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chuubacca-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! Could I request a smut of Barbatos smut? Oh with male reader. Possessive Barbatos tailfucking his lover?

A/N - sorry it took so long! I just moved and also depression is a bitch. anyway, I did my best here. I've never written for a male reader before but it's such a hard thing to find that I decided to give it a go. The formatting is kinda rough because I wrote this on mobile but i hope I did okay!

Pairing - Barbatos x Male!reader

Summary - Barbatos sees a hickey on your neck and is overcome with the need to claim you as his.

Warnings - SMUT, minors dni, amab reader, male appendages, anal sex, tail play (wtf do you even call that?) handjobs, hickeys, choking (kinda, barb puts his fingers in your mouth), name-calling (reader gets called slut once), lmk if I missed any

Word Count - 1722

Barbatos was restless. It wasn’t a familiar feeling for the demon. he was used to being calm, put together, and stoic. But he couldn’t keep his mind focused on his duties. He nearly spilled Prince Diavlo’s tea. Barbatos never fumbled with tea. It was all because of you. You had come by to have tea with him and the demon prince like you did every once and a while. He always liked it when you came over, it gave him an excuse to sneak sly glances at you when you weren’t looking.

That's what brings us to today. The tea kettle had almost slipped from the demon's gloved fingers and crashed into the young prince’s cup when Barbatos’ sharp eyes caught on the way the collar of your shirt just barely concealed a dark purple bruise at the junction of your shoulder.

A bruise that looked suspiciously like a hickey.

“Are you alright, Barbatos?” Diavlo asked. the prince’s brows furrowed at the uncharacteristic clumsiness of his loyal butler.

Barbatos recovered quickly, his composure sliding easily back into place. “Of course, no need to worry about me,” he reassured with a tight smile. But his mind was racing. Who could have put their hands on you? Which demon took what was his? It sickened him to think about anyone other than him touching you, kissing you, tasting you.

He had to excuse himself from tea that day, unable to look at you without his gaze immediately zoning in on the hickey.

The next time you arrive for tea, Diavlo is nowhere to be found, it's only Barbatos smiling politely and inviting you inside. Even you can tell there’s something different in his smile, but you happily join him for tea anyway.

You watch as Barbatos gestures to the table with an unusually tense smile. you hear the soft click of the lock and turn to see his long, gloved fingers on the doorknob.

“Barbatos what–” you start, confused.

He’s towering over you in a split second, eyes glowing with a possessiveness you’ve never seen before.

His hand hovering over the crook of your neck, the soft fabric of his gloves ghosting over your skin.

You’re breaths come out shallow, eyes blown wide as you stare at the man in front of you.

“What are–”

“Undress.”

Again your words are cut short by his rough voice. the command sending electricity straight between your legs.

Barbatos noticed the growing tent in your pants and his lips curled into a smug smirk. He shook his head, still smiling wickedly. “I’m waiting…”

You have no idea what came over you, but you stood and feverishly scrambled to tear your clothes off.

Barbatos chuckled. his sharp eyes catching on every little detail of your body when you finally stood naked before him. His smirk fell when his gaze landed on that bruise on your neck. He stepped closer. his boots made heavy, dominant thuds as he stalked ever closer to your already trembling body. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and you melt into the feeling, your head pressing into his touch. He would have thought it cute, and endearing if he wasn’t so irritated. Do you give away your affection so easily? Let demons leave hickeys upon your tender, human flesh without a thought? That luxury should belong to him and him alone.

His thumb brushes along your bottom lip and you assume he’s going to pull you into a kiss until he pushes his gloved finger between your teeth. You look up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Take them off,” Barbatos growls and it takes you a moment to realize he means his gloves. Your teeth bite down on the tip of the glove, careful not to graze his finger. You tug, and he replaces his thumb with his index finger. You repeat the process until his glove falls from your mouth and his bare hand is again grasping the side of your face.

“Good boy.” He purrs before his hand moves to wrap around your throat and pull you close. close enough for his lips to meet yours in a rough kiss. The sound that comes out of you is undignified, but your eyes flutter closed when his forked tongue pushes its way into your mouth. Your hands instinctively move to tangle in his hair, but something wraps around your wrists and pulls them behind your back. You open your eyes to see that he has shifted into his demon form, his tail binding your wrists. Barbatos pulls away, his eyes practically glowing at the sight of you. lips red and kiss-swollen, panting, hair disheveled, completely bare in front of him.

“You look pathetic.” Barbatos observes, but his tone is amused, especially when you whine and pout and say “‘s your fault…”

He hums in acknowledgment, his hands moving to grip your hips and drag you into a sitting position– on his lap.

A whine escapes your throat when your erection rubs against his knee. precum smearing on his dark slacks.

“Look at you… making a mess.” he mused, his hand tangling in your hair and tugging your head back, exposing your neck. Now he gets to leave some of his own hickeys. His tongue dances along the column of your throat, teeth nipping and biting to wrench whimpers from your pretty lips. “Barbatos… please,” you beg. your neglected dick is throbbing for some sort of friction, hips bucking into the air of their own accord.

The demon simply chuckles at your predicament, tail still stubbornly wrapped around your wrists so you can’t take matters into your own hands. “You think you deserve to be touched? After all the teasing you put me through.”

Before you can ask “What teasing?” he’s flicking open a bottle in his free hand. You have no idea where or when he got lube, but you could care less about the logistics.

“But I need to see your face when I finally wreck you, so I’ll give in for now.”

He uncoils his tail from your wrists and shifts his legs so that you’re straddling him. He allows you to anchor yourself by holding onto his shoulders.

“Be a good boy and keep them there,” he orders. You nod. Something cold and wet presses against your ass, making you gasp and jolt into him, surprised. He lets out an amused sound, setting down the bottle of lube and letting his hand settle on your hip. You could see both of his hands, so what was–

You bite back a lewd groan when the tip of his tail pushes past the tight rim of your ass. Barbatos’s hand moves to wrap around your throat again, clicking his tongue.

“I want to hear all the noises you make, don’t you dare hold them back.”

His tail pushes deeper, brushing against your prostate. Your toes curl and you yelp, your face burying into Barbatos’s shoulder. Curses slip from your lips as Barbatos starts thrusting his tail in and out, setting a brutal pace that makes you arch and curl into him.

You uttered his name like a prayer, ironic, seeing as he’s a demon, but it sounded so sweet on your tongue. Barbatos grunted when your hand slipped from his shoulder, dragging down his chest and landing directly on his crotch, right up against his erection. It had been completely an accident, and when you noticed, you squeaked out an apology that sounded half-hearted with the way your voice tapered off into a whine.

Barbatos licked his lips, eyes alight with pure sin. The way he gripped your throat like you belonged to him. the way his fingers pushed against your tongue in punishment. the way his voice vibrated in his chest as he ordered you to “suck.”

You obeyed, of course. Lips closing around his digits and eyes rolling back when his tail rubbed against that sensitive spot inside you. His free hand wrapped around the base of your aching cock. at the same time, his fingers push deeper into your throat. You gag, tears pricking your eyes as a choked cry barely makes it out of your mouth.

“Getting close?” Barbatos asks, his sadistic grin and lust-blown eyes boring into you. You nod frantically, tears slipping past your waterline.

“Do you think a slut like you deserves to cum?” he growls, his hand squeezes your cock, pumping fast. You were going to cum if he kept at it. You tried to warn him by digging your nails into his shoulders, but he only sped up. His tail thrusting and his fist pumping. You let go with a strangled sob of his name, your hips bucking into his hand as you painted his shirt white.

Surprisingly gentle, Barbatos removed his fingers from your mouth. He slowly pulled his tail out of your abused hole, tenderly setting you down on a chair. Your brain was still hazy from your orgasm, barely able to keep your head up. You blinked down at Barbatos as the butler cleaned you up. he was already dressed in a fresh shirt and pants, looking as clean and professional as always. as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out.

“Was I too rough?” he asked softly, helping you pull your pants back on.

You shook your head, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, a lovesick grin on your face. he smiles, his hands softly trailing along your chest. his fingers pause over the bruise on your shoulder. your eyes followed his gaze.

