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iknowicanbutwhy · 3 years ago

Note

Well I love your bkdk Miraculous au and I want all the answers. What's the Love Square like?

Oh friend, buddy, pal, you're askin' a big question here that this entire AU is gonna revolve around and I just made this up two nights ago.

But I gotchu.

TLDR; Bakugou likes Midoriya, Midoriya is wary of Bakugou, Chat Noir is insecure around Bug, Bug really likes Chat Noir. These relationships evolve as time goes on.

so. This ENTIRE AU is secretly a REVERSE LOVE SQUARE AU.

cue evil laughter.

A'ight, in order for y'all to understand this, I need you to know that Bakugou actually acts like his prototype version at school, because he's heavily... encouraged by his parents to maintain a pleasant attitude, and it's something he's practiced since sometime after he stopped interacting with Mido as a kid. Helps make photo shoots go faster, keeps his reputation smooth, you know. You'd think he wouldn't care at all, right? I partially blame the fan mail; it can be really horrible (cough cough thinking of Social Media 101 on AO3)

You also need to know that Baku and Mido were childhood friends in this AU; Baku hasn't had real friends since he stopped interacting with Mido all those years ago, so Mido hasn't left his memories, and Mido has more or less moved on and actually forgotten Baku's name and face.

Mido remembers him as Kacchan, of course, and as the kid that was really mean but also really ironically charismatic, leader-like, talented, and with enough self assurance that Mido was almost jealous. For another kid his age, Baku was impressive.

So of course Mido would not recognize his Kacchan AT ALL through the pleasant, fake attitude and lack of stark crudeness. As a matter of fact, it kind of pisses Mido off just how dishonest Baku seems, and it changes the context of whatever helpful thing Baku says. Instead of seeing Baku as socially awkward and mean yet helpful, he sees Baku as manipulative and using his knowledge to make others feel dumb and make himself feel superior.

The one (1) thing that convinced tiny child Mido that Kacchan wasn't all that bad was that he knew Kacchan was always just. Honest. Honestly calling you a dumbass, honestly helping you be less of a dumbass. Baku of the current day seems dishonest and is definitely rude.

Baku, though, does remember Mido. And he likes this dude that doesn't take shit from his "pleasant" persona. Baku, like his prototype, does maintain the same sunny aura, but unlike his prototype, he tends to insult people on purpose. He tells them off for how shitty their homework is because - he very astutely and accurately presumes - they spend 8 hours every night wasting their life on games instead of studying for at least 2 standard hours. He says all that as politely as he can force himself, but he doesn't really realize that it comes out so much worse that way.

Whenever Mido recognizes this - and eventually he keeps a permanent eye out - he jumps in to amend Baku's statements to the person who's feelings had just been trashed. At first, he'd pull Baku aside and tell him how rude he's being. Then, Mido'd just glare Baku's way. Then, when Baku eventually admits his ineptitude in just trying to get some idiot to stop ruining their own grades, Mido tries to explain how important feelings are and how saying things in a certain way is hurtful. He can't explain it perfectly, though, because he's no social engineer and no therapist. It's a slow and frustrating process for both of them.

But Baku honestly appreciates it. HATES that he needs to to learn how to play nice all over again just to give people advice they should honestly be thankful for already, but appreciates the balls and willingness Mido has to actually do something instead of just sulking or sitting by when things go wrong.

He won't admit it, but it's nice reconnecting with an old friend who liked him when he didn't wear a mask, who probably maybe likes him now behind the mask because Mido hasn't called on any teachers yet or turned the class against him, even if Mido acts fed up as heck. He likes to tease Mido with tiny bits of knowledge he still has on Mido from when they were kids, like things Mido likes and fears. Though it's not always accurate, when it works he gets to see Mido all flustered. He's wondering how long it'll take the dumbass to remember him.

OH MAN AND THAT'S ONLY HALF THE LOVE SQUARE. The next segment is quicker, though.

Bug is reminded of his Kacchan when it comes to Chat Noir, who acts like himself in-costume. he defends Chat Noir vehemently whenever accusations of being another villain are thrown around, and is still pretty desensitized from Kacchan's brand of crudeness so much that he sees the good in Chat's actions.

Chat Noir is honestly incredibly pissed whenever Bug takes the lead and HATES that the ladybug and chat noir miraculouses are tied together like they are. He gets more and more angry when Bug defends him against the accusations being thrown around, but once he gets out of that delusion of his that Bug thinks he's better than Chat and that nobody can really like his asshole (true) persona, he starts to honestly appreciate it. For a while, he wondered if Bug only kept him around to keep an eye on him, like he really was a villain. It hurt more than he let on.

Beyond any of the drama, when they just get lost in each other, they get along pretty well. Patrols can be really fun and chill.

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lu-undy · 3 years ago

Text

Un-alone, Chapter 11

Here it is!

“D’you think he’ll be back for dinner?” Philip looked through the kitchen window.

“I don’t know, Phil. I hope he will…”

“Carrie…” Philip went to his sister who was making some dinner. “Don’t worry, he’s a big boy.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that… Ugh, guess I was wrong.”

“About what?” He asked the worried mother.

“I thought that he went away with his van only because of work but if he does it here as well, then surely it’s for other reasons.”

“He might be out havin’ fun in a bar or somethin, eh?”

“Nah, Micky’s not like that.” She answered.

“You don’t know. Maybe he is.”

Phil’s answer made Caroline stop stirring the pan and frown.

“You boys were up late yesterday?” She asked.

