, cursing as he couldn’t push himself up. You heard him fall, then the sounds of him cursing to himself and you shot up. “Tyler!” You called, rushing towards his room, he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as you rounded the corner. “Hey, hey, are you ok?” You gasped kneeling beside him. He shook his head, slumping against the wall in defeat, “what’s wrong?” You asked, looking over him, trying to make sure he didn’t pull any stitches, or injure himself again. “I just can’t get up.” He muttered, slamming his fist on the wall. “I’m a fucking professional athlete and I can’t stand up on my own!” He snapped, he thought you’d move away at the tone of his voice, but you didn’t, you only moved closer, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I know, Ty. It’s going to be ok.” You whispered, his breathing was ragged as he finally gave in and hugged you back. He calmed down as you just stayed there, letting him hug you as tight as he needed, you pushed his curly mop of hair back once he completely calmed down. “You ready to get back up again?” You whispered, he nodded watching you stand up and give him your hands. “Just push with your good leg, alright.” You gently reminded him, stepping a little sideways to give your feet some traction. “One, two, three.” You pulled on his hands as he slid up, his back against the wall steadying him, he planted both feet on the ground, you quickly grabbed his crutches.

“I’ll just wait until you’re back in bed.” You mumbled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he nodded, hobbling to the bathroom right outside the room. Your adrenaline high quickly crashed as you waited for him, and you found yourself laying flat on the bed as you waited.

Tyler came back into the room, stopping in the doorway as he saw you stretched out on half of the bed. A smile came over his face as you shifted in your sleep, burying half your face in the pillow, inhaling softly as you felt at peace. He didn’t wake you, he couldn’t bring himself too, so he carefully got into the opposite side of the bed, the thumping in his chest so loud he was certain you could feel it as you subconsciously rolled towards him, resting your hand on his chest as he threw the blanket over you.

Eventually, morning came, and when you woke up in the empty bed, the events of last night came rushing back and you leaped out of bed, not only was Willow crying from her room, but you didn’t see Tyler anywhere, you instantly became worried he’d fallen again and you’d slept right through it. “Y/N?” Tyler called as you went rushing past the kitchen looking for him. “Tyler!” You gasped in relief, placing a hand over your chest as you saw him pouring a cup of coffee. “I thought you fell again, oh my god, where did you sleep? Oh, the baby, let me get the baby!” You rambled heading for the stairs, he chuckled as he listened to you stomp up them, Willow’s crying soon stopping as you picked her up.

He was feeling a little better today, so he managed to get Willow’s morning bottle ready, and some toast for himself, settling himself at the table as you came down the steps. Your hair was tangled in itself, you didn’t have makeup on, and you were in oversized sweats and a tank top, but you’d never looked better to him as you giggled with his daughter on your hip.

You called his name as you walked into the kitchen, spotting him at the table, he didn’t answer, but his eyes were pointed in your direction, “Tyler?” You called again, snapping your fingers. He blinked, “what? Sorry.” Tyler muttered sheepishly, “did you want eggs?” You asked him, eyeing him suspiciously as you maneuvered Willow in your arms to give her her bottle. She happily started drinking it as you propped it up on your cheek, pulling the eggs out of the fridge. “Give her to me.” Tyler chuckled, making grabby hands for her as you struggled to balance everything, you happily gave her over, glancing back as he cooed down to her, whispering a good morning as he kissed her messy head of his hair, they looked so like in that moment, Tyler with his hair sticking all over the place, and Willow with hers pushed to the side from you, with a clip barely holding it back.

“I’m not sure if you’re up to it, or if you want to, but I was going to go to the pumpkin patch later today, if you and Willow want to come?” You offered, “I know you hate having to use that wheelchair but it would be so fun to see her next to all those giant pumpkins.” You raddled on, giving Tyler the chance to admire you, “yeah, that sounds fun.” He answered, smiling when you turned to face him excitedly, “I’m sure you have some cute outfit for her planned out too.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, and you nodded eagerly, of course you did, how could you not, it is her first fall season after all.

“Here ya go.” You mumbled, sliding a plate in front of him, he furrowed his eyebrows, “I never answered about the eggs.” He didn’t argue though, as he picked up his fork and took a bite. “I know, but you’re doing a lot today, you need them.” You giggled, offering a small piece to Willow, now nearly eight months old. She happily mushed it with her couple of teeth, smiling brightly at Tyler, he nodded reassuring her that she was doing good.

Finally you were loading up into the car to go out for a while, Willow dressed in the cutest outfit she had, something you’d bought before she was even born. The belle sleeve onesie just barely still fit her chunky frame, and the red overall skirt over top just made her look even more adorable, and of course, a matching red bow in her hair. Tyler jokingly didn’t approve of how short her skirt was as he took her from you once you arrived, she sat perched on his lap as you pushed the wheelchair down the isles, thankful for the wood boards they had put down as paths in the dirt, Willow was making noises at everything she saw, reaching out to touch the pumpkins every once in a while. “Let me get a picture of you two.” You stopped his chair next to a huge pile of pumpkins, and he stood Willow up on his lap as she grinned at you, it was by far one of your favorite photos of them so far.

An older couple was walking by and smiled at you, “would you like me to take a photo for you?” She asked, and before you could even process her words, Tyler was answering with a yes please. You felt the blood rush to your face as you approached him, he handed Willow to you, and you were about to stand beside him but he gently pulled you to sit on his good leg, you didn’t have time to react, you only smiled for the camera just like he was. “Oh, how beautiful.” The older woman cheered, handing the phone back over to you. “Thanks.” You mumbled, Willow hiding her face in your neck, suddenly shy. You clicked on the picture, and you felt like your chest would explode, you looked like a family, but you weren’t. “Y/N?” Tyler called, you quickly shoved your phone in your pocket, “are you ready to go?” He asked, taking the baby back from you, confusion laced in his tone as he saw the look on your face. “Yeah, Uh, yeah let’s go.” You mumbled, pushing the chair towards the exit, he held in a sigh, trying to figure out what had caused your sudden mood change.

***

“It’s Christmas!” You heard Tyler cheer as he got Willow out of her crib, the nine month old clapping her hands out of his excitement. Tyler was on the upside now, his second surgery complete, and now rehabbing both, he was able to walk without his crutches, he had to go slow on the stairs, but the doctor encouraged him to keep working on them. In a few weeks he’s going to be skating for the first time in months, and you were terrified, meanwhile he was ecstatic, ready to feel like his normal self again. You smiled, keeping your eyes shut as your door opened, “it’s Christmas!” Tyler shouted, putting Willow on the bed and letting her crawl up to your head, mushing on your cheeks, you gasped lifting her up quickly, sending her into a fit of giggles in her reindeer pajamas. “Christmas? Your first one!” You spoke to her, Tyler smiled, sitting beside you. “Merry Christmas.” He whispered, handing you an envelope, he laughed as you put Willow down and quickly pushed yourself to be sitting against the headboard beside him. She made her little baby babble as she played with the bunched up blanket. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” You spoke softly, opening the envelope, revealing a gorgeous Christmas card. “Oh shush, just read it.” You could hear the nerves in his tone, you shot him a smile before letting your eyes run over the extensive writing he’d done.

“Y/N, you have been a godsend in mine and Willow’s life, there isn’t anyone else I would’ve trusted to leave her with during all of this, there isn’t anyone else I’d want to be helping me off the floor at three am. What I’m trying to get at is,

There isn’t anyone else. I don’t think there will be anyone else.

So, if you’d kindly accept my gift, dinner, without Willow, a date, that’s what I’d like to call it.

Love, Tyler.”

“What’s the matter, Seguin? Too afraid to ask me in person?” You quipped, he opened and closed his mouth searching for the right words to say, “is that a yes?” He finally asked, a hopeful look dancing in his eyes. “Of course it’s a yes. I’ve only been waiting months for you to ask.” You giggled, catching him off guard by pecking his lips, it isn’t like you two hadn’t shared kisses before, but it was normally in a drunken state. “Uh-huh.” He hummed pulling you back in for a proper kiss, Willow shrieked, startling you both. She was looking at you angrily, before snuggling up to her dad, as if saying you weren’t allowed near him. “Good job, princess, gotta protect daddy from mean ol’ Y/N.” He murmured to her, earning a glare from you, but as he broke into laughter, you couldn’t even keep up your charades. “Come on, it’s Christmas, she’s got presents to open.” You mumbled, kissing her chubby cheek, “presents!” He cheered, holding her up highly, she giggled as he lunged her back down.

The date had gone as good as you could’ve hoped,

not exactly how he’d planned, but still a great night, the sitter had cancelled, and the restaurant he wanted to take you too didn’t offer a pick up option, so you ended up eating pizza on the living room floor, watching Disney movies, per your request, and talking about everything and anything. And of course, there were lots of stolen kisses.