"like my bruise?" you asked, "mammon dropped a book on me when we were cleaning the library." your lips curled up at the memory. Barbatos stared at you for a moment before clearing his throat and handing your shirt back to you. "of course…"

you raised a brow, observing him inquisitively. you put the pieces together, a sly smile spreading across your face. "did you think it was a hickey? is that why you got all possessive of me?" you blushed and pursed your lips, giving him big puppy dog eyes. "of course not!" Barbatos insisted, but there was a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. you tugged on your shirt, standing and wrapping your arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to the demon's lips. "don't worry, Barbatos. I'm all yours…"

#clover's ☘︎ fics #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me shall we date #om! barbatos

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dontfindmerain · 1 year ago

Text

hotel room

summary: about 800 words, short little drabble on the one bed trope with wilbur. Wilbur and reader are very close friends. for the lovely @toiletwipes <3

not proof read sns

a/n: sorry if the formatting is weird, I wrote this at work on mobile :')

Wilbur was an idiot. Plain and simple. An absolute fool. What other explanation could there be for this situation he had put you both in?

Wilbur had been the one to suggest booking a hotel room instead of driving a few hours back to your american friend's apartment. He found a nice enough place and all for a pretty good price. He only made one mistake.

There was only one damn bed. Even worse, it was just a tad too small for you to both fit comfortably without being rather close.

"Wilbur, what the hell are we going to do now?" you laughed at him, his face was proper flushed, muttering something about how he was tired when he booked the room.

"I didn't think to check, I had assumed there would be two beds," he glared at you as you continued to giggle, "It's not that funny darling, if you keep laughing I might just make you sleep on the floor." You stopped and gaped at him.

"Uh-uh, nope, you fucked up, you're sleeping on the floor. It's either that or we'll have to share it.." you trailed off as your face heated at the thought.

It's not like it would be the end of the world. Only it was. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked Wilbur a lot. Much more than the friendship you currently shared. Wilbur didn't need to know that, though. Him and his stupidly cute face..

He smirked at you and teased, "Oh yeah? I'm sure you'd like that a lot, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He stepped closer to you, and your eyes focused on the ground, finding it very interesting at this moment.

His hand lifted your chin up to face him before leaning in to whisper in your ear, "Go on darling, use your words."

Your face became impossibly flushed, stuttering while attempting to find the right thing to say. Wilbur had always been flirty with you, but this seemed different. He stepped back, laughing and shaking his head.

"I'm just teasing you, my love, I'll sleep on the floor since it was me who-"

"No, we can share. It's fine," you cut him off speaking quickly. You covered your mouth as soon as the words escaped. Shit. There is no way you just said that out loud.

He smiled at you a little confused, "Alright then, whatever you like. I'll take the bags while you get changed, yeah?"

Your mind was racing, but you managed a nod, grabbing a large t-shirt and some rather short shorts. After practically running to the bathroom and changing, you headed back over to Wilbur.

He had already gotten ready for bed and was scrolling through his phone, waiting for you to join him. You cautiously slid into bed beside him, trying to give him enough room, but barely having any yourself.

"Seriously, love?" Wilbur chuckled, motioning for you to come closer, "Come here, you're going to fall." You obliged, scooting next to him and getting comfortable as he wraps his arms around you. You were blushing intensely, his scent enveloping you. He tangled his legs with yours so that neither of you were hanging off the edge and brought you even closer to him.

If that wasn't enough to make you flustered, what he did next definitely was.

He squeezed you gently and pressed a kiss onto your forehead, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He chuckled when your breath hitched, knowing the effect he had on you.

"Darling, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you might have a fever from how warm you're getting," he spoke lowly, teasing again, "Would you like to explain yourself?"

Once again, you were at a loss for words, as if he had stolen them from you. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy as he pulled back to look at you again.

"Hmm, struggling, are we? Gods, you're adorable, you know that?" He smiled, glancing down at your lips.

Somehow, that snapped you out of your speechless state. "I am not adorable! I am a menace to society! How dare you even sugg-"

He cut off your ramble with a kiss, cautious at first and then confident when you kissed him back. His hands traveled from your back down to your hips and squeezing. You gasped, mouth opening and he took the opportunity to explore you further.

When you finally pulled back for air, looking up at him, his pupils were blown wide, face red and lips swollen. He smiled so big his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that, my love?"

"Yeah? I dont know, maybe you should kiss me again just so I can be sure," you smiled back at him, closing the short distance between the two of you once more.

You guessed it was safe to say he liked you back. He was still an idiot, no doubt. But he was your idiot.

#mosslovestherain #moss writes #wipes my beloved #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur soot fluff #fluffy fluff fluff #one bed trope

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vanillael · 6 months ago

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ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴ

Bruce plans a date with Y/N but ends up not going.

Y/N was in her bedroom picking out an outfit for her date night with Bruce. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw him, so she tried to look her best. It was almost like getting ready for their first date again, except they’re already 1 year into the relationship.

She wanted to impress him, but also subtly show him everything he’s missed. She wore her best fitted dress, curled the ends of her hair and wore bold makeup.

Y/N and Bruce’s relationship was complicated. Of course it was complicated, she’s literally dating Batman! They can go weeks or even months without seeing each other.

It’s actually not Y/N fault, she tries her best to keep the relationship going. She wants to make sure it never gets awkward the few times they actually meet.

Bruce however sometimes forgets he’s in a relationship. He’ll get reminded every once in a while when Y/N sends him a scandalous picture.

Y/N knew getting into a relationship with Batman would mean little spare time just for them to hang, but she wasn't expecting it to be so little.

She looks at the mirror and giggles. Who wouldn’t be happy to see their boyfriend after a long time?

She picks up her phone and sends Bruce a message.

“I’m leaving the house now, can’t wait to see you ❤”

She nervously bites her lip before taking one quick glimpse at the mirror and walks towards the door.

AT THE RESTAURANT

Because Y/N and Bruce had a reserved table at the restaurant, Y/N was allowed in to wait inside. She ordered a glass of water and slowly sipped on it patiently waiting for Bruce.

The time was already 9 PM and Bruce was supposed to be there, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Y/N didn’t want to seem annoying so she assumed he was running a bit late.

The time was now nearing 10 PM. She was more worried than upset so she wrote to Bruce in hopes he’ll answer.

“Hey, I’m already inside. Where are you?”

She knew she wouldn’t get an immediate answer but her eyes were still glued to the phone waiting for Bruce's status to go from ‘offline’ to ‘online’. The status never changed and he never answered.

10.35 PM

Y/N legs were furiously and uncontrollably bouncing up and down under the table. She was having a lot of anxiety. She was scared that Bruce was locked up somewhere getting tortured.

She tried to ignore those types of thoughts but it was still something that bothered her. Messages such as; “Where are you?”, “Honey, answer please”, “Should I come over?” were being sent to him.

The distressed woman tucks some hair behind her ear as she looks at the empty seat in front of her.

11 PM

At this point Y/N had given up on sending messages. She had lost her appetite and ended up playing mobile games to spend time. She was so into her game she didn’t notice the well dressed man in front of her.

She finally noticed a presence in front of her. As she was looking downwards she saw black dress shoes making her happily look up

“I knew you’d come-,” she said excitedly. Her excitement quickly cut when she saw the face. It wasn’t her man.

“Ma’am, we are forced to ask you to leave as a young couple rented the entire restaurant for themselves. They should arrive in a few minutes so you unfortunately have to leave.”

Y/N looked down at her phone to check if she’d gotten a message. None.

She weakly smiled at the man before getting her purse and walking towards the door. When she got into her car she immediately burst into tears.

As she was about to drive off her phone buzzed. She wiped her tears before picking the phone up and read the message.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I had a few things to discuss with Selina Kyle. Hope you have a good night, I love you.”

You’d think the “I love you” would make her feel better but instead she burst into tears once more realizing her boyfriend bailed on her for another woman. Ouch.

(A/N: Hi. Hope you enjoyed reading this short little one-shot I recently thought of. I’ve been meaning to post something on this account and today I had some spare time to actually sit down and seriously try to write something.

You’ll have to excuse my choice of words and grammar as English isn’t my first language (it’s not even my 3rd🤭) but yeah.. Hope you enjoyed it and don’t forget to follow, BYEEE!!)