“We just watched a bit of TV with a beer. You seem awfully worried but you know him better than I do, why would you fret that much?”

“Because… Because I guess you’re right in the grand scheme of things.” She admitted in a sigh.

“About what?”

“I don’t know him that well, I guess.”

“Listen, he’s a man and his job is to deal with danger, he’ll be fine. Would you worry for me if I went out all day?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t but-”

“So then don’t worry about him!” Phil cut her and Caroline pushed her glasses up her nose.

“I know but I can’t help it. Force of habit, I guess. I’m used to always waiting like that. Sometimes he does come back home, sometimes he doesn’t and I stay up late, hoping that if I wait half an hour more, he’ll appear at the door.”

Phil sighed.

“Look, I asked a few favours at work.”

“Oh?” She answered. “About what?”

“About Micky. You said he’d gotten himself somethin’ to do with the police that he couldn’t talk about. So I thought, as a policeman myself, I could surely get the info.”

“Right, I see, so what did you find out?” She asked excitedly.

“Nothin’.”

“What?” Caroline’s eyebrows jumped.

“I mean, he did stuff for the police and it was so important that it’s sort of uh… a bit… classified?”

“What?!” Caroline repeated.

“Look, I know you’re worryin’ about him but if he’s called in for jobs like that, then he’s much, much better at his job than what you and Mike imagine.”

“What do you mean?” Caroline turned the stove off and turned to her brother who had taken a seat around the dinner table.

“I mean that he wasn’t just called by the local police for pest control or somethin’. He was paid heftily to buy not only his services but his silence too. Gosh, I’m proud of that boy…!”

Caroline however, was terrified.

“Hold on, hold on…” She went to sit in front of her brother. “Phil, you’ve got to be clear and tell me. Is he only huntin’ or…?”

“Hell if I know!” Phil answered. “But one thing’s for sure, you should be proud of him instead of scared. That boy, whatever he’s doin’ exactly, he’s doin’ it outstandingly.”

“Oh God…” Caroline sighed and shook her head as she lowered it. She grasped the tea towel in her hand harder.

“What?”

“We’re not so scared as to how his huntin’ goes, with Mike. He was the one to teach him and Micky’s always been careful, nah…”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Exactly what you described, Phil. In a way, we’d have hoped he wouldn’t be too good with a rifle. You never know what you can make a man do if you pay him handsomely. But now that you tell me he’s been off doin’ some classified stuff… Gosh…” Caroline hid her face in her hands. “That’s the worst…”

“Why d’you think he was refusin’ to tell you what he was doin’ then?”

��Cause he doesn’t like to talk about his job to us!”

“Yeah but he doesn’t like it cause he never gets a good word out of either of you for it!” Phil answered. “Look, the way I see it, you guys are doin’ all you can to make him not open up to you.”

“What?”

“Y’know what, let’s have dinner and I’ll explain.”

“Alright, then lay the table out, yeah?”

“Sure.”

They both rose from their chairs and got busy. Philip laid the table for three, in case Mundy would come back from whatever he was doing and Caroline finished her cooking. When they resumed their seats, their plates were full and smoking hot.

“Oh, let me just grab some water, I forgot…” Phil came back with a jug of fresh water. “There.” He sat down and put it on the table between his sister and himself. “Now, that smells delicious…!”

“It’s only spaghetti with a tomato sauce and the leftover ground beef from lunch, eh?”

“Still, smells awfully good, thanks Carrie…” Philip took a taste and closed his eyes with a wide smile. “Gosh that’s almost like Mum’s. You took me centuries back, heh!”

They exchanged a chuckle.

“So, Phil, what did you mean?”

“With what?”

“With what you said about Micky? That we somehow pushed him not to open up to us?”

“Yeah…” Philip wiped his mouth before going on. “Here’s my take on things. I talked to him and I’ve talked to you, so I got to see both sides of the coin, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So I think he doesn’t talk to you about anythin’ cause he’s just tired of the whole ‘it’s dangerous, do somethin’ else with your life’ speech. Meanwhile, you worry not only cause he does hunt at the end of the day, but also because he’s damn good at it, to put it mildly.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Hearing the same speech over and over again, it’s gotta be tiring for you and Mike you, don’t it?”

“It is…” Caroline nodded slowly, defeated. “But what else can we do? He’s about forty and a grown up man. Can’t scold him for it anymore.”

“What if you genuinely tried to understand his job a bit better? Have you ever tried just askin’ him not with the intention of tellin’ him off for it?”

Caroline took a deep breath. “I guess not.”

“Well then, start from there. I’m sure he’d love to tell you both about what he likes and all. But you gotta allow him to. Otherwise, he’s just gonna close up like a clam!”

“Yeah, that’s true…” She looked left and right, half ashamed, half distraught at the idea that it was her fault if her son wasn’t very open with her. “Did you…?”

“Did I what?” Phil asked.

“Well you’ve been havin’ your evenings between boys and all, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask him about… Y’know… Sheilas?”

“Oh girls? Yeah, I have.”

“And?” She asked, expecting some news like some would expect a miracle.

“Nothin’.”

“What d’you mean again with ‘nothin’?”

“Well, literally just that! He’s told me he doesn’t have a girlfriend or anythin’ like that and I think he’s bein’ honest about it…!”

“But?” Caroline knew her brother and she could hear the ‘but’ coming.

“But there’s something.”

"What? You think he was lying? You think he does have a girlfriend?”

“No, nah. I think there’s somethin’. I don’t exactly know what but I see it in his eyes. He’s not just shy. There’s somethin’ in that heart of his that he’s hidin’.”