***

“It’s alright to be a little scared you know.” You reminded your now boyfriend, he was about to go on the ice for the first time in months, and the anxiety just hit him, what if’s repeating themselves in his head. Willow was fast asleep in the stroller, tired from her own activities this morning. “But–“ “No but, you’ve got this babe, you’ve been warming up to this for months, hell, you probably skate better than you walk.” You cut him off, giving him a short pep talk, you squealed in delight when he pulled you in for a quick kiss. You pulled away with a smile, “now, go show that ice whose boss.” You giggled, pecking him once more before patting his shoulder, you weren’t allowed to watch him rinkside, no distractions allowed, so you took Willow for a short walk, all the while she slept. You kept yourself busy, getting caught up with things on your phone as you waited for Tyler to call and say he was done.

Finally as you went back to get him, Willow was awake but grumpy, and hungry, so you kind of just rushed in with her on your hip. Also remembering you had some stuff to do for work today that was time sensitive, “how’d it go?” You asked as you bounced her in an attempt to get her to calm down. Tyler slung his bag over his shoulder, “it was great, rusty, but it felt good.” He explained shortly, sending your urgency, “I’ll put her in the car.” He offered, taking her from you, and instantly she calmed down, only making you feel worse. You knew it was common for her to go through phases, hell, she’d done this with Tyler where she wanted nothing to do with him for almost a whole month, you didn’t realize how bad it would hurt. He shot you an apologetic smile, “hey, just take a deep breath. You’re gonna get everything done on time.” He assured you.

***

New Years had come and gone, and Willow’s first birthday was quickly approaching, as were her first steps. Tyler was sad that they were going to be happening so soon, but at the same time he was beyond excited for her to be running around in no time.

She quickly grew out of the phase of only wanting Tyler, which both of you were grateful for, as he could see it eating away at you.

“Come on, come to dada.” You heard Tyler, you peeked your head around the wall, seeing him sitting on the floor arms reach away from Willow, she looked at him quizzically, reaching her arms out, she wobbled but didn’t fall. “Come on baby.” He encouraged her, she took one step, two, three, and he just kept sliding back until she couldn’t go any further. “Oh my god!” You and Tyler shouted at the same time, “shit,” he jumped now knowing you were behind him. “Hi.” You laughed, sitting beside him, “I think you officially have a walker on your hands.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He furrowed his brows for a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something, but then decided against it. “Yeah I do.” He chuckled in agreement, setting her back on her feet and grinning as she did it again, and again, and again until she was too tired to do anymore and just plopped herself on your lap.

“Hi baby.” You mumbled, kissing her forehead, she sighed, nuzzling into your neck, instantly falling asleep. “She loves you.” Tyler mumbled, tucking your loose hair behind your hair, you bit your lip as you looked over at him. “I love you.” He breathed out, relief hitting him when you broke into a huge smile, “I love you, Ty.” You mumbled, he kissed you as good as he could with Willow curled up on your lap. “Let’s go put her to bed, yeah.” He laughed, taking her from you and disappearing to her room in record speed.

***

Tyler had his first morning skate today, finally getting back into a routine with the team, he was anxious as it was on a Saturday, thankfully no game today, but it was Willow’s birthday party. Of course, all planned by you, Tyler clueless on what to do for a one year old, all he knew is it had to be puppy themed, because those were her absolute favorite things.

“Woah.” Tyler stopped in his tracks, seeing the decorations you’d spread out around the house, his dogs happily laying with party hats on their heads. “Baby, this is awesome.” He chuckled as you came around the corner to greet him, “I know it is.” You laughed, welcoming the hug he offered you. “Thanks for doing all this for her.” He mumbled against your head, “of course.”

***

“Dada, dada, dada!” Willow shrieked running towards him, “Willow?” He gasped, his first game back resulting in a loss, but he scored and you couldn’t lie, it made you emotional. And he was all the clueless to you two being here, “surprise!” You grinned as he scooped her up, “you came?” He mumbled in shock, kissing his daughter before pulling you in with his other arm, “of course we came.” You whispered against his lips, smiling as he finally kissed you, “you did so amazing, babe, I’m so proud of you.” You cupped his jaw with one hand, “thank you.” Is all he could get out before Willow started to speak. She reached for you, “mama.” Your breathing hitched, and Tyler’s smile had grown. You looked to him, afraid to over step, “yes baby, that’s mama.” He assured her, “Tyler.” You cautioned, taking her as she kept reaching for you.

“Y/N, she’s just as much yours as she is mine, you’ve been here since she came home, you’ve taken care of her like a mother, and I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. So yes. You’re her mom.” His words brought tears to your eyes, he smiled softly wiping away the tears, kissing your forehead as Willow watched curiously, she kissed your cheek with a smile, having learned early on to be affectionate to people she liked. “Thank you baby,” you cooed to her, resting your head on top of hers. “Mama?” She hummed, smiling against you. “Yeah.” You agreed. “I love you.” Tyler sighed, snapping a picture of his girls, he said the words right before he snapped the picture, getting the most genuine smile from you. “I love you.”

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @calgarycanuck

#tyler seguin #imagine #imagines #Tyler seguin imagine #Tyler seguin imagines #Tyler seguin fic #Tyler seguin story #Dallas stars

375 notes · View notes

bigballofstress · 4 years ago

Text

Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing. Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps. My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed. In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything. Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort. Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up. None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious. Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it. I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed. She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.” Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night. Yes, I had everything I needed. The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it. I never really wanted to be a bad person. But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job. I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it. I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me. And it was easier than I thought it would be. Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless. Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought. I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique. It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me. I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did. It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well. So, I learned how to run through a city. And now, I’m practically unstoppable.

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character. My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen. Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular. Guys like him were a gamble. Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance. Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings. However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor. The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him. As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out. The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards. Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.

My jaw clenched for half a second. This wasn’t good. His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained. And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast. I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper. Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion. “It was all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically. “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes. “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!” I dismissed. “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.” We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps. 1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier. “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me. “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself. “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped. “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going. See you around, sir!” I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower. The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise. They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16. I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her. She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault. And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet. I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!” The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment. That is, until Tony busted out laughing. Steve frowned. “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash. “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. “She scammed you, bro. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths. I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone. That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time. But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly. Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face. There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table. It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down. He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him. Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you. I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand. I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it. As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind. “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips. “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person. “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before. Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him. Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree. His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.” I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much. You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap. “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit. “You really think so, huh? How old are you anyways? I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question. I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not. “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch. “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding, it got that late?! My dad’s gonna kill me!” I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket. “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home. I really liked talking to you, though! I hope we can meet again!” I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag. The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration. “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower. If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?” Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face. Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library. I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce. “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down. “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading. Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers? And she actually understood?” Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled. “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed. “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in. “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically. “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too. Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head. “No. I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up. “This teenager... Was she about 16? With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room. “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager! How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended. “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now. Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank. A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed. Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents? Well, apparently, that weirdo did. I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather! All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks. I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned. Maybe my luck was getting better after all. I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals? After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing. I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest. And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game. And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play. Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back. “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined. This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth. It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark. That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit. Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what? Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything? “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok? Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go. Ok, new strategy. A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head. “No, it’s not entirely your fault. I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better. Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen. I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him. Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away. I had to act quick or lose my chance. Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable. “Hey, I really am sorry. I kind of overreacted. It wasn’t cool. I guess I just got a little nervous. My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet. I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you. I just wanted to say thanks.” I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly. As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch. Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it. There’s a really nice café right over there.” I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him. He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist. Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good. I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?” He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk. “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents. Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today. I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked. “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy. These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.” Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist. “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.” He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization. “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid! The kid who spilled coffee on me today!” He shouted. “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone. She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again. “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?” Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically. “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes. Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face. “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?” The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken. “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened. I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me. It was probably one of the best days of my life. Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious. Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day. And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year! Still, I knew what I had to do.

It was almost Christmas. With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought. So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores. I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows. And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them. I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast.

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself. Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin. Eventually, I reached my breaking point. I’d gone I think four days now without any food. My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything. I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars. Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out. I frowned when I saw who they were. A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another. Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate. I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket. I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened. “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket. He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away. “Hey! Get back here!” He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey! Get back here!” I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part. Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet. They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks. My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me. I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha! We’ve finally caught you!” The man behind me panted. I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid? Rock beats teenager...” He called warily. I continued to ignore him. I was only five feet away. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up. I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips. I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me. “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was hungry.” I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing. Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before. Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like. Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight. I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face. I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself. Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air. I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind. If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death. Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling. Alright, I guess that’s it then. I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die. My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl. He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down. Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined. “Alright, that settles it. We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily. “You sure? The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

#Avengers #avengers one shot #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

448 notes · View notes

datleggy · 4 years ago

Note

i’m not sure if this is a good prompt but i’d love to see something based off of jealous eddie in the new episode. established relationship with buck reassuring him about how he and taylor are just good friends. maybe getting together with a first kiss. i love all your work, but don’t feel like you need to write this if it doesn’t spark anything. thank you!

so i haven’t had a chance to watch the new episode yet, but i’ve seen gifs of jealous!eddie and it’s given me life lmao so here we go

Taylor is at the station...again. And that’s fine. Totally fine, Eddie tells himself over and over in his head, as he watches Buck moon over the reporter.

A week ago Eddie was content with his life and everyone’s place in it. Or so he thought, until he realized exactly why he was so bothered by Taylors presence at the station. All thanks to Chimney and his extraordinarily large mouth.