#bruce wayne #batman #dcu #dc #christian bale #first post #y/n #date #one shot #tumblr #selina kyle #getting bailed on #no smut #SFW #sort of angst #sad #broken trust #no rudeness please

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breannastewart · 1 year ago

Note

what are some of your favorite stewie and sue moments?

oh man I have so many it’s hard to pick just some so this may accidentally turn into a master post of stuff, sorry not sorry in advance 😭

but obviously you gotta start from the jump on how much sue looked out for her, and jewell as well. how she texted every day to check in, jewell talking about her helping buy groceries. there’s this clip from an interview where stewie says sue kept telling her she doesn’t get out enough so she was trying to expand her food horizons and sue just sheepishly shrugged and whispered "I do" about it 😭

sometimes stewie looks out for her too, like when sue asked for her to scratch her back because she couldn't reach but of course stewie had to be a mega dweeb about it 😭

here's the full gifset for that

we all famously know sue credits stewie for fixing her shot in that all time performance of hers in game 5 of the 2018 semis, how it was her who noticed something was off and told her to use her legs more and the rest was history on that, just good looking out by stewie

random silly moment but when stewie got a cut on her neck during a game back in 2018 they had to stop play for the blood and stewie is just aggressively swiping at her neck and sue comes over like stop it let me do it 😭

when sue broke her nose thanks to stewie's elbow hitting her in the face, the rest of the game stewie was so noticeably rattled even the commentators started speculating about it and then there's this moment on the bench when sue comes back, stewie's clearly got the red teary eyes before she has to check in and sue's the one trying to comfort her but also get her focused back on the game even though she's the one with gauze stuck up her nose 😭

they also just would talk A BUNCH on the bench during games I have multiple clips from games over the years of them just being obnoxious as hell or blabbering away on the bench omdfgh

ANYWAY OTHER MOMENTS. when stewie hurt her achilles she mentions in probably one of my fave interviews that sue was one of the first people that texted her, she said she told her "I knew on your face something was wrong, usually you fall and you get right up" + after her surgery when she still wasn't mobile enough, she mentioned in another that sue and megan would come over and cook dinner for her. got massages for her, too. below is from one of my fave articles (more from that article when you scroll down as well) and like... this girl 😭 she was devastated 😭

but sue ended up out for that year as well and it ended up producing this cute little exchange though 💀

when she injured her OTHER achilles in 2021, sue mentioned stewie looked at her and mouthed 'uh oh' and she kinda knew then, and stewie later talked about how she wanted to keep playing but sue was the one who kinda brought her down like you need to think about the long term, not right now. and I just think all of that really shows the deep connection and trust there and stewie even talked about how they ended up understanding each other in ways others can't. here are some of the other screencaps from the article I mentioned above back in 2020:

stewie has talked a lot about how she believes she wouldn't be where she is without sue. making players cry is kind of unfortunately holly rowes thing but stewie's interview back in 2018 before the finals, talking about sue and how much she deserved another championship and how she's done everything for her is very sweet. and here's that again from an interview before the start of this season:

and that isn't one sided, sue's 2018 player's tribune piece before the finals lives in my head rent free, it's better than any poems ever, just

and in a poscast post bubble/championship she mentions how she hadn't said it to her face yet that she saved her career, and then in an interview in late 2021 she talked about it again that she was weighing her options of retire or go play somewhere else with a chance to win, and then they got stewie, and

here's the gifset I made for that

going to throw in some random social media things to break up the sweet and sentimental stuff because these two are hilarious idiots (there's still some sweet things too)

these are from stewie's snapchat back in 2017 😭

again they're weird and silly and thanks for giving the sue gays a heart attack with this one stewie

THERE'S THE SWEET DOSE

and then there's these... 😭

that's where I'll wrap it up maybe because this has gotten long enough and there's just so many more I'd be happy to share if you like, and I'll leave you with some random cute pictures as well

#breanna stewart #sue bird #wnba #mytext.jpg #I'M SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG #they're just so special and important to me #and there's still somehow tons of other stuff #sue and stewie #answered #anonymous

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nightowlwriting · 2 years ago

Text

summary: be flexible, be unreplaceable

in a world of heavy footprints, be untraceable

you're activated. bucky, steve, and tony each have regrets. someone stalks the city at night. your cell is very nice, and so is bruce. his tests are easy and he's amiable to be around. bucky watches from the sidelines until he's at your door, telling you about the next test.

word count: 5.1k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, enhanced!reader, traumatized!reader

warnings: self-loathing, brief descriptions of torture, mentions of imprisonment, lapse of reality, paranoia, brief mentions of forced food/water restriction, flashbacks, ptsd, trauma responses

note: this is the part three of an ongoing series, find the series masterlist here. also sorry this is kind of a filler chapter? i can't put everything i want in it without it being too long and cutting it off makes it short. sorry!

title & summary credit: the mountain goats

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Steve takes a deep breath, inching closer and closer. He's not registering as a threat to you but your eyes are still flickering between his looming frame and the visibly frightened woman. At the same time that he says your name, low and calm, Bucky says your name in a tone that's achingly familiar. You hazard a glance over your shoulder and see him shielding Wanda, Tony, and Bruce much the way that Steve is shielding the woman who had been wearing the jacket. His face is hard, lined with stress, and his jaw moves like he’s chewing his next words carefully. Your gaze slides back to Steve, furniture and faces leaving trails like you’d only ever experienced when they first injected you with the serum.

Time is getting weird, and it probably has something to do with the way your chest is heaving or how thin the oxygen is around you because of the dancing flames on your arms. Your heart is still racing in your chest and now it’s almost starting to ache. How long has it been since the woman - Helen - walked off the elevator? How long had you and Wanda been in your memories? Natasha has moved from the doorway to standing at your flank, finger still on the trigger.

Steve is looking over your shoulder now, heartbreak on his face. You watch his head shift left and then right, minuscule movement that’s telegraphing something to someone behind you. Conflict crosses his face and then he looks back to you and the dying fire dancing across your skin. The expression looks wrong on Steve’s face and he shakes his head at you, hands lowering slowly but surely. “I’m sorry.” His voice is low and strangled and the fire on your body surges. What does that mean? The heat in your stomach, anger and resentment and revenge, fuels the oxygen suck weighing your shoulders down.

Seconds later, Steve’s mouth not even shut into a thin line yet, Bucky speaks up again. “Serdtse,” His voice is low and sharp, cutting through the air between you like a knife. It slides between your ribs and cuts into your lungs. The fire goes out even before he continues, “Potushit ogon.” Your hands shake worse than your knees as a high buzzing begins in the back of your mind. Eyes locked on Steve, you’re far, far away in a microsecond. The words are familiar but it’s in Bucky’s voice. For a brief second, you see him, laying bloodied and barely alive on the metal table. You hear the plans for the Program, for a new test to see if they could meld metal to flesh, you feel his blood flexing underneath your power. Gasping shallow breaths, the room spins around you. Steve smiles, small and sad, and approaches you faster - but not fast. Just faster than before. Bucky gives another order, “Uspokoit’sya.”

Steve wraps his long fingers around the wrist shaking in front of you as the weight of the order presses you down. Your breathing slows even though your mind is spinning out at thousands of miles per hour, and your stance relaxes. Steve smiles again, his other hand smoothing over your shoulder. “Helen is a friend,” He says, ducking his head so that he can keep eye contact with you as he says your name, “We just have to make sure that you’re healthy.”

For what? For battle? You know about the tests that doctors run - stress tests, blood pressure, cognitive tests. You know that they run all of that and more, sometimes through the excruciating pain of electricity in places that it shouldn’t be. Still, you can’t freak out because your mind is still stuck between this place is not that place, these people are not those people and uspokoit’sya. It leaves you in a strange fugue state that makes you incredibly malleable for Steve to steer you toward a chair. Your mind struggles to protect itself and it’s like you’re watching what’s happening through a dirty window - there, but not. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

Once he has you sat in the chair, everyone else moves. Bruce and Tony escort Wanda out the door, holding her up as she sags under her body weight. Or, maybe, the weight of your memories. Natasha lowers her gun but doesn’t take her finger off the trigger, even as Bucky works his way around to face you in an arc until he’s standing next to her. There’s a small trickle of blood over his forehead, following the slant of his eyebrow around his eye. It’s probably already healed, you think blithely as you watch Steve present your arm to Helen. She’s talking to you but her voice isn’t anything but a hum of syllables and incoherent sounds. She takes a lot of blood, more than a normal human could stand having drained at once, but you don’t even flinch.