“Like what?” Caroline asked.

Philip took the jug of water and poured some for both of them.

“Hell if I know…”

-- Miles away --

Mundy raised his eyes to the sky. He took a deep breath. The air smelt the same as back home. The desert here was very different, yet he felt home there, in the middle of nowhere, a nowhere that he did not know and that didn’t know him either.

The sky’s colours were changing as the sun set gently and Mundy stared in the distance. He was on his van’s rooftop, as far as possible from any and all cities, where his thoughts could be let out free. He could speak them out, or even scream them, shout everything he could not when he was around his family.

But Mundy did not have that hot blood that would prompt him to do so. Instead, he just thought about it, without the rampant pressure of his uncle or his mother trying to pop his bubble of intimacy. He thought the words that he wished he could say to a friend, a confidant.

God, I wish.

He thought.

God I wish I could find someone nice.

He looked up at the sky and wished on every star he saw.

Why?

Because he so damn wished. He closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered the last time he had a pleasant and meaningful conversation with anyone. That had happened years ago and had cost him his last friend. The one and only person who had understood why his eyes would linger on masculine silhouettes more than feminine ones. They had understood it, and left him, right after giving him that sideways disgusted look.

Mundy sighed.

He then remembered how it had felt, his first time with a man, and then the other times. The first time was as awkward as it should have been. The ones that followed worked better and better as far as the choreography of moves go. However, there was something that Mundy found tiring. Whoever this partner was -- and it often was a drunk partner found in a pub after a long day of work -- they were always both way past tipsy and not really enjoying more than the physical satisfaction of the act. Sometimes, Mundy would wake up hungover and with a headache that would make him want nothing but to get rid of his catch of the night, so to speak.

There were no feelings, no attachment, no longing.

And it got the Aussie thinking. He came to a point where he thought he would rather remove the physical relief to only keep the meaningful discussions, should a choice arise. Better a good friend, than a mute one night stand.

Unsurprisingly, following such a line of thought, he had grown to prefer his own company and stopped making any effort to find the man his heart and mind dreamt of. He contented himself with his internal monologues and, when his body asked of him, of a solitary kind of intimacy.

Mundy was in that complete contradiction of craving the company of someone else and hating it at the same time. Having to put up with someone else, changing to please them, to voluntarily close his eyes to whatever they did that he did not like…? Pff, he didn’t have any patience for that anymore.

So all he had left was to dream. To fabricate a reality of his own where he did have that man. He didn’t need to be good-looking, he didn’t need to be rich. He just needed to understand Mundy, to put up with his long silences, with his sacred intimacy, not in the sexual meaning, no. That man just needed to understand that Mundy was such a mess inside that he preferred to keep to himself. If that dream man could do all that, oh, Mundy was satisfied. If that dream man could understand that Mundy liked his own company not because he hated people, but because they did not understand him. What choice did he have? He couldn’t do anything else?

It wasn’t like he could cure it or help it. He had tried, to no avail. He just was this way, a way that not even his family could know, because if they did, they would push him away too. But he only had them, nothing else! His mother and father were all that Mundy had, and if he had to make that choice, well it was all thought through! He would of course keep his family.

That choice, he both didn’t have it and made it anyway everyday.

No man had caught the Aussie’s interest for more than just a look. He had tried more of course but was most often stopped by the fact that they were normal. They liked women, unlike him. Well, he liked them, but preferred men, greatly so. Thus Mundy would move on yet again, only to end up in his comfortable solitude.

It was comfortable only because it was familiar. Yet now, he had learnt to live with it, live with the loneliness, like a tattoo that spanned all over his skin, that only he could see. His parents could see it too, but did not see it the right way. God only knew what they thought of him, apart from the usual disappointment at his job, and his single status.

Speaking of his parents…

Mundy blinked repeatedly as he landed back from his day-dreaming.

His mother and uncle might be waiting for him for dinner. The Aussie moved and went down the ladder at the back of his van before he went to the driver’s seat. What time was it? Bugger, late enough…

“Oh is that you Micky?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, I’m back, sorry I didn’t see time fly…” He removed his hat and went to sit around the table.

"We just finished eatin', son." Phil answered.

"Ah, sorry again, I didn't mean to skip dinner with you."

"It's alright, Micky."

He started digging in while his mother started the washing up. His uncle stayed at the dinner table with him.

“Really good Mum.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“So, uh, you been alright, Micky?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, I just uh…”

“As long as you're safe, it’s all that matters.” Caroline interrupted her washing up and Mundy gasped when he felt her hands on his shoulders and her lips on his cheeks. He blushed. "Phil, can you give us a minute?"

"Sure. I'll go and give some food to Marty." The old man took his cane and left the kitchen, making sure he closed the door after himself.

"I know, Mum… Look, I really didn't see how late it was gettin' and-"

"Micky." She interrupted him and turned to sit in front of him. "I don't mind it. I want to talk to you about somethin' else."

"Oh?"

"Look, I think… I think that in all these years, we might have been doin' the wrong thing, your father and I."

"What d'you mean?" Mundy put his fork down and frowned.

"I mean that… Uh… Now that I'm far from him and I talked to Phil a bit… I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About the way your father's always… y'know, he's always been on your back and-and I guess I was too. We've always been tellin' you off about your job and always been worried and all but… But Phil told me a bit more and I think that we completely missed what we should have done."

She raised her eyes to her son and slid her old hand to grab his, several shades darker than her own.