Eddie huffs, annoyed just thinking about it. He’d been in the locker room after a long shift, and Buck had run in and changed faster than lightning, barely taking the time to tie his shoelaces. Eddie had asked if he wanted to come over and grab a beer, maybe play some video games with him and Christopher, but Buck had politely declined. “Sorry man, I’ve got plans with Taylor, she’s waiting outside for me. I’ll see you guys Monday! Bye!” He’d waved and sped out of the station before Eddie could so much as think of an appropriate response.

Chim had laughed and said something that had most definitely struck a nerve, whether he’d intended it to or not. “Hey, cheer up, there’s other fish in the sea.”

And Eddie had thought in that instance: But I don’t want anyone else.

The very next day he’d broken things off with Ana. She’d been more confused than anything, initially, wondering if maybe she’d done something wrong, which had prompted Eddie to spill his guts to her about these decidedly romantic feelings he’s been harboring for his best friend.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize, not until last night, or I wouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just--” He’d tried to explain, tongue tied and at a loss. Ana was perfect, after all. Intelligent, a self possessed woman with ambition, good humor; she got along just swell with Christopher, and she was gorgeous to boot. But...

“Hey,” Ana had taken one of his hands into her own and squeezed gently, comfortingly. “So...this sucks. Because I really do like you Edmundo. A lot. But I am glad you were able to sort your feelings out. I know--especially growing up in a Hispanic household--how difficult it can be to come to that kind of conclusion. Have you...told him, yet?”

Eddie had shaken his head no, “Um, actually? You’re the first person I’ve told.”

That had come as a huge surprise to Ana, who, though heartbroken, had still offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, in the future.

Now, a week later, Eddie still hasn’t said a single word of this to anyone else. Not to Hen or Chim, not to his Captain--though sometimes the way Bobby looks over at him makes Eddie think the man knows something--and most definitely not to Buck himself.

Instead, he departs from the crew, shoulders stiff, irritation spiking, and makes his way to the bunks. Which is where Buck finds him a few minutes later, sulking.

“You ok?”

Eddie’s head swivels towards the entrance and he can’t help but frown at the tall figure standing there. It’s all Bucks fault, with the way his hair goes poofy with strawberry curls when it’s humid outside and those dumb contagious too-wide smiles of his and that look on his face when he gets hyped whenever he gets a chance to share any of the million factoids he’s learned--all of it makes Eddie want to rush up to him and kiss his stupid face.

“Eddie?” And suddenly said face is right in front of his, just inches away, and Buck is waving a concerned hand in front of him. “Earth to Eddie, you alright?”

Eddie blinks and quickly backs away, nearly falling off the other side of the bed, if not for the fact that Buck springs into action, one long arm going around Eddie’s back and holding him upright.

Now they’re impossibly close and Buck is staring at him all wide eyed and breathing kind of funny and Eddie is swaying forward ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. He’s not sure what it is he’s doing, except that his hand is now caressing the side of Buck’s face and Buck is leaning into it and Eddie's tilting his head to the side and then their lips are meeting at the middle and Eddie can only describe the feeling as sparks of electricity bursting in his chest.

It's only when they finally pull away that reality comes crashing back down around Eddie and white hot panic sets in. "Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. I--that wasn't supposed to--I mean--" he covers his face with the hand that had been cradling Buck's cheek not five seconds ago and it's warm and butterflies flutter around in his belly.

Buck sits back on the bunk and clears his throat, "Um, I thought you and Ana were..."

Eddie looks up instantly, "No, no, we broke it off last week. Or, I guess I did..."

Buck nods. "Oh."

Eddie slides his sweaty palms across his pants and looks away, nervous. "I didn't mean to kiss you." Not when he knows Buck is dating Taylor. Not when she's literally in the other fucking room. Jesus Christ what is he even doing?

If Eddie were looking he would see the hurt that flashes across Buck's face for a split second before he's able to school his expression. "Right. Yeah." He lets out a faint impression of his usually boisterous laughter. "Who wants to be a rebound, right?" And then he's up and gone.

There's a tension hanging in the air between Buck and Eddie after the incident and no matter how badly Eddie tries to pretend it's not there it lingers.

It's Friday night when Eddie rallies and asks Buck out for a beer. Christopher is at his aunt's for the night and it's been a while since the last time they hung out together, just the two of them, so he figures it’s worth a shot.

He’s in the middle of asking Buck to go to a bar with him when who but none other than Taylor pops out from behind Buck, making the two of them jump. She tilts her head back and laughs at their expressions of surprise and Eddie wants to gag at how impeccably pretty she is with all that long red hair and those pumps on her feet that make her legs look like they go for miles.

“I got bored of waiting for you in the lot, c’mon, happy hour’s almost over.” she bumps her shoulder into his playfully and Eddie watches heartbroken as Buck gives her one of his charming megawatt grins. Taylor notices him staring and smiles politely. “Hey firefighter Diaz, didn’t see you there--we’re gonna’ hit Bahama Mama, you should come with us.”

Eddie tries to decline the invite but Taylor is relentless and despite his protests, he finds himself at the counter, ordering drinks next to Taylor, fifteen minutes later. He hates small talk, and apparently so does Taylor, because the moment Buck steps away to go to the restroom she turns to Eddie with her razor sharp stare and says, “So I heard you kissed Buck the other day and tried to do a little take back, huh?”

Eddie wants to glare at her and tell her to mind her business but this is her business, and he’s the one in the wrong here, not Taylor, and so instead of lashing out he bites his tongue and apologizes.

Taylor blinks. “What? Why are you saying that to me? It’s Buck you should be apologizing to. I’m not the one who’s heart you’re playing games with.” she snaps.

“What? What are you talking about? Look, I’m trying to say sorry here--I kissed him in the heat of the moment, and I want to say I wasn’t thinking straight but the truth is I’ve been in love with him for longer than I can admit but I know you two are dating and I know I overstepped, that wasn’t my intention at all so I just--”

“We’re not dating...”

Startled, Eddie turns around to face Buck, who’s standing behind him, having heard a good portion of that conversation. “What.”

“Is that why you said that? That you didn’t mean to kiss me? Because you thought Taylor and I were going out?” Buck can’t help but sound hopeful, gulping when it takes Eddie a moment to answer.

“You’re really not dating?” Eddie breathes out.

Buck shakes his head. “We’re just friends.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Taylor decides to break the silence. “So...I’m gonna go get us another round and let you two geniuses figure this out.”

As soon as she’s out of ear shot Buck sits down across from Eddie and both men try to speak simultaneously. “Oh, sorry, no, you go first.” Buck insists.

Eddie twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip. “How much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Buck’s heart pounds in his chest like a drum. “Uh, I think I walked up to the part where you told her you’re in love...with me? And for the record, I--you know, I--” Buck stumbles over his confession. “I’m in love with you. Too.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Eddie leans over the table precariously and holds Bucks face in his hands, not giving a damn about the fact that they’re in a crowded bar. “Are you serious?”

Buck nods softly and the scruff of his five o’clock shadow gently scratches the palms of his hand and Eddie can’t get over how much he likes that feeling. He could hold Buck like this forever. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Eddie lets Buck take the lead this time, digs his hands into those blonde curls as Buck twists a hand in his shirt and pulls him even closer.

Taylor finds them making out like teenagers in the corner of the bar twenty minutes later and pats herself on the back for a job well done. It’s about time those two idiots figured it out.

a/n anon i loved ur prompt <3 thanku!

#a little longer than a drabble mayhaps #oops #thanku for the prompt! :)#911 fox #buddie #long post is long #911 #buck buckley #eddie diaz #ask #911 fox spoilers

97 notes · View notes

kiribaku-queen · 4 years ago

Note

Let’s gooo! How about Oikawa x reader, but it’s a secret relationship (married) because she’s a trainer alongside Iwa, but she starts getting shipped with Iwa and pictures of them hugging show up... Basically Oikawa isn’t stupid, he KNOWS they aren’t doing anything behind his back but he does get jealous. So roll around to the Olympics and Iwa and reader are being asked about their relationship and bam Oikawas had enough so he comes over, kisses her and is like this is MY wife so fuck off and stop shipping her with my BESTFRIEND HAHAH

She’s Mine

Pairing: Oikawa x reader

Fluff

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you for being the first requester ever! I hope this is to your liking. I was actually worried that it wouldn’t be long enough but it actually turned out longer than I was expecting! I tried to make it funny and add Oikawa’s personality to give it that flavour. I’d love to know what you think about it anon! Thank you for your support! <3

“One touch!”

“Chance ball!”

“Get it over!”

The gym was loud with calls from their teammates, every player wanting to play their best even if it was just a practice game. You watched from the bleaches, eyes shining with admiration when you watch a certain brown haired boy spike, earning his team a point.

“Yes!” he cheered for himself and then turned to face you. “(y/n) did you see that?! That was for you baby!” he shouted, making the rest of his teammates laugh and you all red and embarrassed. You just signaled a thumbs up and let them continue with their practice game. You didn’t want to interfere, no matter how much your husband was already interfering.