You’re waiting for your next order. There has to be more - Bucky had activated you. They were going to use you for something, right? Maybe they’d just wanted you docile for the tests, or maybe they were going to trick you into agreeing to what Wanda had seen you in your mind. It doesn’t matter because your thoughts come and go like an even breeze. You barely remember them once they’re gone, despite being very quick-witted usually. They’re an afterthought to you - they have to be if you want to survive. If you rely on your own thoughts they will punish you when you tell them no. If you fall away, watch your life trapped in your own body as if You is different from the you that your body is, it hurts much less. So you let Helen run her tests and take her blood; you answer her questions in a flat and quiet voice. Almost fully opposite of you, the You inside of your body is screaming. Every answer burns like fire as it comes out of your body; every test, blood draw, and reflex check is a reminder of what you and You actually are. Sure, you can look like a person and act like a person and even fucking think and feel and love and cry like a person but nobody in those jackets sees you (or You, for that matter) as a person.

You are an experiment. A tool. A weapon. An asset.

You are Serdtse.

You are the Heart, the beginning, the end, the middle, the catalyst, the deterrent. You are all of these things in one and Bucky must see it.

He has made his way from being all of those things, but he must see it in you. He watches you as Helen continues for another hour, two, three - you’re not sure. There’s no time where You are and it’s hard enough to watch everything happening, let alone know how long you’ve been stuck inside of your own body like this. The weight of your title doesn’t even seem to impact his shoulders, or the way he sends Natasha away with the strangle tile she’d dropped. When Steve escorts Helen back to the elevator, Bucky approaches less cautiously than his friend had. He says a name but you stare blankly back at him. Inside, behind the glass, You scream. That’s Your name, that’s who You are. He’s saying Your name and You desperately want to react but you can’t, you won’t. Bucky sighs and finally the weight settles over him.

Through a frown, he says, “Serdtse, poydem.”

“Gde?” Your voice is hollow and Bucky flinches.

“V svoyu komnatu. Tebe nuzhno pospat’ seychas.”

You nod but it feels heavy. On numb legs you stand, eyes rolling toward Bucky as he watches you, analyzing how you’re reacting - or not reacting because you’re still stuck, trapped, reliving your life in brief flashes and phantom pains. The phrase they always expected falls out of your mouth before you can stop it and, for a moment, you’re afraid you’re going to vomit. “Ya ponimayu.” He turns to lead you to your room and you follow, gait strong and flawless. It’s unlike any way that you’ve carried your body since you’ve unthawed and if you had more control, if you were closer to the surface of the fugue state, you might clench your jaw and crack your neck to relieve the stress compressing your spine. As it is, you just follow Bucky’s broad back to your room and follow your orders, laying back down in your bedding and falling asleep before you can become You again.

When Bucky gets back to the apartment he shares with Steve, the first thing he does is empty his dinner into the toilet. The second thing he does is get into the shower fully clothed, turning the water as hot as Friday will let him. The third is cry.

The city skyline is dark, a storm having just passed over the heart of New York. The rolling of thunder still echoes from where the cluster of clouds has moved on, but the figure clad in all black, shapeless clothing doesn’t care. As long as the storm doesn’t come back for seconds, everything will fall into place today.

They’re on a mission.

They have to find the perfect place - it has to be perfect. If it’s not perfect there’s a good chance they’ll lose their life. There’s a good chance their family will die, too. The video had gone viral. The headlines had conspired that it was a movie shoot.

But they know better. Their bosses know better. The day after the video was posted, the plan was in place. It just has to be perfect.

Every alley that they pass is inspected, but those are too hidden. The parks are too filled with people walking dogs or gathering after the raucous storm in the fresh post-rain smell. The figure huffs, pulling a dark hood tighter to obscure their face from security cameras or appearing in the background of smartphone photographs.

Grinding their teeth, they search well into the night. Finally, finally, they find it. Hidden enough to be discovered long after they’re gone, but in plain enough sight that it will be discovered.

The paint runs like blood and the artist disappears like a ghost.

Steve presses his forehead against the elevator doors after he sends Helen off. There’s a bad feeling growing like a parasite in his spine. He’s almost afraid to go back to his apartment, to see what’s happening to Bucky now, but he has to. He wants to, more importantly.

When he said I’m with you ‘till the end of the line what he really meant was I love you, I have always and will always love you, and I will be here through everything.

Tony sits on his balcony, an untouched glass of whiskey in his right hand. Every so often, he smells it. He does not take a drink, but his throat stings like he does. The skin around his arc reactor burns. It’s a phantom ache. He knows that.

You’re a phantom ache to him, too.

If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the heat of the fire on your skin pressing against his face. If he closes his eyes, he wonders if that’s what it feels like to die.

If he closes his eyes, he wonders if that’s the last thing his parents felt.

Tony doesn’t close his eyes. Instead, he pours the whiskey over the balcony, thinking about every Yahrzeit he’s missed, every kaddish.

A storm rolls in.

When you wake up the next morning you feel like shit. There’s residual heaviness in your head, a fog you can’t break through. There’s also shame. When Natasha comes to get you, laptop and gun in hand, you straighten your shoulders and decide that you’re going to be the best fucking prisoner these people have ever had. You pick out your clothes on the laptop, keeping an eye out for what Natasha likes, and then you go for more blood tests.

It continues like that for the next month. Sometimes Steve comes to get you in the mornings, sometimes it’s Natasha. It’s never Bucky, never Wanda, never Tony. It makes bile rise in your throat but you press on. You have to.

When Bruce comes to get you in the mornings, it means he’s running tests, too. You remember these tests from your time with the Handlers so it’s easy. It’s like breathing. Sometimes the Avengers - though you’d learned that they don’t really call themselves that anymore - come to watch. Bruce doesn’t make you run mazes, but he hooks new tech up to you and monitors your reactions to running at a flat-out sprint for as fast and as long as possible, or jogging for as long as you can stand the boredom that comes with your endurance. He told you once everything that he monitors like it matters to you, or you’re going to do anything with that information. You know your place - you’re nothing more than a shiny new lab rat, another super-soldier with a serum that they can study. Still, there’s something about the look on Bucky’s face when he’s watching you deadlift or catch softballs barehanded from a machine that pitches them to you at superhuman speeds. It reminds you of you when you were watching him die.

But you’re not dying. You’re getting stronger throughout the tests. The Handlers ran tests, sure, but they never kept you fed well enough to gain any muscle. The Avengers give you three protein shakes a day, still unbearably sweet, and after a few weeks you end up eating breakfasts and lunches of solid foods with just a shake for dinner. You bulk up, but not visibly. It’s just noticeable on your tests and it becomes another variable that Bruce measures. He’s the nicest of the bunch - the most prone to trust you. Maybe it’s naivete, maybe it’s because there’s something lurking under the surface that you can see. He’s repressing something and you wonder if, like you, he’ll explode one day.

You also take to writing in the month since you nearly lit poor Helen on fire. It’s easy enough to request a pen and journal from The Voice That Lives In Your Ceiling, something that’s never really explained to you. Every night after your tests are done and you’ve drank your dinner shake, you find yourself at the desk in your cell writing. You’ve filled four journals with just what you remember from your childhood so far, and there’s still so much more information that you have left to give. The finished journals are all in a pile next to where you sleep, new crisp journals appearing outside your door after you add another thick, written in journal to the pile. You’re not sure who’s buying them for you, but you figure they’ll be repaid tenfold when they get their hands on everything you know.

The Handlers were never worried about what they said to you, or around you, because they thought they had your undying loyalty. They programmed you with a near-perfect memory which, now, is both a blessing and a curse. Their plans, their thoughts, their names - you write them all down because you can remember them.

But that means you can remember what those people became. The monsters that humans can turn into when corrupted by greed, or power, or the ideologies that led to the second war.

It also means you can remember being outside, no matter how much you don’t want to. Asking to go outside seems like it’s breaking some unspoken rule about what you can and can’t have, so you don’t even risk it. You just think about asking; remembering the sun on your face, the ground beneath your feet. You just look longingly out the window when it rains or when the stars come out.

Nobody notices.

Still, they are eons nicer than the Handlers. You learn about them over mealtimes when they all come together to laugh, catch up, and break bread. You’re only there because Steve makes sure to come to get you so that you can eat with them. Sometimes, he drags you into the conversations like he wants to get to know you.

(“What about your favorite book? It has to be one that Buck and I have actually read.” Steve says one day when the rain has lulled you into a small appetite. You’re already done with lunch, listening to the team describe the bare-bones plots of their favorite novels. His direct question startles you so badly a heat you can feel crawling up your neck.