"Micky… I want to apologise. I never wanted you to shut yourself up like a snail in his shell and I know that you did that because your dad and I've been always pressurin' you."

Mundy opened wide, round eyes.

"I…"

"Let me finish, baby." She clenched her fingers on his hand. "Look at me, sweetheart." Mundy raised his eyes to his mother again. "Please, tell me about you."

Her eyes and her overall face looked both so distraught and so compassionate that Mundy lost his tongue.

"I… What d'you want to know?"

"Everythin'." She answered. "I feel like the only thing I know about you is what you like to eat, it's… It's terrible. So please, Micky, tell me."

Mundy's blush could hardly be deeper. He didn't like being put on the spot that way. But on the other hand, what his mother had just said was… a miracle!

"I don't know what to say really…"

"Anythin', and I won't tell a thing to your dad. If anythin', I'll try and make him understand what Phil opened my eyes to. We've grown apart not because of your job or anythin', but because of us."

"I… Mum...Thank you."

"Aw…" Caroline stood up and went to hug her son's head. He laced an arm around her waist and clenched his grip on her hand. She gently brushed his hair and bent down to kiss it. "Now, tell me more about your job, yeah? And please, be honest and all, I promise I won't be mad at you, I love you, Micky…"

Mundy was shocked and astounded. So that was what it had taken? A visit to Phil without his dad?

"Mum, I… I'm so glad that you tell me this... Oof, sorry…"

"Aw, gettin' emotional, eh?"

Mundy silently nodded against his mother. He pushed his chair back and stood up to hug her better, and closed his eyes.

"Tell you what, I'll make some tea and I'll send Phil away, then you can tell me more, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah." Mundy nodded as he felt his mother gently tap his back. "Alright, I'll uh.. I'll give you a hand with the dishes, yeah?"

"Good boy."

They exchanged a smile and both got to work. Mundy finished washing the dishes and Caroline readied the kettle. She disappeared off the kitchen only to reappear a few minutes later.

“Right, Phil wanted to go to bed so he’s there. It’s just you and me tonight, Micky.”

“Oh, alright, I’m done with the dishes.”

“Can you grab the cups for the tea, baby?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later, both were in the living-room enjoying a cup of tea on the sofa. The television was low, just enough to fill the silence but not too loud.

“So, Micky, go ahead.”

Mundy took a deep breath. He stared into his tea and sighed.

“Mum, I-I don’t really hunt for animals.”

“What d’you mean?” She asked and raised a curious eyebrow.

“I… I try to save them.”

“Save them?”

“I go after poachers.” Mundy explained with his head low.

“What do you mean? D’you… Hurt them?”

“I… I try not to. I put them to sleep most of the time. But some of them do come back and don’t learn.”

“What d’you do in that case?”

Mundy’s eyes zigzagged left and right. Caroline scooted over closer to him and took his hand in hers.

“Hey, it’s alright, whatever it is, I’d rather know.”

Mundy took a deep breath.

“I… I don’t kill them or anythin’ but… I scare them.”

“Micky, please, just tell me.” She clenched her hand on his.

“I shoot them but I make sure it doesn’t kill them. I know where to aim to hurt, not to kill.”

“Oh…”

"They're never alone so there's always someone to get them out of there and get fixed."

"What do they say when they extract a bullet out of him? Surely they call the police and start enquirin'?" Caroline asked, frightened for her son.

"When I do that, I don't shoot bullets. I shoot canines that you can get from dead animals. There are many from the wild reserves. Sometimes, their oldest beasts die and that's the only thing I ask of them."

"You're in touch with the reserves? I didn't know that." Caroline frowned.

"Yeah. Sometimes, they call me to have a look cause some poachers would have stolen their beasts. It's then my job to track them down, find them and we can organise them bein' brought back home. Of course, sometimes I come too late and the beast's dead. But most of the time, I manage to find them and have them go back to the reserve they come from safely."

Caroline took a deep breath and sighed. She was still frowning.

"Uhm…" Mundy looked left and right. "Y-you alright, Mum? Did I go too far?"

"And those reserves are your clients?" She asked, ignoring Mundy's question.

"Yeah, most of the time it's reserves; rarely, it's zoos."

"Or the police, eh?" She added.

"Uh, y-yeah…" He lowered his head.

"So you try to save those beasts from poachers, is your job, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And you don't kill either one or the other."

"Nah, never. When I get the poachers hurt, I guess they go to hospital and try to explain that they did hear a gunshot but the doctors must tell them that it's the shock of bein' bit so deep. In the end, they remove the tooth and patch them up. Those things never go too deep in the tissues."

"How d'you shoot teeth?"

"Custom bullets… It's uh… it's technical and I'm sure you'd be bored to hear all about it."

"Hm. So you just hurt the blokes?"

"Yeah, that's the worst case scenario."

"And you don't kill or hurt the beasts?"

"Nah, I don't."

"How do you transport them back to where they belong?"

"I don't, I usually shoot them with a good dose of tranq' shots and then call the reserve to arrange for collection. I stay nearby, just to make sure the beast doesn't get preyed on or anythin'."

"Right…"

Silence fell during which Caroline fell deep in thought.

"Mum… Uh… J-just to make sure you maybe understand better, I'm… I'm the only one who does that. You can hire hunters left and right but, I'm the only one who never kills the beast in the end. They don't deserve it. People sometimes…" Mundy shook his head. "They behave like animals, not actual animals. Actual animals just look to eat, sleep and mate. People go and meddle with them for their skins, their furs, their whatever that's expensive. I'd understand it if we were ten thousand years back and you need the leather and all. But in this day and age? Nah, leave them alone. Just look at them, take care of them if you're knowledgeable. Other than that? Just… Just leave them in peace. They don't need us."