“Oi, Oikawa! Focus on the game, not your wife! You can do that after!” Iwaizumi scolded him. Oikawa waved him off, his attention back on the game.

“This guy…” Iwa said under his breath. You giggled to yourself and looked at the clipboard in front of you. You were still learning how to effectively position people so that they can play their best against their opponent. And Iwa was there to help you. You guess who could say you were his assistant coach. But it was hard trying to stay professional while your husband is on the team you are coaching.

It was no surprise to the team that you guys were married. Your wedding pictures with them in the background drunk was proof enough. But you had to keep your marriage secret from the rest of the world. And this was purely based on your decision. Oikawa has always been popular, ever since high school. When he became pro, he gained even more followers. You saw it first hand. Some fans could be really obsessive and scary. Though, you knew that most fans would be supportive of you two, but you really didn’t want to risk it. You weren’t scared that they were going to come after you. Actually, you have been preparing for it ever since you got together in case you got exposed early on in your relationship. You didn’t want his fans to freak out and then he would lose his popularity over it. You were so scared that it would permanently damage his career. So you both kept it a secret. For now, at least.

“Good work today!” Iwa shouted. The boys immediately fell to the floor, exhausted. But your hubby didn’t do that. Instead, he ran up to you as soon as he finished practice to embrace you in the tightest hug.

“Babe!” you laughed and tried pushing him away. You pushing away only made him hug you tighter. And since you were trying to run away from him, he added in a few smooches just for fun.

“Okay, okay,” Iwa tugged on Oikawa’s collar to pull him away from you. “You can hug your wife later. Go clean up.” He ordered. With a pout, he left but never failed to look back at you and give you kissy faces. You were also cleaning up, putting the volleyballs away and packing up your things in your duffle bag.

“(y/n),” Iwa called to you and to ran up to him immediately. “What do you think about this line up for the game this weekend?” he asked you. You got close to look at the plan he laid out. As you and Iwa were discussing, a photographer snuck into the private gym and hid in the stands.

“Shit, looks like practice is over,” he cursed to himself. How was he going to get a good scoop now? He looked around the gym. None of the players were around. Just the coaches and maybe a few other irrelevant people. He wanted an exclusive showing how practice was going for the big team, but now he never going to get a good picture in if no one was here. The photographer was about to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw you standing next to the team’s coach. You were wearing the team’s colors and outfit. So you had to be a coach if you were standing close to coach Iwaizumi. You were standing a little too close. And you two were laughing. And play fighting? And flirting? The photographer smirked.

“Now this could be a story,” he said as he snapped a few shots of you and Iwa together. Then he made his way out of the gym, looking at the freshly took pictures for his story.

“Honey!” Oikawa came running with his bag hanging loosely over his shoulder. You ran towards him, meeting halfway and you jumped into his arms. “Ready to go home?”

“Mhm!” you hummed, placing a kiss on his lips. He kissed with equal force, if not harder, and gently set you back down on the ground.

“Still up for lunch tomorrow?” Oikawa turned to his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you guys there,” he said. Oikawa then wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close.

“Let’s go,” he told you. You looked back at Iwa as you left the gym.

��See you later, Iwa-chan!” you waved at him.

“Mhm, good work today!” he yelled back. He wouldn’t have to yell if Oikawa hadn’t kept you from continuously walking away, further and further from him. But Oikawa was always one to be touchy and protective so it was nothing new. And he was trying to be as lovey-dovey as he could because once they were out in public, absolutely no touching.

The next day, lunch rolls around and Iwaizumi is already waiting for you two at the restaurant you picked out.

“You’re late,” Iwa stated. You sat down, apologizing profusely while your husband just laughs it off.

“Sorry! Someone was in the bathroom too long,” you glared at the man beside you. He scoffed and pointed an accusing finger at you.

“I was ready before you! I was waiting so long, by the time you got out of the bathroom, I had to take a shit,” Oikawa explained himself.

“Well you should have just held it in!”

“I can’t hold my shits in!”

“Well I can!”

“That is so unhealthy,” Iwa chimed in, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“She started it,” Oikawa breathed but oh, you could hear it. And you were about to retort back if it wasn’t for Iwa to stop another oncoming argument.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just order. I’m starving,” Iwa stated, looking over the menu. It took the guys a few minutes to figure out what they wanted but you were stuck on two options. Glancing around the room, you saw another table that had the same order you wanted and boy did it look delicious. The only problem? The portion was gigantic. There was no way you were going to finish all that. So you did what any girlfriend would do.

“Babe, can you share with me?” you asked Oikawa, giving him a pouty face.

“Mm, but I’ll still be hungry later,” he said, giving you an apologetic look.

“But it’s too much food!” you stated, trying to reason with him. If they had a half portion, you would definitely take that. But unfortunately, there was no such thing.

“I’ll eat your leftovers, how about that?” he compromised, making you equally as happy.

“Tank you,” you said in the cutest baby voice that you know he loves. He gushes at how cute you are.

“Anything for you, my love,” he says back in an equally cute tone and touched noses with you. Iwaizumi is just watching this all unfold in front of him. And to think they were just arguing a second ago. He pretends to have a disgusted look on his face but on the inside, he’s happy that you two found each other. Of course, he’s never going to admit that and never will he ever mention it…. EVER.

Time flies when you’re with your two best friends. You guys could talk about everything and anything, arguing back and forth, making fun of each other, having deep talks, you do it all. Sometimes its hard to believe that you guys work together and it makes you cringe how professional you have to be with each other because you’re not used to it at all. You’re already finished with your food because you couldn’t even stomach all that. Now, you were just waiting on the boys to finish up. Especially, Oikawa since he also had to each your leftovers.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna wash my hands real quick,” Oikawa announces and heads for the men’s room. You and Iwa were left at the table together. You lean your elbows on the table and rest your chin in your hands.

“You think we’re gonna win tomorrow?” you asked Iwa. He’s much more knowledgeable that you were after all.

“Even if we don’t, it’s no big deal. But I want you to take charge tomorrow so you can get the feel and practice,” he explained. You internally, and maybe externally, groaned. You didn’t feel like you were ready and now all the pressure was going to get to your head. “So if we lose tomorrow, it’s all your fault.”

“Iwa!” you smacked his hand across the table. He kept poking fun and laughing at you, loving the reactions you were giving him. If no one knew you guys, they’d think you were dating. And that’s exactly what Mr. Photographer was thinking.

He had just arrived at the restaurant you guys were eating at, watching from behind a few trees with a big camera in hand. You were laughing at something Iwaizumi had said, earning him a few, nice shots. The photographer made sure to get the food presented on the table, as well as a few cute snaps of you two play fighting, laughing and smiling with each other. He was going to wait around longer, in case you two kissed, but he was too eager to write this new news story that he left when he got enough pictures of you two. When the photographer left, Oikawa came back to pay the check and you were on your way out.

It’s the morning of the game and you were fixing up some coffee while Oikawa sat at the dining table, eating the breakfast that you prepared for him. Both of you were minding your own business; you jamming out and singing to your music and your husband reading the news on his phone. Everything was in the ordinary until Oikawa spotted an article that made him do a double take.

[BREAKING] Coach Iwaizumi and Assistant (y/n) Dating!!!

“Honey?” he calls out for you in a questioning tone, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing you. You go over to him, coffee in hand and hug him from behind with your chin resting on his shoulder.

“What is it, love?” you ask and take a sip of your coffee.

“Look at this,” he says and brings his phone up so you can see it as clear as day. “You and Iwa? Dating?! And look at these pictures. What are these?!” You take a closer look and its definitely you and Iwaizumi. But the first picture was from the other day when you were going over positioning. And then the other picture was from yesterday at lunch. Out of context, you guys did look close and lovey-dovey… but it was all false. The more Oikawa looked at these pictures, the more irritated and jealous he got. For heavens sake, he was there both times! And that dumb paparazzi couldn’t see that you and him were together?

“Babe, looks like I’m dating your best friend now,” you laugh but Oikawa didn’t find it funny. He had a big, old pout sitting on his lips and seeing that? You knew it was going to be drama, drama, drama all day.

“Baby, don’t pout. It’s all just rumors. I love you and only you,” you try to cheer him up by giving him as many cheek kisses as you could. Your husband loved that but it didn’t make him feel any better. He should be the one in that article title not Iwa-chan. “It is kind of funny though, I’ll have to let Iwa know later.” You laugh it off and go back to the kitchen. Oikawa laughs too but it was fake and forceful. The moment you went back to the kitchen, his smile drops and a frown is immediately replaced.

It was right before the game and the boys were warming up on the court. The whole ride there, Oikawa was silent. He was acting like a child but you were used to it already that you paid him no mind. You knew he was just going to let it all out during the game. You were standing next to Iwaizumi, watching them practice their spikes. But let’s be honest, you were looking at your dashing husband the whole time. When you got to the venue, you immediately told Iwa the news but he wasn’t surprised because he had already seen it. You both had a good laugh over it and dismissed it. Because what was there to discuss? The whole news was just ridiculous with no proof as backup.

“(y/n),” Iwa came up to you with a clipboard in hand. “Did you-” but before he could finish that sentence, you were both rudely interrupted by a lady shoving a microphone and camera in your face.