“Yeah,” Wanda says, still not able to look you full in the eyes after what she’d seen in your head, “I’m sure yours are more interesting than ours.” You blink slowly, trying to think about the ten or eleven books you’d read in your life.

“Oh,” You say to fill the silence, shifting awkwardly when you realize that even Bucky is watching, waiting for your answer, “There was a book I stole when I was out once,” You cough awkwardly when you realize what you’ve revealed, “It was in Paris - in the late thirties. Just a few years, uh, before I was frozen.” Not a few years ago - decades. Lifetimes. “The Handlers weren’t too keen when they found it, but it was a good book. Nightwood was the title, but I’m not sure of the author. Djuana? Something.”

“Djuna Barnes,” Bucky says, “My cousin. I remember hearin’ Ma talk about the book when it came out in ‘36. She didn’t like how it talked about different groups like they weren’t all people, and I have to agree. Really sent the neighborhood into a tizzy when she published that, but she was a good journalist in Greenwich ‘fore she went off to travel.” He shares a fond look with Steve, “Gave us our first smokes too - nearly killed Stevie with his lungs back then.” You don’t understand the look on his face.

“It’s a good book,” You offer, wilting under the unreadable look on everyone’s faces, “I read almost the entire thing before it was taken away from me. I didn’t appreciate how she played into stereotypes, either, though.”

“What was your favorite quote?” Bucky leans forward, commanding the conversation as he watches you think. “What?” “From the book - your favorite quote.”

You think, running back the parts of the book you’d read over and over in your head. There were a few lines that had stayed with you, sure, but only one that had brought you to tears when you first read it in the moonlight at the Underground. “But death is intimacy walking backward. We are crazed with grief when she, who once permitted us, leaves to us the only recollection.” Bucky leans back, satisfied.

“We have to get you some new books.” Tony cuts in, grumbling into his coffee cup and never looking at you. The next day there is a stack of books in front of your door when Bruce comes to get you for breakfast and testing. The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams, and a thick book with all seven books in a series called The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S Lewis. You have a sneaking suspicion that Tony sent them, but don’t know why.)

Exactly a month after you’ve woken up from the ice is the second time that Bucky Barnes shows up at your door to fetch you. He knocks as they all do, but then he opens the door before you can even stand from your makeshift studying nook. “Today is goin’ to be different,” He says. Something about the way his voice is flat and grave makes your stomach twist. “We need to see how powerful you are.” You turn to look at him but he won’t look at you. “I don’t know - did they ever make you fight other people?”

“Sometimes,” You answer, but your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It sounds like theirs- every person you fought, every person you killed. Thankfully, it does not sound like Bucky’s. “I don’t have to kill anyone, do I?”

“No!” He looks at you now, pale. So he knows, then. That part of the Program wasn’t written down anywhere except in the notes you stole, but it was always the Handler’s favorite part. They loved to take bets but it was a lost cause and mostly for fun. You never lost. “No,” Bucky repeats, calmer, “We just want to see how much you can manipulate. You’ll be fighting us.”

In your shock, you nearly forget to breathe. Fighting them - fighting the Avengers… Even the Handlers didn't fight you themselves. There are so many things that can go wrong; they know that based on the fact that Bucky has been sent to collect you. He watches you go stock still, chest barely rising with your breath, and wrings his hands. "How hard do I have to fight?" You finally ask, standing from your cramped position over a notebook.

"Just hard enough to not lose," He holds your door for you, "I… I had to do the same thing after I was pardoned. They only had me fight Stevie and Tony, though." You follow three steps behind Bucky as he leads you toward the training gym, "We're goin' to have you switch it up for each person because I don't think anyone could handle takin' you on with all four elements, y'know?"

"Right." You clip off the word before it's fully out of your mouth. You know that nobody could - you're not sure you'd survive that experiment.

"So the plan is one-on-one, one element per combatant." Bucky explains everything tactically, lips pressed into a hard line between each sentence, "It's up to you how you fight and what you fight with. This is a test of your cognitive capabilities when it comes to fighting - and how you strategize."

"And how dangerous I am."

He sighs, "It's not really about that, but it is being measured today." For a brief second his hand ghosts over your elbow before lightly tugging, like a warning he was going to touch you. "We're not goin' to the gym today."

You look blankly at the doors to the gym you're in nearly every day. "Where are we going?"

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, frowning lightly. "Outside, where else?" You hesitate, seeing the door at the end of the hallway. Once you pass that threshold you're not sure what will happen to you. You'll fight, sure, but after? When they see the extent of your power? What will they do to you? "Is everything okay?"

"I just… Haven't been outside in a long time." You finally muster up, "I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to take me out there.” He looks back and forth between you and the door before he takes the few steps to the metal and pushes it open.

“C’mon,” He jerks his head toward the yard - you can feel the breeze pushing past you and the smell of the freshly mowed grass makes your bones sing. You want to be outside so badly it aches, but you know that once you get a taste of that equilibrium, that freedom, it’ll be just that more bitter to go back to you cell. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.” Maybe Bucky doesn’t really know why you’re standing with your knees locked, fingernails digging into your palms but maybe he does. Either way, he’s giving you an out to pretend that you’re scared and not already thinking of what you’re losing before you get it.

You follow Bucky outside. The sunshine on your skin makes your breath catch and then your bare feet hit the grass and everything is whole again. The feeling of being perfectly balanced within your body and everything you can do with it sits heavy, but light, on your chest. Your toes spread and your eyes close without your permission - Bucky chuckles softly, barely heard over the wind, when your head tilts and seeks out the sunshine. “It’s been so long,” You whisper back even though he hadn’t really asked a question, voice clogged and choking on emotions you don’t dare let show on your face, “It feels so good.”

“We’ll have to get you outside more often,” Steve’s voice scares you because you hadn’t heard him leave the compound and you’d been so focused on how being outside makes you feel inside that you hadn’t been paying attention to the outside. Your eyes snap open and instinctually you hike your shoulders to your ears. For a second you’d forgotten who you are, what you are; that’s a surprisingly big feat when Bucky is around and he’d been appointed your de facto Handler. (Or, at least, that’s what you assumed when he kept showing up to every test with Steve and Bruce. Plus, he’d been sent to get you today, when there was a higher chance that you’d react poorly.) “Woah, hey, it’s okay,” He’s dressed in a familiar suit and holding his hands up to appease you. Bucky looks concerned, his left hand flexing as he warms his arm up. “I know these few weeks have been a lot, but we’re almost to the end, okay?”

You nod robotically, “Of course,” It’s hard to hold eye contact with either of them, so you settle on watching how their shoulders brush against each other as they stand, “I’m almost done writing down everything I know.” You’ve been working on that for a while and of course they know, but it’s the first time any of you have mentioned it out loud.

“That’s really amazing,” Steve says earnestly. It’s hard not to believe him when his voice is so sure and full, but you have to remember who you are. You have to remember who you’re not. “Well,” He claps once and then looks back at Bucky, sharing nonverbal communication that you’re not equipped to understand, and then back to you, “The others are waiting for you. I’m sure that Tony wants to go first.” He telegraphs his movements so that it’s not a shock when he claps you on the shoulder. You let Steve lead you toward the others - they’re standing in a group on the other side of a large field watching the three of you. Bucky takes up the rear and you try to ignore the tingling down your spine at having such a formidable opponent behind you.

By the time you make it to where Sam, Tony, Natasha, Bruce, and Wanda are standing you've already figured out the situation. Automatically you know that you’re not going to be facing off against Wanda or Sam - they're dressed far too comfortably. Bruce is wearing what he always does when he’s observing you which is what he wears all of the time: a nice button up shirt and slacks. You can feel incredibly compressed metal around Tony’s wrists and Natasha is in her tactical suit. Cutting a glance to Bucky lets you know that you missed his tactical suit as well. You immediately begin to strategize even though Tony is definitely speaking to you about what this is for - none of that matters because you understand. They either want to know what you can do so that they can control you better or that want to turn you around and use your powers for themselves.

Bucky knocks you out of it by tapping his fingers against the back of your hand as he passes. “You’ll be fine,” He whispers without really moving his lips or speaking up. The only reason you can hear him is because you’re teeming with serum, “Just show us what you can do, okay?”