"Gosh."

Caroline reflected on those words. The last time that Mundy had talked to her for that long was… When even was that? She couldn't remember. And she knew he liked animals and felt more empathy to them than he would to people sometimes, but she had never heard him word it all out.

"Micky?"

He didn't dare say or move anything and just remained petrified.

"Micky, I'm proud of you."

His head swooshed back up to look at his mother.

"I still need to wrap my head around all this but… You're not harmin' or hurtin' anyone and you're saving those poor souls, bringing them back home." Caroline hugged her son. "I'm so relieved…!"

He hugged her back.

"What did you think I was doin'?"

"Huntin' beasts and all, but exactly to sell them to people who want to hurt them, take their skin or whatever!"

"I'd never do that, Mum, even if they'd pay me billions."

Caroline had her head buried against her son's chest.

"I'm so, so happy you're not doin' anything dodgy…"

"Nah, I don't. I… Truth is I could, but I know you and Dad would be worried, so I don't. And I'm not doin' any of this for the money, even though it pays well. I'm doin' it cause I'm the only one who can."

"Micky?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, baby."

Both smiled, still clinging to each other on the sofa.

"Will you tell Dad?"

"I'll try. But not over the phone, I'd rather have him face to face for this."

"Yeah, thanks."

"And uh… Micky?"

"Yeah?"

Caroline pulled herself out of the embrace.

"Can I ask you somethin' else?"

"Sure." He smiled.

"What about… this?" Caroline put her hand on her son's chest and lightly tapped his heart. Mundy's smile vanished.

"I… I'm quite tired, Mum. Is that ok if I go to sleep?"

"Sure, baby."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

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georgemackayhey · 5 years ago

Text

Remember Me?

"Could you please write something where the reader knows George from a long time ago and runs into randomly him after he's gotten famous? Really fluffy please?" - annon

This was so fun to write! Thanks for askin' nonny!

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat in the airport, swinging your legs from the barstool of some overpriced pizza bar. Your flight to London had been delayed for a couple of hours and you'd ran to the food court for a distraction. While sipping from a soda, you cast your glance around the waiting gates, wondering where everyone was going, and what they might have been waiting for.

Then you saw him. George, your old school mate. Well, someone you went to school with. He was the boy who once gave up his seat on the swingset when you asked politely. You'd shared a few classes together, and maybe even a few hellos. But George couldn't possibly recall those times. George probably wouldn't even recognize you . Especially now that he was some big famous movie star.

Over the past year, you'd mindlessly scrolled past all the social media buzz that George's new film had gotten and felt selfishly blue because you wanted to say hello to him now. But you didn't want to waste his very important time.

Instead, you looked away from George as he meandered sleepily through a passing crowd while you turned, gathering your rubbish and heaving a sigh.

When you landed back in the waiting gates, you lazily tapped through your phone trying to avoid the time slowly passing time in the corner. There were still a couple of hours to kill, and you'd already wasted forty minutes at the pizza bar. When you scrolled past an advert for 1917 you couldn't help but stifle a giggle, feeling quite proud of how far your classmate had come. The only thing you were known for was-

"Fainting nurse?"

Who just read your mind? You looked up in a flash, eyes wide and startled.

You hadn't been addressed like that since school. You'd managed to fly under the radar every year, but you just had to try stepping out of your comfort zone. So, you auditioned for the last year's production of Romeo and Juliet. You could blame your family for pushing you to try out. Or the costume that was way too hot to be wearing on a stage under all those lights. Even after giving it your all during rehearsal, the second you stepped on stage to deliver your first big line, you stammered, looked to the impatient girl playing Juliet, and passed right out.

Through rumors, you heard that Juliet dragged you by the ankles off the stage in a huff. You woke up in the hall with a real nurse waiting calmly by your side and your family scurrying to come and make sure you were alright.

The last year of high school was a bit hellish. But George was playing Romeo then. And every time you noticed him around someone who tried to scare you bad enough to get you to faint, he would shut them down and apologize to you on their behalf.

Funny how it was him standing in front of you now, addressing you by the only name he probably knew you by. You couldn't blame him. Even then, everyone around wanted a piece of George's time. He probably hadn't the time to learn anyone's names who wasn’t begging him too.

"Fancy seeing you here." George seemed to smile. You realized that you hadn't said anything or even moved from your stunned position as he moved toward you, pulling his luggage in tow. George sat in the seat at your side, keeping his smile bright and his eyes on you.

"H-hi." You managed to get out. Oh God, you might have blacked out again from all the recovered embarrassment and sudden attention. George was always nice looking but now, he was downright handsome. And he was looking right at you.

"Did I ever tell you that during my first musical I had to run off before the first song ended and get sick backstage? I was so bloody nervous... I think I talked myself into the upset, really." George confessed, slumping in his chair. His bright eyes flickered to his lap and you recognized his genuine tone.

"Worst part was I didn't even make it to the bins." George cringed, looking back to you. You brought a hand to your lips, trying to disguise a giggle. Why was he telling you all this?

"Well, you seem to have recovered quite well, George." You nodded, acknowledging your acquaintance his status in school, and rise to practical stardom since.

"I'm still trying, really. Sometimes I get so worked up over an audition I try out just to get over feeling like I'm not good enough, ya know? It doesn't matter the outcome, so long as I make myself audition."