“Iwaizumi, (y/n), do you have time for a quick interview?” she asks you. You look up at Iwa because you weren’t used to the sudden aggression. He felt how awkward you were and was the one to speak for the both of you.

“What is it about?”

“You guys look really good together. Is it true that you are both dating?” she asks and shoves the big microphone right in your face.

“No,” Iwa butts in, giving the interviewer and the camera an unamused face.

While Oikawa was focusing on his spikes, he panned over to you just so he could see you. But what he was left a bad taste in his mouth. Interviewers were all in your face. You had a painstakingly uncomfortable expression on your face and he was so tempted to just storm over there and take you away. But professionalism. Remember that. He’s trying so hard to focus back on the warmups but his ears are listening in on your interview.

His ears perk up when he hears that you and his best friend look good together. He looks back in your direction and you were being peer pressured into telling the truth and just being bombarded with unnecessary questions. That’s it. He’s had it. You were his and no one else’s.

“Come on, (y/n). Give us a statement,” the interviewer was coming into you.

“Uhm,” you felt yourself literally backing up. The answer was said to them multiple times but they kept pushing and pushing. It started to get suffocating. And no matter how many times Iwa tried to calm down the situation, it felt like it was just getting worse. All that seemed to disappear when a hand grabs your waist from behind, spins you around and a pair of lips gently cover yours. Your eyes widen in surprise as you see Oikawa passionately kissing you. In public. And on the big screen. A wave of gasps spread throughout the venue and even the interviewer was in shock. When he lets go, you are just all around flustered and Iwa is standing on the side rolling his eyes.

“Please stop pressuring MY WIFE. And please stop shipping her with my dear friend because she’s mine,” Oikawa said to the lady and straight at the camera with a polite smile but threatening eyes.

“And you!” Oikawa dramatically points at his friend and sticks up both middle fingers. “She’s mine so you can fuck off!”

“I don’t even want her, dumbass,” Iwa informs him of the obvious. Oikawa walks off with your hand in his, proud to finally let the world know that you were his and his alone.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fic #oikawa torū #oikawa oneshot #haikyuu imagine #oikawa imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fluff #anon request

469 notes · View notes

definitelynotsuzumi · 4 years ago

Text

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 4}

I can finally update now that its school break! Thank you all for your patience!

[Masterlist]

Aether wiped off a stray droplet of sweat, weaving the plant fibres into the shape of a lantern. It has only been 2 days into the festival and already, he was swamped with the task of creating more lanterns to take to people who were too far from the harbour.

“Aether, Aether look! Look at this! Doesn’t it look like Paimon?” His white-haired floating fairy chattered excitedly, waving around what looked like an amber on a stick.

“What’s that, Paimon?” Aether paused in his lantern making to give the stick a once-over.

It was artfully sculpted to look like the said fairy and it smelled incredibly sweet.

“The lady said it was Karamel! I got another for you too!” Paimon excitedly fished out a star-shaped one. Cautiously, Aether gave it a lick. It tasted warm and sweet. It reminded him of home. Lumine…

“You’ve been at that lantern for the past 2 hours. C’mon, take a small break.” While Paimon may have been wrong about several things before, Aether knew that she was right on this fact.

“Alright, let’s have a break then.”

After 3 days(and night) of walking and riding on the back of wagons, you had finally reached the gates of Liyue.

Liyue looked spectacular with the lanterns adorning every corner of the street. You were in awe. You thought it looked beautiful in the game, but in the flesh…It was more than you could ever dream of.

Each lantern had its own unique design. You could hear the drums and cymbals crashing as performers danced under a giant suit that looked like the Adepti of Liyue. The scent of grilling fish and sweets wafted through the thick hair of the harbour. It felt so homely, almost like one of the carnivals you had attended.

“Woah…Ow!” You bumped into a ginger-haired man. Tartaglia.

Cold reality slapped you across your face. The Fatui is everywhere.

“Oh! Sorry, are you alright?” Concern lit his handsome features. If you were not careful…You very much wanted to pull away your hand but you hesitantly let Tartaglia pull you up. You definitely did not want the man suspecting you about anything.

“Uhm, uh yeah sorry, I wasn’t looking. This is my first time seeing all of this…” You tried to gulp down your fear of the man.

“I feel you! Hahaha, are you new here? Well, you must be. I have not seen such a pretty lady like yourself around these parts before.” Despite your fear of the Fatui, you felt your face flush in response to his flirting.

“Yeah, very much so, I’m afraid. I’m looking for a friend of mine. About yeh high and has a white floating fairy by his side.” You gestured a rough height.

“Oh! What a small world!” Tartaglia beamed at you. He seemed so innocent as he aimed a bright and friendly smile at you, but you knew better.

“Uh…Do you know him, by any chance?”

“Know him? Well of course! I dare say that he is one of my good friends! Come, come, I’ll take you to him!”

He gestured you to follow him, and reluctantly you did so.

Tartaglia had never seen someone so shy and scared before. Is it because I am part of the Fatui?

You looked so innocent when he bumped into you at the gates. The way you gaped and looked around Liyue like you’ve never seen it before… It almost reminded him of Teucer and his sisters in Shneznaya.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. While I admit, I am not that nice of a guy, I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.” Seeing you stiffen at his words, Tartaglia felt a particularly large drop of sweat dribbling down.

Did that just backfire?

“Childe?! What are you doing here?!” A familiar high pitched voice reached your ears. You could feel her disgust all the way from your place.

Yup, that was Paimon. By her side, was Aether, with his arms akimbo.

“Relax, I mean no harm. I bumped into this cute little girlie over here and thought I’d help her out in finding you.”

“Finding us? Wait what? Who are you?” Paimon frowned.

“Uh...Uhm I’m (Y/N)…Please let me follow you on your journey!” You bowed 90 degrees, hoping you could hide the flush on your cheeks. You’ve always dreamed of this moment but now that it is in your face, you felt your tongue being weighed down by iron ore.

“What?!” The sheer shock on their faces would have been comical under other circumstances, but right now, it did not do favours for your nerves.

“If…You would let me join? I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? My dad always talks about you and I thought maybe, if I joined, he would-“

“That’s okay. Please, it would be great to celebrate the Lantern Rite with more friends.” Aether fixed you with a warm smile that felt genuine.

“How about me?” Tartaglia winked at Aether.

“No.”

Aether felt slightly apprehensive when he saw you with Tartaglia, but taking in your clothes and the lack of the Fatui insignia and signature mask on your person, he was certain that you were innocent.

“So, where are you from?” Paimon asked as your group leisurely walked through the bustling streets.

Seeing Tartaglia by your side, you decided to tell a white lie.

“Mondstadt! My dad’s an Adventurer at the guild so he’s told me all about what you did!” You definitely felt better when Aether fell in step with you, walking and talking by your side. You couldn’t help but feel bad as you realized the amount of lies you were telling was increasing.

“Wow, we’re famous!” Paimon grinned at Aether.

“Yeah! You were amazing in that battle with the Stormterror! I thought…Maybe I could grow stronger if I journeyed with you. Ah, but don’t worry, I can cook and clean-“

“You can cook?!” Paimon began to salivate.

You nodded. You were able to cook a few dishes, thanks to your Home Ec classes.

“Can we have a taste?!”

You bit your lip as you surveyed the ingredients you had. A handful of sunsettias, berries, flour, sugar, butter and half a bottle of milk. Looking at your group waiting expectantly outside of Wanmin Restaurant, you smiled.

‘Guess I’ll let them have a taste of Dorayaki.’

Xiangling had also let you borrow a little of their ingredients in case you did not have enough to feed your group. Of course, you had paid her a generous tip for lending you her ingredients.

Combining some eggs, sugar and honey that Xiangling had, you whisked it up the best you could with a fork. You carefully passed the flour through a noodle sieve into the mix. You could feel his stare piercing you from behind as you tried to focus on cooking.

Mixing it all together, you fashioned a mini ice box with your Cryo powers to rest your mix and turned to making the sweet filling. With a sharp knife, you chopped up the sunsettias and berries and sat them in a pot of sugar.

You heated the sugar and fruits together, humming a soft tune as you fished out a mandarin orange and squeezed its juices into the berry jam you had made. Sliding the jam into a clean jar, you sat it in the ice box you had made.

Taking your rested mix, you added and mixed in a tablespoon of water before readying a skillet, greasing it over with butter.

Slowly but surely, you created a stack of perfectly brown and fluffy pancakes. Taking your cool jar of sunsettia and berry jam, you spooned out equal amounts of it onto the pancakes before pressing another pancake on top.

It was done! You placed the still warm dorayaki onto 3 plates, serving it to Aether, Paimon and Tartaglia.

“Woah…It smells…Incredible!” Paimon dove into the dorayaki right away. Paimon made the dorayaki look delicious as she enthusiastically gobbled down her treat.

You noticed Xiangling’s eyes glitter as she stared down at the dorayaki. You looked down at your own share. You honestly wanted to dig in too, but seeing her doe eyes made you sigh and surrender your portion to the young female chef.