He follows the others about forty yards away, leaving you and Steve standing next to each other. Steve says something that you can’t hear over the blood rushing in your ears and then moves to stand across from you maybe ten or so feet away. When you finally meet his eyes he gives you that same smile that he gave you when he was trying to calm you down in the dining area so long ago.

Pity. Uncertainty. Maybe a little bit of fear.

It makes your stomach turn.

Instead of saying anything to Steve you just bounce on the balls of your feet and shake out your hands. “I’m ready,” You announce, trying to keep the shake out of your voice but raising it enough that everyone can hear you. Immediately Steve shifts his center of gravity backward and schools his expression. If you weren’t who you are and you didn’t have the training you do, it would be scary how quickly he could go from open and friendly to locked down and determined. There’s a flicker of confusion on his face when you don’t move, instead opting to let your natural senses take a backseat to your supernatural senses. His face swims behind a fog but you can feel his heartbeat picking up with adrenaline, his muscles coiling as he gets ready to move, his lungs expanding and compressing as he breathes.

Once again, you’re stuck with how easily you could kill Captain Steve Rogers. Every instinct that was shocked, beat, burned into you tells you to - you’re made to kill him, and Bucky, and anyone who gets in your way. But you don’t want to kill him, you don’t even want to hurt him. In fact, you’d be perfectly content if they let you stay in your cell for the rest of your damn life and put food through a doggy door. You begin to float away, waiting on orders, but you can’t. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. You have to stay tethered to your body, fight the Avengers, and prove that you’re worth it.

(Worth what?)

Bucky’s voice comes back to you in wavy echoes. What had he told you? You’d asked him - something, God you’d asked something - and he’d said… Just hard enough not to lose. What had you asked?

Steve’s muscles tense again and it gives you barely a second for your question to tumble through your mind before you have to do something.

How hard do I have to fight?

Just hard enough not to lose.

Steve, with the shield on his back, kicks up dirt as he sprints toward you. It’s easy to dodge left out of the way and avoid the sweeping leg he tries to take you out with. Everything snaps back into place and then you’re using your natural senses and supernatural senses in tandem, in equilibrium, in synchronicity. It’s been so, so long - like stretching a muscle after they’d kept you in a room that was too cramped for too long. It feels exhilarating.

The adrenaline must show on your face because Steve whirls to attack again and stops, cocking his head. You watch him as he watches you and then he’s grinning. “There you are,” He rumbles, looking almost feral, “There’s the fire you woke up with.”

live once, you get to pay twice

keep your nose clean, keep your wheels nice

Potushit ogon - put the fire out

Uspokoit’sya - calm down

Poydem - let’s go

Gde - where

V svoyu komnatu. Tebe nuzhno pospat’ seychas - to your room. you need to sleep now

Ya ponimayu - i understand

#dark in here #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes imagine #stucky x reader #stucky/reader #mcu imagine #marvel imagine

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heredis-sanguinis · 4 months ago

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So, as it is very apparent my activity is as good as non-existent, I thought I at least owe some form of explanation: (under the cut)

My father has been ill. Extremely so, for the last five years.

He suffered a CVA (Cerebral Vascular Accident) five years ago, which left him as good as paralysed on the left side of his body. And he is a lefty, so that’s all his dominant side gone since then. And the type he had has like a 10-20% surviva rate, with an average of 5 years to live.

He couldn’t walk, drive, swim, do basic things any more. To say it did a number on him is an understatement of a lifetime.

Throughout the years he had physical therapy and many psych appointments. To the point he very slowly got some of his mobility back, by being able to walk with aids again.

We were becoming hopefuly that his quality of life was somewhy returning for him.

Then two months ago, he started having difficulties with eating, and started losing weight. His fatigue increased to the point he is sleeping most of the days, for 16-20 hours.

Last month, after numerous tests and scans and tissue samples, we received the news that he has malignant arsophagus cancer, with metastases throughout his body.

Treatment is no possible, with how weak his body has become.

And I was unaware of most of this in the beginning, since I rarely get to visit my parents with how hectic my life and work can get.

I’ve also noticed the toll it took on me now that I have been forced to come to terms with possibly losing my father within the near future. We can’t receive an estimate of the time he might have left. It could be days, weeks, months. Even a year or longer.

I’m more reclused than normal. Diving straight into work and private gaming. I barely sleep, and when I do, it’s very broken with me waking abruptly and frantically checking my phone if I missed any calls or messages.

My mom is breaking apart slowly, despite her attempt of hiding it from me and my siblings. My siblings are managing, with them having safety nets in the form of their partners and own children to be strong for.

I am very bad at keeping in touch with people. While at the same time already with a low social battery as it is. Well, that has been shot completely in recent weeks/months.

I don’t know how my activity here, or online on Discord will be. I might respond to messages, or might not. It really depends on how much energy I can muster for it really. Maybe I’ll be able to find some form of muse and motivation to write small bits here and there.

I’m sorry for anyone that I have kept waiting, without so much as an explanation until now.

#[out of blood] - out of character #tw: negative #tw: grief

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edosianorchids901 · 1 year ago

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Accommodations

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt “on the edge”

This had not been in Crowley’s plans for the day. He was supposed to be enjoying the warm weather, ideally by causing some traffic congestion and irritating people into coming up with horrible ideas of their own. A little light entertainment on the job.

Unfortunately, that required being able to move. Right now, he was on the edge of screaming in pain. Any serious movement, the sort required to get to his Bentley, would push him right over the edge.

He ground his teeth, staring at his mobile. It taunted him from the coffee table. To get it, he would need to lean forward, reach out. And if he tried that…

Crowley wasn’t quite sure if people—or demons—ever passed out from neck pain, but he was definitely sure he didn’t wanna find out.

Plus, it wasn’t just his neck. That was the worst of it, a steady smolder that had morphed into a supernova last time he moved. It sprawled out from there, trails of fire running down into all his limbs. His whole body tingled and burned, actually, and he had no damn clue what to do about it.

Could get drunk. But that would be hard to do, even if he miracled a drink to himself. He’d need to move his arms, probably tilt his head back.

He tried it, raised his chin, and yelped at the explosion in his spine. Tears burned his eyes, and his stomach lurched.

Okay. Nope. Drinks were probably out. So were any sort of painkillers, although those were pretty ineffective at soothing his misbehaving corporation anyway. A heating pad might help, but he couldn’t put one on.

Which meant his only real option was asking for help.

Crowley sighed, glaring at his mobile as much as he could manage without moving his head. “Call Aziraphale,” he said, desperately hoping that none of his plans had interfered with the mobile network again this time. Right now, he was foggy enough from pain that he couldn’t remember.

The phone rang a few times, echoing through his empty flat, and then picked up. “I’m afraid we’re closed for the day, doing, um… inventory. Do call back another—”

“Don’t you fucking dare hang up on me.”

“Crowley? That’s awfully rude, even for you. Are you all right?”

He definitely was not, but asking for help still chafed at him. “Nnnh. Hey. Sorry. Er.”

“That’s not very informative, my dear.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “I… fucked up my neck. Dunno how. Maybe moved just wrong.” Even talking was making the pain worse, each movement of his jaw sending a fresh stab of pain. “Can’t, er…”

“Oh, you poor fellow. I’ll be right over, how’s that?”

Before Crowley could reply, Aziraphale materialized out of thin air in front of him. Crowley gritted his teeth hard, battling against the startle reflex. If he jumped right now, he’d definitely scream. “Hi.”

Aziraphale looked him over, eyes wide. “Oh dear. You look absolutely horrible.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s your neck?” Aziraphale moved behind him, gently settling his fingers against Crowley’s spine. “Does touch hurt?”

“Nuh.” Actually, Aziraphale’s warmth felt good. “Thought about… heating pad. Or alcohol. Or something. But I can’t move enough to get any of that.”

“Oh, how awful. Here, let’s see…” The plump fingers moved in slow, careful circles. “Would you like to try a spot of very light massage, just to see if we can get you to relax? You’re awfully tense.”

“M’ tense because my neck is on fire.” But that did sound amazing. “Can you? Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, my dear.” Aziraphale settled both hands on his shoulders, thumbs stroking in an even rhythm. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, you could even say I’m doing my job by helping.”

Crowley snorted. “Lucky. I was gonna do my job by cutting off lots of other drivers.”

“Well, perhaps later,” Aziraphale said kindly.

Probably not later. When the pain flared up like this, best thing to do was to stay in the flat, try to rest. Even if Aziraphale could get him mobile again, he wasn’t going anywhere today.