"Why are you telling me all this?" You laughed a little beside yourself. George had kept his soft gaze on you like a lifelong friend. The attention made your stomach fill with butterflies.

"Two reasons" The guy held up two fingers, ticking them off accordingly. "I wanted you to know you weren't the only one who was nervous of Juliet. Rudest castmate I ever had to pretended to like. She was vile wasn't she?"

George chuckled warmly. "And secondly my flight is delayed so I needed a bit of entertainment."

God, he was so naturally charming. It was he'd rehearsed this run in.

"Now, like then, I'm not one for entertaining." You chuckled. "But you were always kind to me. You never once tapped a photo of a fainting goat to my locker." You pointed to George, suddenly registering the last thing he'd just said to you.

"Kids are brutal." George softened, tossing you an apologetic grimace. But you'd mentally moved on from the topic.

"You said your flight was delayed? Mine too." You grinned, sitting up a little straighter like this was good news. It only took a minute to realize you were on the same flight back home.

"How shall we pass the time?" George pulled a face, keeping his eyes on you.

"I suppose we could catch up." You playfully shrugged with a roll of your eyes. You didn't miss how George's sparkled.

Somehow, the next couple of hours passed in a flash. Between exchanging conspiracy theories and things you'd been up to since school, (and taking a painfully slow lap around the proximity of the waiting gate) it was time to board your shared flight.

Of course, fate would have it that George was sitting one row up and away from you. He made a show of pouting as you walked past him, because neither of you could deny the fun you'd had killing time together so far. Sitting so close yet so far away would make the seven-hour flight painfully boring.

But it wasn't long after you'd reach maximum elevation, that you spotted George popping his head in the aisle and waving you up to join him. The flight was only half full, due to many rescheduling after the delay. But you were still concerned about etiquette. You'd have to cross over the woman next to you, scramble a few steps forward and probably end up making a fool of yourself in the process.

You tried to stop George from whispering your name like a child. Even when you mouth a curse word his way, he wasn't letting up. That's about the time a flight attendant waltzed by, bringing a passenger some water and winking right at you on the way. Whether it was to shut George up, or make your dreams come true could be determined later. All you could focus on now was excusing yourself past the woman at your side and changing seats as quietly as possible.

George had the whole row to himself, scooting toward the window seat and greeting you cheerfully as you plopped next to him.

You and George picked up where you left off, trading jokes and even a few somber stories. When he suggested watching a film on the in-flight entertainment screen, you made quick work of searching his name. You squealed out loud when you found a movie he was in and made sure to tease him endlessly about your lucky score. During scenes George showed up in, he hid his face in his hands at your side. And after a beat of teasing him a little more, you couldn't help but point out his honest and impressive talent.

About four hours in, your eyes drooped and you fell asleep before you could stop your forehead from landing on George's shoulder. You woke up to find him watching out the window, but the blue of the sky was nothing compared to his eyes, especially when he turned and looked at you then.

"Sorry." You mumbled, stretching away from him to the tune of the pilot announcing the flight's landing in a few short minutes.

Neither of you spoke as the flight landed, even though you tried too. What was the proper way to part ways, after such spontaneous fun? The trouble was you didn't want to part ways, not at all.

When you stood to leave the aircraft, George kept his pace in time with yours as you stretched into the airport. Maybe it was because it was three in the morning, and he was too tired to be in any kind of hurry. Whatever it was, you relished the last bit of time you were lucky enough to share with the handsome man.

He even lingered near you while you waited at the luggage carousel, staying silent all the while. You scrolled through your phone searching for a text from your ride who promised to fetch you some time ago. But instead, you found a string of texts from the person apologizing for canceling the last minute.

Oh, no. What were you going to do? After a quick google of the cab services in the area, you found all of them to be closed at such an hour. Your panic must have shown on your face as you googled an uber.

"What's that face for? Gonna pass out on me again?" George piped up. He was standing in front of you and seemed to have found your luggage (and his own) from the carousel and brought it over for you. But before you could thank him you shot him a look and went on to explain yourself.

"My ride's bailed. Perfect time to find out, huh?" You sighed nervously, looking back at your phone.

George clicked his tongue as you waited for uber to download.

"How far are you? I can give you a lift." George softened, locking eyes with you and reading your expression again.

"I've paid to keep my car here, since I wasn't sure when and how often I'd be home. I can give you a lift to yours if you'd like."

"George. That's too much to ask." You decided, starting to make an uber account.

"I'm serious!" George laughed a little. The sweet sound caused you to look up to him once more.

"Don't you have a red carpet to go get ready for, Mr. Mackay?" You shyly wondered, considering his offer.

"At long last, no. Thank God. Come on, y/n." George spoke your name, grabbing onto the handle of your suitcase. That's what sealed the deal. He'd recognized you all the way back at the last airport and spent hours delighting you in conversation. But he'd only just said your name for the first time since school. Maybe even the first time ever.

You had no choice but to float behind George, struggling to hide how smitten you'd become. Or maybe you'd always been.

George was still kind and cheery, even at four in the morning. In his car, he asked if you were warm and took a beat to enter your address in his GPS before taking off onto the eerily empty roadway. You were alone for the first time ever, but it felt natural. The silence in the car felt much like the shared, sleepy silence you shared during the last bit of your flight.

When your familiar neighborhood came into view, your heart sank. You still weren't ready for goodbye.

"Thanks for the lift." Peering to George as he parked his car outside your flat. He insisted on carrying your bags up the steps, hardly giving you time to decline him. George opened the passenger door for you and reached for your bags as you stood on the pavement.