“R-Really?! I can have this?!” You nodded with a soft smile as Xiangling leapt for joy before biting down. You did not think it was possible, but the light in her eyes shone even brighter as she tasted your dish.

“Say, wanna join the Wanmin Restaurant instead?” Xiangling asked, her bright smile spreading wide across her lips and eyes.

“…I’ll have to decline, I wanna travel with Aether more!” You sheepishly turned down the offer. Aether and Tartaglia clearly enjoyed the treat as you noticed them both licking off the jam on their fingers.

“I don’t know about you, but I accept her into our travel group!” Paimon declared as Aether laughed, wiping off the last of the jam on her chin.

“Hey, how about me?” Tartaglia grinned hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Still, a no from me.”

Tartaglia then turned his attention to you, trying to use his puppy dog eyes on you.

“Hey, (Y/N), how about me?”

You silently turned away from his gaze.

“Why are you three so cruel?”

#genshin impact #genshin #impact #Genshin Impact fanfiction #childe x reader #aether x reader #paimon is emergency food #emergency food

84 notes · View notes

santacarlasweetheart · 3 years ago

Text

Back Door Man

hi! this is the first fic i have EVER written ! based on my honey @theyreonlynoodlesmike ‘s hc (that cracks me up every time) that Paul has a thing for married for women <3

Warnings: swearing, discussions of sex, paul being gross

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

An unmistakable howling laugh echoed off the walls of the cave.

David looked up from the book in his lap to see the tall, slender blonde bounding down the entry stairs. “Do I even wanna know what kinda trouble you just caused?”

Paul laughed, tossing his head back as he rocked on his heels “Oh man you guys are gonna flip-”

“At this point you couldn’t surprise us if you tried Paul.” Dwayne hadn’t turned to look away from the crate that held a portion of their vinyl collection. Kneeled down next to it and flipping through records, he was seemingly uninterested in the other man’s antics. His indifference was simply an act though, he was always willing to hear about his friends’ escapades.

“Nah nah nah, this is a new one.” Paul had made his way over to one of the couches by now, opening up the large steamer trunk that acted as both storage and a makeshift coffee table. “So,” he spoke as he dug around in the trunk, looking for his pot stash to roll himself his usual post romp joint. “I was with that babe from the diner, ya know-”

“Wow, never heard this one before.” Marko commented from beside him on the couch, cutting Paul off before he could even name the woman in question.

“Wouldya shut up and let me tell my story! Jeez, anyway,” He was bent over his rolling tray now, nimble fingers quickly moving through long practiced motions. “She takes me home. It’s this real nice place in the suburbs, cute lil’ house. So, we’re gettin’ down to business,” He wiggles his eyebrows, mostly to himself, but also on the off chance one of his friends might actually be paying attention to him “Right on the living room couch dude, she didn’t even bother to take me to the bedroom.”

“Nice.” Marko says and at the same time David sighs out “Gross.”

“Yo, Dwayne you want me to roll you one before I put this shit away?” Paul paused his story, he might have been Santa Carla’s biggest sleaze but he always had manners when it came to his friends.

“Yes please.” The brunette responded as he finally settled on a record, standing up from where he'd been crouching. “Might make your grossness a little easier to stomach.” A smile tugged at his lips as he turned to join them in the sitting area.

“So,” Paul huffed out a laugh, both at Dwayne’s response and the direction his story was going in. “I’m like, straight up goin’ to town on her,” He leans back in his seat, tipping his head back as he raises his voice for emphasis. “She’s screaming, clawin’ at my back and shit. Like a damn cat in heat. And then.” He pauses to lick the joint between his fingers and pass it to Dwayne. David rolled his eyes at the lull. He thought after sixty-something years he’d be used to Paul’s inability to smoothly tell a story, but that day was yet to come. “And then I hear somethin’, sounds like a car pulling up in front of the house. I dont really think anything of it because fuck if I care right?” He pauses yet again to put his own joint into his mouth, light it and take his first hit. “I keep goin’. I’m tryna get my rocks off after all. She’s tugging at my hair and shit. She's got this absolute vice grip on my-”

“PLEASE don’t say dick.”

“My waist, you fuckin’ pervert,” And if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black. “Absolutely screaming my name, the neighbors could probably hear.”

“Paul,” Marko said, turning in his seat on the couch so he could look at his best friend. “This sounds exactly like every other sexcapde you’ve ever told us about.” As Marko was chastising him, Paul had started to shrug out of his jacket, and that’s when the dark brown splotch on the shoulder of his white shirt came into view. “Is that fucking blood!?” Marko was painfully aware of the way his voice came out almost like a screech.

David’s head actually snapped up at that, tossing his book into his chair and moving to sit on the arm of the sofa in one fluid motion. “Jesus Christ, Paul.”

Dwayne looked over at the three blondes, his brown eyes gone wide and his brows knitted together in concern.

Paul barked out a laugh, “I'm getting there you dipshits! Also, I’m obviously fine, creature of the night just like you three. Remember?” His companions relaxed slightly, he did have a point after all. However, he now had their full attention. “Where was I? Oh yeah yeah, I’m nailing her and suddenly. The fuckin’ front door opens.”

David pinches the bridge of his nose.

Marko’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. He was pretty sure he knew where this story was going.

“Oh man!” Dwayne was starting to giggle as he leaned back into his chair.

“It’s her god damn husband,” Pauls talking with his hands now, the way he always does when he starts getting to the good part of his stories. As he gestures, Marko plucks the joint from between his fingers and takes a drag. “Not boyfriend, not fiancé. Husband. He was supposed to be on a business trip or some shit I don’t know. Point is, he was home early and he was pissed.”

“He walked in on you screwing his wife,” David interjected as he slid his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Of course he’s pissed.” The other three men snickered at his remark.

“Dude starts screaming. At me, at her, oh my god it was madness. I’ve never pulled out so fast in my life.”

Dwayne chokes on the smoke he had been pulling into his lungs and doubles over, laughing between coughs. “Ya know what,” He says as he rests his cheek against his knee, “For some reason I believe you.”

“He got outta that pussy at warp speed.” Marko giggled quietly.

“Hey, hey hey!” Paul said as he turned to Marko, taking the last hit off the joint. “It’s my story, I’m the one with the jokes here.”

“Can we please get to why you're bleeding.” David said, gesturing at Paul’s shoulder.

“Yeah yeah, grouchy bitch.” He drops the roach into the closest ashtray, settling into the couch to finish the rest of his story. “I grab my shit and I’m tryna get outta there. Zero interest in being in the middle of the start of the divorce-”

“Like you’re not the reason for the divorce.”

“Pants on, shoes on, shirt halfway on, jackets in my hand. There was no way in hell I was gonna get between them, so I turned my happy ass around, go to the kitchen. Hopin’ and prayin’ this place has a back door-” Paul’s abruptly cut off by Marko barking out a laugh.

“I’m a back door man!” The smallest blonde belts out, poorly and off key.

“Imma. Back. Door. Man!” Dwayne joins in, tilting his head back with his eyes shut. Like he’s singing to the ceiling of the cave.

David can’t help the little smirk that forms on his face, hearing his friends poorly belting out The Doors’ version of what they had decided was Paul’s song. Paul is currently grinning like a maniac and isn't bothered by yet another interruption of his story. “Okay, okay. Get on with it.”

“Right yeah, we’re comin’ to the end here. Thank the lord in Heaven, there was in fact a back door. A screen backdoor that slammed behind me, you guys know how fucking loud those things are.” Paul sighs. “I take off, climb the fence, but “Mr. Can’t Satisfy His Wife” comes out behind me, onto the porch. Next thing I know, I hear a gunshot.”

“Sweet Christ.” David mumbles.

“He fucking shot you Paul?” Marko practically growls. Paul looks over at him nonchalantly and nods, smirking ever so slightly at Marko’s protective rage.

“Dude.” Dwayne says as he adjusts himself in his chair yet again, “You gotta stop sleeping with married women.”

“Not a chance in hell Dwayne-O.” Paul says, his face splitting into a full grin, like he's the cat that got the cream.

#hi katherine i jacked some of your formatting for the text post xo #mine #the lost boys

90 notes · View notes

sylphidine · 3 years ago

Text

[FIC] Call Signs, Chapter 3

Fandom: Deltarune

Pairing: Swatch / Spamton

Rating: Mature

Summary: Three college basketball teammates get an obnoxious new roommate. Fortunately none of them take the same classes, so Swatch can avoid the guy while mooning over a mysterious new DJ at the campus radio station. A Swatchton human college/university AU.

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

Spamton tried to stop his hands from shaking, using an exercise his therapist had suggested. He clasped his left wrist between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. He lay flat on his back in bed in his dorm room, where he’d retreated after he and his roommates got back from eating pizza at Luigi’s.

He had blown it, not even two hours into what was supposed to have been his new life.

He was not going to get a second chance to make a good first impression.

And oh, how he'd wanted to impress them.

No, not impress them… he'd wanted them to like him. He'd wanted to start down the path to having friends instead of sycophants and hangers-on.

He’d wanted to be around people who didn’t give a damn that he was an Addison.

But he'd opened his mouth and the same old garbage noise came pouring out.