The massage did feel terrific, though. Slow and careful, Aziraphale’s strong hands achingly gentle. Working at the taut muscles with a delicacy that didn’t cause any pain at all. Crowley closed his eyes, drifting.

He could even breathe now, and the burning pain diminished a tiny bit. Finally, Aziraphale ran a light stroke across his hair. “How’s that, my dear? Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Bracing for it to explode again, Crowley rolled his shoulders just a little. Then he winced. “Ow. At least I can move now.”

“Yes, movement is certainly an improvement. Where do you keep your heating pad? And would you like tea?”

Crowley provided directions, said yes to tea and threw in a hopeful word for scotch, then shifted a little in his armchair. A fresh blaze seared down his spine, and he stopped moving again before it got too bad. But at least he’d managed to move enough that he wouldn’t fuck up his hips from staying in the same position for too long.

“Here we are, my dear.” Aziraphale settled the heating pad around his shoulders without plugging it in. It was already at the perfect temperature, enough that Crowley groaned with relief. “And your tea. And your scotch. What would you like first?”

“Scotch.”

Aziraphale pulled a small, square table right up against the armchair and set down the tea. Then he put a straw in Crowley’s scotch glass, beamed at him, and held it up. “Here, take a sip.”

Crowley glared. “Are you joking?”

“I highly suspect it’ll be less painful.”

It was definitely less painful, albeit embarrassing. Asking for help was embarrassing too, or so he’d thought. But honestly, letting Aziraphale fuss over him was turning out to be pretty great.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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sonnetsficofcringe · 1 year ago

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Awoken

Chapter 2 desperate worry

Wally’s pov

Summary: Wally wakes up in the studio, time has seemed to pass without him. And his friends.

T/W’s :panic attacks and little bit of angst wally cries

Im on mobile so the wording will look weird. Sorry for your eyes! Also i do not proof read, i publish late at night, anywho lets start.

BOOM CRACK

Wally hits the bottom of the desk he was under, the loud sound of thunder jolts him out of his coma like state. Trying to climb out from under the desk His eyes adjust to the dark and a gasp leaves him.

“Oh no…”

What he saw wracked his innocent mind, His friends scattered around the broken down recording studio.’did the do it?’ wally thought to himself.‘Did they really cancel us?’

He scans the room making sure his friends are not missing any limbs. No one was, thank the heaven, just looking worn and dusty. He let out a calmed sigh. “Oh thank the stars…now let me jus-“ he was cut off with a thud. Now facing the floor wally looked back and failed to notice something about himself. He fell speechless.

His shin is missing, everything below the knee.

Trying to scream his voice is caught in his throat, where was his leg? Why was it gone? Why!? Oh… his leg was caught inside the floorboards and he ripped his shin out by the seams when attempting to walk. He gets back up with the help of a broken board and took hobbled hops towards each of his friends. Shaking each one and giving gentle but firm nudges, he realized with no one to care for and maintain them, they went back to “sleep”

“yes sleep! Thats what they’re doing! Maybe home can-“

Wally was cut off again but this time instead of shock, it was from fear. He didn’t see home when he checked everyone else. The 9th neighbour was reverted to nothing but a door, window, roof and the left overs of home’s base. Home’s remaining eye no longer conveyed any sort of life, broken windows taking their place.

The producers took home apart thinking it was the reason for the puppets being more lively, but Wally knew better. Wally always was told from his creator that it was love. The love from the studio workers, the love from the children and the love of their creator that made them live. Home only kept them safe, but not alive.

The creator knew this.

Wally knew this.

But they never asked.

Wally huffs an angry whimper and begins to hobble toward the only exit of the recording studio. Using his one tippy toe he barly reaches the door knob and begins to turn it, locked?

(Cue to other side of door being blocked by a broom)

He stares at the door in shock, then begins to desperately try and turn the door knob, panic setting in with the realization that no one knows they’re here. No on is going to come looking. Wally eyes start to blur and though he has no lungs he can feel his breathing take a faster pace almost choking him. Eyes start to well as he scratches the door while sobbing “NO! nonononono- oh no. Please no. Not again I don’t wanna be alone, not again……”

He crumbles to the ground and curls himself into a ball, silently sobbing till he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Like he did for so many years before.

Oof that ending, I promise you find him in the next chapter tho. I will try not to make him cry anymore maybe.

what Wally saw when he woke up. If you look by Barnaby you can notice what’s left of home

#fanfic #welcome home #wally darling #poppy partridge #julie #sally #eddie dear #frank frankly #eddie x frank #howdy pillar #barnaby b beagle #fanart #my artwork #light angst #wally x y/n #in the next chapter

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flatstarcarcosa · 6 months ago

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Guess! That! Blorbo! Featuring @one-winged-dreams. Sorry if you don't like strawberry daiquiris btw I couldn't think of anything else.

Entirely mobile piece I hope it doesn't eat yalls dash because readmores don't work despite the button so I can't cut it til I get home.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

“I'm gonna have to kill him, I think,” says Reese. They pop another peanut into their mouth and crunch angrily, leaning on the bar and glowering into the distance.

“That's not gonna work for many reasons,” Adri says, quirking an eyebrow and making a show of draining the last of his strawberry daiquiri. The sound of air funneling through the straw causes Reese to snatch the glass out of his hand and begin making another.

“I can't justify disliking him so obviously the easiest way to resolve the situation is to kill him.” They continue glaring at nothing as they add extra flavoring to the non-alcoholic drink mix.

“I think the problem is that you don't actually dislike him that much, and you also don't know how to respond to unwavering kindness without trying to bite people like a stray dog,” says Adri.

Reese raises both eyebrows and blinks several times. “Oh,” they say, “okay are we- are we just going there? Do I need to start digging around in your brain mess Mister Malewife?”

“At least my reaction to liking someone isn't to jump to murder, is all I'm getting at,” he says.

“I don't like him! That's the problem!”

Adri rolls his eyes. “You slept with him.”

“Doesn't fucking mean I like him,” Reese growls.

“With you?” Adri barks out a laugh. “When you don't like someone you ice them out as much as possible. If you really hated him you'd have already said or done something so heinous he'd never be back in here.”

Reese says nothing for a moment, instead over mixing the daiquiri as they think. They finally drop the mixer to the bar top with a thud. “He's just so fucking nice!” They snap. “Like, he hasn't actually done anything to warrant me being a cunt about it, which just makes me even madder!”

“...speaking of cu-”

“Dick game insane, yes, thanks,” they say. They finally finish the drink and slide it over to him.

Adri grins deviously around the straw. Reese continues to glower. He drains half the drink and places it on the coaster. “You know,” he says seriously, “to be honest I think… it might be good for you, for a change.”

“Are you trying to say I have a poor romantic history?”

“Well hell Reese, how would I know?” he asks. “You have a seemingly terminal allergy to giving anyone information about your personal life. I only know about any of this because of-”

“I know,” they sigh, interrupting. They lean across the bar again, stretching their arms until their fingers dangle off the opposite side. The wood is cool against their cheek. “I've been conditioned to be wary of things that don't hurt; that's always more dangerous than the obviously painful because it's always a manipulative ruse to cut deeper.”

Adri lets out a sympathetic hum and mirrors their position across the bar. Reese tilts their head and he stares at his own reflection in their sunglasses.

“If it helps at all, I promise it's not a trap with him,” he says, then adds in a more jovial tone, “also I think you'd be cute together.”

“There's no together,” Reese moans. “It's not anything, it won't be anything.”

“What makes you so sure?” Adri asks, straightening up.

“Because I'm gonna kill him,” they say.

“For fucks sake-”

#reese.fic #im p sure adri will guess it w this BUT KEEP THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF 🔫

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dajaregambler · 1 year ago

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HeliosR - Sing in the darkness - Chapter 3 - Part 5

Translation of Sing in the darkness from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’, a new side arc alongside the current main story arc Like the dawning light.

Bianchi: ----I’m here, sorry for the wait

Bianchi: My mother called me again and we ended up talking for a long time…. Oh, oh dear?

Jude: Welcome back, Bianchi

Bianchi: How rare, were you two having a chat?

Bianchi: You both mind your own business and do whatever you like whenever it’s just the two of you, no?

Nico: We got a message

Bianchi: A message?

Jude: It’s a directive from headquarters. Bianchi should’ve also gotten it

Bianchi: Let me see…

Jude: To put it simply, taking the city’s current state in account, heroes have to refrain from any activities for a while.