"You've been far too kind. Thanks, George." You sighed, digging for your keys. He kept a groggy smile pointed your way as he followed behind up the steps.

"I guess now you know where to find me." You joked, jamming your key into the door, taking a big chance at slyly asking for a next time with George. He was standing beside you, searching your face as you glanced toward him. He waited a beat too long to respond and your nerves took over, fearing you hadn't made yourself clear enough.

"I seem to be having a hard time saying goodbye to you." You spoke, looking right at him with one hand on your door handle, ready to run behind it and hide in case he laughed in your face.

"What if... you didn't have to say goodbye?" George softly and slowly reasoned, casting a daring glance at your flat door. And with a couple of snickers and nervous nods, George made a joke about having already packed an overnight bag, and followed you inside.

It was a night you wouldn't soon forget.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

#george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #george mackay

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defeatedbyamerechild · 5 years ago

Text

How Guzma and Cyrus became close friends

(The following scene takes place in Giovanni’s mansion, a few months after the Villains had moved in to that place, and therefore happens previously to the moment depicted in our comics.)

-------

It's around 3PM, Giovanni is in his office, Archie and Maxie left for a walk and Lusamine is knitting in the backyard with her Pokémon. Lysandre is in his room recording a make up tutorial and no one knows where Ghetsis is, but no one really cares much. Cyrus has just finished sweeping the floor. He enters the living room to find Guzma lying on the couch, reading his diary.

CYRUS – Guzma! What the... What are you doing with my diary?!

Cyrus quickly approaches Guzma and tries to grab the diary from his hands, but Guzma dodges him.

GUZMA – Yo, Relax, Cy-boy! I was just takin' a look! Nothin' much, just readin' a bit of it!

CYRUS – [angry, but trying to hide it] Well, “a bit of it” is already too much! It's a diary, that means it's personal Therefore, you shouldn't be reading any of it. Now give it back to me!

GUZMA – Sheesh... [gives him the diary] Here, don't be so friggin' anxious, dude! What's the matter with sharin' your secrets with a friend after all? Are you hidin' anythin'? [giggles]

CYRUS – [still annoyed] No! The matter is that I did not choose to share anything with you. You just went and... started meddling in my personal stuff. Which I very much disapprove, if you allow me to add!

GUZMA – Tsc... Meh. Chill! Not doin' it again, if it bothers ya that much! [He winks at Cyrus, smiling].

CYRUS – [in a rather sarcastic way] Thanks for that, although I do not believe you...

Cyrus sits on the couch one seat away from where Guzma is. Hugging his diary against his chest, he wonders what Guzma could have read from it. There's a brief silence.

GUZMA – Yo...

Cyrus glances at him, a little bit apprehensive, for his housemate might bring up something from his diary.

GUZMA – Y'know, I was just... thinkin'... Cause, like... You wrote there tha-[Cyrus interrupts him.]

CYRUS – I do not want to discuss anything I wrote. It's personal. And it's already bothersome enough to know that you read it, so please spare me the embarrassment of further explaining whatever it is you want to comment on...

GUZMA – Aw, c'mon, dude! Don't be like that!

CYRUS – Like what?

GUZMA – Like... y'know... Carin' so much about this and all!

CYRUS – [sarcastic] You mean having dignity?

GUZMA – [chuckles] You're so dramatic, bro...

Brief silence. Guzma stretches his arms and legs, trying to look as casual as possible before resuming his speech.

GUZMA – [with a carefree intonation] Anyways! You wrote it there that no one cares about ya, and, like... Dude, that's a pretty rough thing to say 'bout yourself, ey? [giggles]

Cyrus clenches his jaw and stares at his own feet, embarrassed and upset.

GUZMA – Tsc... Like, c'mon, why all that drama? Who broke your heart, eh? [giggles] You can tell ya old boy Guzma here!

CYRUS – [looking up at him] Sigh... Don't turn that into some romantic gibberish, Guzma! It has nothing to do with that.

GUZMA – Yeah? Right, whatever. Still somethin' must have happen'd if you feel like that. So! Who hurt ya?

CYRUS – [Looking away] Why are you asking me that? Why does it matter to you?

GUZMA – Meh. Dunno, dude. I'm curious. Also, like... That's not true.

CYRUS – What is not true?

GUZMA – That no one cares 'bout ya! Like, I do, for example! That's why I'm askin'! Makes sense, right?

CYRUS – [snorts sarcastically] Right.

GUZMA – I mean it, bro! I'm here for ya! [winks again] Now, go on! Tell me about those feels, I know you wanna talk about it!

CYRUS – [out of patience, very emphatic] No, you do not. How would you know that?

GUZMA – [still smiling, folding his arms behind his head] 'Cause why else would'ya write it in your diary? You feel like tellin' someone! That means you need to talk! [winks for the third time]

CYRUS – [looking away, trying to hide his amazement at Guzma's perceptive mind.] Well, even if that were the truth, this conversation is useless. You should know what hurt me by now, if you read my diary.

GUZMA – Yeah, true, but... I didn't read, like... all of it, y'know? As I told ya! I was just readin' a bit of it! 'Cause, y'know, I'm not that much of a passionate reader, like... [giggles] When you start with those huge chunks of text I just skip ‘em! I only read some short parts and that's all!

CYRUS – [not amused] Hm.

Cyrus glances around, discreetly checking if there's anyone else near. He then glances at Guzma, who is still smiling, as if nothing had happened. He sighs. He knows Guzma will not give up on his curiosity.