He'd actually asked that girl if she was related to the Tanners of Old Westbury. Just because she was blonde.

Worse, he'd made the mistake of joking about Catechu’s name sounding like something out of POKEMON. He’d meant to follow it up with mocking himself for having a ridiculous first name, but stopped dead and fell silent when he saw the expression on Swatch’s face. Or more accurately, the lack of expression.

He couldn’t have just relaxed?

Instead, he’d slid right into salesman mode, trotting out lame icebreaker phrases.

He couldn’t blame the four of them cutting him off and essentially monopolizing the rest of the dinner conversation about professors he’d never get to meet and authors he’d never heard of.

At least he’d picked up on what everyone’s pronouns were, and filed them away mentally. Tabitha [no, not Tabitha, and definitely not Tabby, call her T.M. or else get your eyes scratched out] was “she/her”, Indigo and Catechu were both “he/him”, and Swatch was “they/them”.

And Swatch was gorgeous. That long jawline, those solemn eyes, those feathery curls.

Not to say that the twins weren’t gorgeous, too, with their more practical fades. But Swatch…

Spamton was doomed.

He let his hand go when he felt the shakes finally stop.

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

T.M. leaned her elbows on the kitchen island while Swatch divided up the rest of the pizza they’d taken home. They put her portion in an oversized ziplock baggie, already having marked it with the words “Sicilian - reheat at 2 minutes 37 seconds on half power” and the date. After a decade of friendship, Swatch knew exactly how T.M. liked things… organized, neat, and labeled. Easily classifiable. The two had that in common, although she was far more strident about it than they were.

She said now, “Where in the world did Housing dig up that little weirdo, and how did you guys get stuck with him?”

Swatch finished with the other three baggies and put them in the refrigerator, taking their time before they answered. “I haven’t a clue. My cousins put a request in for this unit first and added me later; I thought this building was mostly for extracurriculars.”

“If you mean ‘jocks’, Swatch, say ‘jocks’. You don’t need to be vague with me.”

“I’m not trying to be either vague or coy, Moggy.” She made a pleased noise in her throat at the nickname that only Swatch was allowed to use, as they continued. “I think for some reason his family must have paid for him to end up here.”

“Because Overlook’s got the strictest RAs? Curfews, spot checks for drug use, sign-in and sign-outs in the lobby?”

“Indeed.”

“Indeed, indeed,” T.M. countered mockingly. “Sometimes I think you’re the one who should be going into the hotel business, not just Indo and Catto. I love when you get all proper and huffy.”

“I am NOT huffy!” protested Swatch. “I just don’t like surprises, and having to adjust to living with someone I don’t know is one surprise I didn’t want to deal with this year.”

T.M. crinkled her big blue eyes in sympathy and came around the island to give Swatch a squeeze, her head reaching just to their shoulder. “I know, Birdman. We all miss Fairlight, but she’s out of pain now.”

Swatch wrapped their long arms around their best friend and laid their head on top of her pussycat bow. “Thanks for being you, Moggy.”

They escorted T.M. to the elevator like the gentleman they were. A few minutes later, when Swatch came back into the apartment, they noticed that all the bedroom doors were closed.

Indigo was in the living room watching NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM for what must have been the hundredth time. He waved Swatch over to the couch and answered their unasked question. “Catto’s back is still bugging him after all that stair-climbing, so he crashed. New guy beat it to his own room, no clue what he’s up to.”

They felt a moment’s sympathy for Spamton. It must have seemed like four against one, remembering how the dinner conversation had gotten awkward, but they couldn’t help the bonds they already had. The kid was just going to have to make some bonds of his own.

And why were they still thinking of him as “kid”? Spamton had to be at least in his junior year if he’d gotten a slot in Overlook Hall, family influence or not, which meant he was at least Swatch’s age, if not older than they were, since he was a transfer student.

Damn. Their curiosity was not going to leave them alone until they Googled Spamton.

But in the meantime Jedediah was bickering with Octavius again, and Swatch and Indigo groaned at the screen at the same time, “Just kiss already!”

#sylph writes #swatchton #spamton #swatch #swatchton au

10 notes · View notes

fortisfiliae · 4 years ago

Text

Promised Part 12 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage; it gets a bit sexy, but nothing explicit

Word count: 2.7k

Part 12 - Pillow Talk and Butterbeer

After you had gotten the Foxgloves in Diagon Alley, the only thing you could do for the antidote was to wait. Wait for Nagini to shed and wait for the end of March to arrive, so you could go to the Gaunt manor and look for a flask of Banshee tears. Meanwhile, the cauldron simmered safely in the Come and Go Room. You had to stir it frequently and skim off the foam that built up, so it required a good portion of your time, which was quite worrisome. How would you be able to keep that up when school would start again and you were occupied attending classes? Of course, Tom and you could alternate in doing those tasks, but you didn’t want to bother him with all that constantly. He had to attend to his duties as head boy on top of everything, after all. Well, there had to be a way. It would be manageable somehow.

Even though Hogwarts was almost empty and there weren’t many people around, you hadn’t felt lonely. Not even a bit. Tom and you had gotten closer over the week. Even closer than before and he still showed no signs of annoyance towards you. Which surprised you. You would have thought that he liked to keep to himself a lot, and wouldn’t want to spend a lot of time with someone else, regardless of who it was. But that suspicion turned out to be untrue. Tom had followed you to tend to the potion every single time you had gone there, even if you hadn’t asked him to. He stuck to you like a magnet, which was strange at first, but once you had figured out that he just seemed to thoroughly enjoy your company, you let him.

When the two of you weren’t in the Come and Go Room, or studied for the upcoming semester, you spent your time in bed a lot. The meaning of ‘enjoying the holidays’ suddenly had a different ring to it. You still had not gotten used to his touch, his scent, his faint whisper in your ear. But if you were honest, you didn’t want to ever get used to it. It was too exciting to get that rush, the way your heart started racing, every time his fingers brushed across your skin. Every time your name fell from his lips and when his eyes lingered on your figure when you lay beneath him. Those smiles, rare and subtle, he graced you with between the sheets. No, you would never get used to that.

And Tom had started to talk more. Granted, still not as much as any other person you knew, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. One rainy day, he even opened up and talked about his family. You held hands beneath the blanket, one of your legs was sprawled over him and you had just put your head into a comfortable position between Tom’s shoulder and the cushion, when he just began, out of nowhere.

“Do you remember when you asked me about my parents?” he said. “In your room, at Christmas.”

Your head propped up again so that you could look at him. “I do. Why?”

“Well,” he paused and looked back into your eyes, his voice low and plain. “Do you want to know what happened?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

He laid his head onto the pillow and looked up towards the ceiling while he bit the inside of his cheek.

“My Mother,” he began. “She fell in love with him, Tom Riddle, when she was seventeen. He was a muggle. Filthy and worthless, even though his family was rich. Merlin knows what she saw in him.”

The thought that him being a muggle didn’t define his Father’s worth came to your mind, but it wasn’t your time to speak now.

“He didn’t love her back,” Tom went on. “At least not as much as she wanted him to, apparently. Morfin, her brother, had just finished his schooling for Potion’s mastery, so she snuck into his chambers one night and stole one of his love potions.”

This story wasn’t going to end well. Most love potions, the ones that weren’t sold in joke shops, which were diluted and only meant to last for a few minutes, were illegal. You had learned about the most dangerous ones during Slughorn’s class in sixth year, so that you were able to detect them. One of them, the most powerful one, had attracted everyone’s attention back then. The potion alone was infatuating, even if one had not consumed it yet. Its scent had drawn in every person in the classroom, as it smelled different to everyone, based on what the person liked. You still remembered that striking feeling of needing to take the potion yourself. Obsession was the best way to describe it. All rationality had left you once Slughorn had lifted the cauldron’s cover. No one seemed in their right mind anymore. The mere thought of being at someone’s mercy, without even knowing it, was frightening.

“Amortentia?” you asked.

Tom nodded and you could feel one of his legs bouncing up and down. His voice still was indifferent, as if he was telling you just another irrelevant story.

“She drugged him with it and didn’t tell her family. They wouldn’t have tolerated a muggle as her husband of course. But they secretly got married and when she was pregnant, she broke the charm, thinking he would love her anyway.”

“And?” you asked, hoping that the answer would be different from what you anticipated.

“He didn’t love her obviously. And he ran from her. Left her. Can’t even blame him.”

“He left her when she was pregnant?”

Tom nodded and your heart sank for him. Even though his father’s actions were understandable to an extent, you couldn’t imagine what it must feel like being so unwanted by one of your parents that they would have left before you were even born.

“What happened to her then?” you asked.

“She died while giving birth to me. At least that’s what Marvolo told me.”

“You don’t think she’s dead?”

“Oh, yes I do. I don’t think she died from giving birth.”

“Do you think he… That Marvolo… Killed her?”

Tom shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling. “Possibly. I could see why he would have done it.”

Everyone who knew Marvolo could probably see him do that. That man was evil, to say the least, and seemed to enjoy it when others suffered. But killing his own daughter was something you hadn’t thought anyone, not even the worst person on earth, was able to do without hesitation.