Bianchi: What?

Jude: Well, it’s a reasonable judgment based on the current situations with the civilians. There’s still a large crowd of them swarming the Tower outside.

Nico: There also seems to be civilians who hound heroes on patrol and hurl insults at them.

Bianchi: How could this happen… Might be a matter of time until it develops into riots…

Jude: It’s obvious for patrols, but the latest LOM also seems to be postponed for the time being

Jude: Until things calm down, each of us have to be on stand-by at home or at the tower for now. Only time to dispatch is when headquarters notifies you to do so.

Jude: What a pain this turned into. If it was substance or Eclipse, we’d have our work cut for us

Nico: And, don’t act independently when you get sent out.

Jude: Well, won’t be a problem if the three of us act accordingly. It’s a dream come true if I can work together with Bianchi.

Bianchi: This city took a turn for the worse, hasn’t it…

Bianchi: Having our mobility restricted hurts, but we must do our best for Sei-chan.

Bianchi: What do we start with first?

Jude: Going off on what Sage said, there was something strange about Robin…

Jude: It’s going to be bone-breakingly hard if it’s on a level he’s only capable of perceiving.

Bianchi: Yes… However this is why we have to believe in Sei-chan’s intuition. After all, he’s the one who knew Robin the best.

Nico: I’m curious about how Sage mentioned Robin’s tablet while telling us everything

Bianchi: Ah, that tablet device handed out by Helios, yes?

Jude: What happens to the supplied items of those that died in line of duty?

Nico: Most likely that Helios takes it back

Bianchi: So it’s somewhere inside the Tower?

Nico: I wanna see what’s on it….

Bianchi: It’s not like they’ll easily show it to us because we want to look into it…

Bianchi: And if word gets out about everything Sei-chan told us, it’d be trouble…

Jude: Why not lay it all out and then threaten them into silence?

Bianchi: Why, just why can you only come up with unbeautiful ideas?

Jude: Haha, ‘cuz I’ll never be more beautiful than Bianchi

Bianchi: Sigh~….

Nico: I’ll go for a sec

Bianchi: Eh, go where?

Jude: Gonna threaten ‘em? Then leave that to m----

Nico: You two follow me

Jude: Ah, hey….!

Nico: You’re late

Bianchi: Follow me as you disappear into thin air, Nico-chan… What a horrid joke…

Bianchi: At least tell us where we have to go…

Jude: Gonna bust this place up now?

Nico: No busting.

Bianchi: This place is… a confidential vault, right?

Nico: Yes. If the confiscated tablet is being stored somewhere, then it’s probably here

Bianchi: What do you plan on doing coming this far? Going inside without a single care will get us in trouble

Nico: Yeah. Lockpicking and forcing the door will sound the alarm.

Nico: And making a hole in the ceiling or wall is out of the question due it being an act of destruction.

Nico: So then, best way to go about it is that

Bianchi: Nico-chan, don’t tell me you’re---

#helios rising heroes #heliosr #jude ares #bianchi law #nico #sing in the darkness

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muttakutagawa · 1 year ago

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can you share about your shibusawa kids :D

yes!!!

(sorry this took so long to get out, my computer broke so its slow typing big text posts on mobile so please forgive any typos)

they're still in development at the moment as i try to build my nextgen but heres something of an overview of them so far to give you a bit of a general idea :]

some background: i like to ship shibusawa in a monstercule (monster polycule) of him, bram, lovecraft, adam, and sigma so the four kids i talk about here have additional siblings from those as well

they also each have some reptile i equate them within my mind that i use to characterize them

Tatsumi Shibusawa-Lovecraft

Tatsumi is th oldest of the family, and has the least conventional origin in comparison to not only his siblings but all my fankids (yes, even chimeraverse, even if those aren't actually technically shipkids).

He's technically closer to a singularity than anything else, first appearing as an egg shaped bundle of excess energy in the aftermath of Dead Apple. He wasn't really concious or anything during this, just a bunch of barely contained highly unstable energy swirling around. The egg was initially gathered by the ADA but was turned over to the Special Division for Unusual Powers so it could be more safely stored and observed. I don't want to spoil the entire story since I plan on writing/drawing it, so to cut to the end, the energy stored in the "egg" wasn't stable enough to actually form a living body and Shibusawa couldn't provide any more than what he already had. It required contact with another extreme source of energy, which ended up being the cosmic power Lovecraft is constantly using to maintain a human form himself. (I will say there were a couple other circumstances that could've provided Tatsumi with his stabalized human form, Lovecraft was just the one who actually made physical contact with the "egg" to actually trigger it)

His ability, Revolt of the Body doesn't actually do much, primarily because it's not much of an ability and functions more like Great Old One. It's main point of use is just shapeshifting and letting Tatsumi be able to do that without becoming unstable again. But... perhaps it does have other capabilities yet to be seen...

Tatsumi is fairly laid back but is also frequently bored and gets sleepy if his interest isn't held. He seeks out a lot of novelty to keep himself entertained (and yes as a result he is easily taken in by video games for those dopamine hits. Please don't let him near a casino.) He's rather sluggish in most aspects but when excited can cause a lot of accidental damage by forgetting how strong he is. He has a penchant for theatre and art and can be found skulking around galleries or performance halls people watching or waiting for plays or dances to begin.

He's designed to evoke a python or anaconda 🐍

References: Tatsumi Hijikata and his solo work Hijikata Tatsumi and Japanese People: Revolt of the Body

Mina Shibusawa-Stoker

Mina is the middle child of the Stoker triplets (including her older brother Jonathan and younger sister Lucy aka Lulu).

Her ability, White Wyrm Lair lets her hypnotize others. The ability takes the form of a crystalline looking serpent that inflicts a setting bite, its venom making the victim extremely susceptible to suggestion. Mina can choose to activate the latent venom at whatever point she chooses, provided the ability hasn't been deactivated in the time passed.

She's got a lot of confidence and can be a bit of a trickster, using her charms for her own amusement. She's also very into luxury and likes to lounge around. She's honestly got knife cat energy, which I love for her.

Her reptile is a komodo dragon 🐉

References: Mina Harker (character in Bram Stoker’s Dracula), Bram Stoker novel The Lair of the White Worm

Yukio Shibusawa

Yukio's one of the two "middle children" of the group (along with Slava, who isn't discussed here since they aren't a Shibusawa kid).

He's fairly laid back, or at least appears that way in terms of his introspective nature. He gets on well with most people and tries to be accommodating but can end up as a pushover in his attempts to people please conflicting against his own wants.

While he doesn't have an actual ability, he does eventually gain access to The Book. That plays a lot into his character and arch so I don't actually want to say too much about it here to avoid spoilers, sorry about that.

While it wasnt initially intended, for some reason he reminds me most of a snapping turtle 🐢

References: Yukio Mishima, assorted work by Mishima (Confessions of a Mask, The Frolic of the Beasts, The Sea of Fertility tetralogy (Spring Snow, Runaway Horses, The Temple of Dawn, and The Decay of the Angel))

Epsilon Shibusawa

Epsilon is the baby of the family!

Because they're so young I don't have too much to say unfortunately.

They don't have an ability of their own but did end up inheriting access to Draconia's fog. They're very clingy to their family and don't like to be far from them or in new places around new people. They're generally very anxious and withdrawn, but they enjoy listening to stories and solving puzzles, which helps feed their curiosity.

While designed with the inspiration of a hognose snake, they also take some aspects from crocodilians 🐊

References: the greek letter Epsilon, Tatsuhiko Shibusawa’s The Song of the Eradication and The Rib of Epicurus

Bonus "Fun" Fact!:

The reason all of them have dragonic hybrid physiology is as a result of being fused with energy from Draconia. Tatsumi is of course his own special case in regards to that being a literal singularity and Revolt Of The Body making it possible for him to shift just how human vs monster he appears.

The others are permanent, with their horns growning from the spot in their skulls where Shibusawa embedded shards of Draconia gems into them, thus making them hybrids just like him.

#monstercule #bungo stray dogs #bsd #prologue epilogue dialogue #stray cats verse #oc: tatsumi shibusawa lovecraft #oc: mina shibusawa stoker #oc: yukio shibusawa #oc: epsilon shibusawa #bungou stray dogs #bsd oc #bsd ocs #bsd fankid #bsd shipkid #bungo stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs oc

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