Silence had fallen over the room. You could hear Tom breathing, still collected and slow, contrary to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for lack of a better word and held his hand tighter.

“It’s alright,” he answered, his voice sounding like he was the one consoling you when it should have been the other way around. “I have no memory of them. It’s not like I miss her.”

Could you miss someone you never really met? Probably not, you thought. But it was definitely possible to know you missed out.

“And your father?” you asked. “Do you know where he is now?”

Tom let out a sharp breath through his nose as if he was suppressing a laugh. “I don’t think he’s alive either. They never told me, but I assume Marvolo took care of him as well.”

You sighed at his response, turned to lie on your side and rested your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hand leaving his, to hold on to his upper arm.

There had been so much harm, so much betrayal in his life, even before he could have done something to prevent it. No wonder he behaved the way he did. There had never been hope. He never stood a chance.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you mumbled. “Do you wish it could have been different? If you had gotten to know them.”

“You and your wishful thinking,” he said and you could hear the smile in his tone. “I never thought about it. It wouldn’t change reality. It would just make me mad.”

You nodded as a silent way of approval, your fingertips tracing patterns on the curve of his shoulder.

“I do wonder, however,” Tom said and lifted your chin with his hand, so he could look into your eyes. “What my father felt when she put him under her spell with Amortentia.”

His gaze darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his fingers still holding up your chin when you blinked.

“The closest thing to love, I assume,” you answered, a breath stuck in your throat. “The replica of it at least, as hollow as it may be.”

Tom still looked at you with a glare as sharp as a butcher knife. He sucked in a breath, pondering, and parted his lips, about to say something. Before he could though, he leaned closer, pinned you down to the mattress and kissed you, his hand wandering from your chin to your neck.

An owl from Camille arrived on one of the last days of the break. Her letter made you smile as you walked across Tom’s room and read it.

“Camille wants to meet up on Sunday, when she’ll be back,” you told Tom, still skimming across her lines. “They are official now, Ben and her.”

“Alright then,” Tom said absentmindedly, his nose in one of the books from the library.

“She asked for you to come too.”

His head rose in confusion. “Me? Why?”

“I think she wants us to go on a double date,” you chuckled. “To the Three Broomsticks. Sunday at five.”

No matter how sure you were of how much Tom enjoyed your presence, he absolutely wasn’t entertaining the idea of spending time with Ben Hilt. And about that, he was very clear. He had asked you a couple of times if you were sure that Camille meant for him to come and had tried many ways of escaping that date, but alas, you dragged him there.

“Four Butterbeers,” Ben ordered after you had sat down at a table together.

Ben sat opposite to Tom, who was more than obviously annoyed by the fact he even had to be there. You patted his thigh, ordering him to behave, to which Tom eyed you seriously. Camille and you both bit back the smirks on your faces, while Ben tried his best to be friendly.

“So,” he said, looking at Tom and you. “How were the holidays?”

“Mind your own business,” Tom murmured, which luckily no one but you had heard.

“Good,” you spoke over him and pushed your elbow against Tom’s side. “Quiet. Not many people around.”

“Oh, you stayed in school, didn’t you?” Ben asked. “You both?”

Tom didn’t answer and looked back at Ben without a hint of emotion on his face. You nodded and smiled.

“How about you?“ you asked. „What have you done? Have you met up?”

“Oh, yes we did,” Camille said. “Ben introduced himself to my parents and then took me to the cinema.”

“Cinema?” Tom and you asked simultaneously.

You had heard of cinemas before of course. But you had never been. Movies were a muggle invention, and even though it sounded tempting, you had never had a chance to go.

“Yes,” Camille confirmed. “We watched ‘Dead of Night’. That’s what it’s called, right?”

Ben nodded as he swung his arm around Camille’s shoulder. “Horror movies. My favourite.”

“Why would you do that?” Tom asked and took his cup from the server, who had come up with your order. “Go to the cinema. That’s such a muggle thing to do.”

“Oh, you’ve never been, huh?” Ben asked. “None of you have, have you?”

“You should have seen his face when I told him,” Camille laughed. She had, similar to you, grown up in a pureblood family as well.

“And you should’ve seen mine when I went to her house,” Ben added. “I’m still not used to wizard’s homes, you know. They’re so different. I like them.”

Tom stiffened next to you.

“You’re muggleborn?” he asked, his mouth agape.

“Indeed mate. Didn’t you know?”

“You’re a mu-… muggleborn,” Tom stammered and looked over to Camille. “But you, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Camille said, a baffled smile on her face.

Tom still had a hard time believing what he had just heard. “And you… You two. Even though…”

“Tom,” you whispered, trying to escape both Camille and Ben’s amused looks, and patted him on the thigh again.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat and motioned with his hand. “I just. I didn’t know.”

“Well now you do,” Ben shrugged before taking a big sip of his butterbeer. “Best of both worlds, am I right?”

“Right,” you said when Tom didn’t answer.

Changing the subject seemed necessary, but you couldn’t think of anything worth talking about. The only thing you had been doing was tending to the potion, and that was something you would rather keep a secret.

“The worst thing is that none of you folks have phones at home,” Ben went on.

“Phones?” Tom asked.

“Telephones. You can call other people and talk to them.”

“I wish I had one,” said Camille. “I told my father about it and he thinks it’s a great idea. Maybe we’ll get one of those ‘phones’.”

That was interesting. To talk to someone directly, even if they weren’t there? No apparating, no Floo Network. Muggles might have been weak, but they sure knew how to handle their handicaps.

“Why would you need to do that?” Tom asked. “Talk to someone on the phone.”

“Well, it spares a lot of time. No need for owls or letters. You just pick it up from the hook and speak.”

Tom seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But owls do the job just fine.”

“Not as quickly,” Ben grinned.

“Well, then I’ll send an urgent owl if I need my message to arrive sooner.”

Ben stifled a laugh and took another drink. “I mean, of course, mate.”

“I think it’s interesting,” you said. “And you only hear the voice of the other person? You can’t see them, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Fascinating,” you mumbled. “What other things do you have that we don’t?”

Ben looked into his cup for a moment and hummed. “Well, muggles invented the train, which we all use to go to school.”

“Oh,” Camille gasped. “Wait until he tells Tom about cars.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Of course I know about cars.”

“Have you driven one?” Ben asked.

“No. Obviously not.”

“You should one day,” Ben gushed. “My father got a 1943 Bentley recently. Technically I’m not allowed to drive it, because I don’t have a license. But I’ve seen Father drive a lot. So I borrowed the car one night and it was life-changing.”

Tom took a drink and raised one brow. “I’d rather just apparate.”

“Yes, that’s great too. But it doesn’t have the same feeling. It’s really liberating. And much more comfortable than brooms. I could take you all on a ride someday in summer. The car fits four people.”

“Why?” Tom asked before you could agree.

Ben raised his eyebrows again, a smile still plastered on his face. “For fun?”

“For fun,” Tom repeated and looked at you as if to ask you what Ben was trying to tell him.

“You should do more things just for fun, mate,” Ben chuckled. “Might help against that constant frown.”

Camille and you laughed quietly, both turning your faces away from the boys and you bit your tongue. Tom straightened his posture, his eyes darting across the table, apparently thinking hard.

“We’ll see about that,” he said and raised his glass. “Mate.”

Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Let me know if you want to be tagged, or untagged. Thank you for reading!

Permanent tags: @geeksareunique @ren-ela @marauderskeeper @way-obsessed5 @oreofrappiewithblueberry @draqcnheartstrinq @dogfatherpads @obscurilicious @maralisa124 @theseuscmander @lumos-barnes @theboywhocriedlupin @igotmadskills @jamcspotters @thisismysecrethappyplace @vulpecula-minor @snarledblack @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @fandomtravels @heartbeats-wildly @clockworkherondale @aikeia @i-padfootblack-things @emmamass24 @sleep-i-ness @miss-theya @gruffle1 @pcseidcnsvoid @buckysblueeyes-18 @angelinathebook

Promised tags: @superblyspeedydragon @angeli-fucking-cat @cyarikaaa @hp-slaps @prettylittlehiddles @katjusja @elderwilliams @-thatgirloverthere- @1950schick @kissing-violet-wings @accio-boys @mythicalamphitrite @aqswdefrgthzjukilop @always394patronus @nesseldee @peachyserenade @iliveforthefandom04 @chr0nicbackpain @truly-insatiable @blushingpogue @scarlet-says-hi @staplerrrr @uglipotata72829 @muralskins @noobmaster696969 @urbankite2 @prettysatan @april-showers-and-flowers @etherrxall @slytherclawmalfoy @thoseofgreatambition @officiallyunofficialperson @lettersfromtheocean @whyisallthecoolstufftaken @eternitydarkling @blisfvll @hufflautia @weasleybees @katieakamine @myblissfulparadise @delicrieux @atlanticowe @stellariddle @princessria127 @random-fangirl001 @lovie-recs @angelic-blxssom @fuzzycloudsz @ladyblablabla @kisaraginami @ourstarsailor

If your tags don’t work, please check if your email is verified on tumblr, and/or check your blog’s visibility settings. If your blog hidden from search results, I can’t tag you.

486 notes · View notes