CYRUS – OK, so you want to know who hurt me? My parents did. That's all. Happy?

GUZMA – [stops smiling and tilts his head to the right] Ya parents? Yo, really?

Guzma scratches his chin, as he sits up on the couch.

GUZMA – Dude, that's somethin'... Like, I know how that feels! My old man was also a real son of a Jynx, y'know? Like, real mean AF!

CYRUS – Oh. [frowns] I thought you said you had been raised in a sewer, by Raticates.

Guzma briefly widens his eyes and stops smiling, but soon goes back to his previous expression.

GUZMA – [giggling, trying to hide his awkwardness and make something up quickly] Eh, yeah but, like... He was a mean Raticate! Totally savage, like, real bad parentin'! Like Ghetsis, y'know?! [thinks for a second and corrects himself] Uh... Actually, no, not that bad. No one's bad like Ghetsis as a parent! Even a Raticate is better.

CYRUS – Ugh. Please do not involve Ghetsis in this conversation, he is the last person I would like to think of now... or ever.

GUZMA – [laughing] Heh! So you also hate old Ghetsis, ey?

CYRUS – I do not “hate”. Feelings are irrational and useless. I hate no one.

GUZMA – [smiling maliciously] Dunno, bro, you seemed to have a fistful of feelings to write about in your diary!

CYRUS – [keeping a straight face, but blushing] I don't know what you're talking about. [brief pause] But I guess I do prefer to keep my distance from Ghetsis.

GUZMA – Yeah, same. I dead serious hate that dude!

CYRUS – Why?

GUZMA – [Amazed] Dude, why?! Like, why would anyone not hate 'im?

CYRUS – [nodding] Point taken. Still, I do not see personal reasons for you to dislike him. Most of the time, he seems to ignore your presence.

GUZMA – Yeah, but dude's a big old friggin' stinky wild hog, like, what's wrong with that dude? He's a son of a Jynx who treats everyone like they're Pidgey poop! I don't need no personal reasons to dislike a guy like that!

CYRUS – That's fair enough.

GUZMA – Yeah, that dude doesn't care 'bout anyone but himself, that's a fact. [brief pause] And talkin' about “carin'”, let's go back to the main point here...

CYRUS – Sigh...

GUZMA – That is... You feel broken!

CYRUS – [offended] I don't- I never put it on those words! Actually, you're definitely over-interpreting things right now...

GUZMA – [Ignoring his protests] Why'dya feel like no one cares about you? [giggling] Do you feel needy or...?

CYRUS – [irrtated] Are you making fun of me?

GUZMA – [Skipping a seat on the couch to sit by Cyrus' side] Nah. I mean it for real. Why do you feel like that?

CYRUS – [annoyed again] Well, I thought it was pretty self-explanatory that when I said “no once cares”, I meant that I think other people don't give a flip about how I feel! Or about whether or not I'm even alive! [Guzma stares silently for a while and Cyrus blushes a bit, then takes a deep breath] I don't feel... appreciated. That's it.

GUZMA – [Suddenly more serious] Hm... That's rough...

CYRUS – [Slightly ashamed] Look, I only write about those things in my diary because my therapist says it will help me understand myself, all right? Please, stop making a big deal out of it. It's not. It's nothing important.

GUZMA – Dude, like... I ain't the one makin' a big deal out of it...

Cyrus widens his eyes a little again.

GUZMA – Like... I'm just talkin' about it 'cause it's not, y'know... normal? I mean, to feel that way, y'know? But I'm just chattin', like, casual talk! I ain't making a big deal outta anything! You're the one who's makin' big deal out of it, as if talkin' about that was a problem... Like, what's wrong with just talkin' about it?

Cyrus looks away.

GUZMA – Wanna know what? I've felt like that before. I'ma be honest with ya, Cyrus, I've felt like that too in the past! I mean, livin' in the streets is not that easy sometimes, y'know? And when you ain't got nothin' and people just walk by and pretend they don't even see ya, how do you think you're gonna feel?

Cyrus keeps looking to the other side.

GUZMA – But then, like... You end up findin' people who care! Like, I founded my team, made my friends, everythin' was all right! And screw the rest! So, like... Screw your parents, and Ghetsis and all of those Fudge-brained jerks like him! Life goes on and stuff. Things change. Time passes... Y'know?

CYURS – [looking at him with the corner of his eyes] Yeah, I suppose time doesn't usually just stop flowing in our dimension. Any other generic piece of advice?

GUZMA – [chuckles] Quite a sense of humor, eh, Cy-boy?

CYRUS – I don't have a sense of humor. What's the point of humor anyway?

GUZMA – Well, havin' fun!

CYRUS – What for?

GUZMA – Dude... like... for fun? [laughs] The heck of a question is that? There's no point! It just feels good!

CYRUS – Feeling good is just temporary. It will go away and you'll feel bad again later.

GUZMA – Which is just as temporary, 'cause you'll eventually feel good again! And so it goes! Ups and downs! Am I right? So instead of thinkin' about all that until you get a headache, why not just livin' your life?

CYRUS – The amount of cliches is gonna give me a headache, to be honest. What are you, a walking self-help book?

Guzma bursts into a sincere laughter, leaving Cyrus slightly surprised.

GUZMA – Now that's a better mood! See, you do have a sense of humor, it's just kinda acid! I like that! [giggles] Yeah I like that...

Cyrus stifles a chuckle and looks away again.

GUZMA – I saw that!

CYRUS – [Looking back at Guzma] What?

GUZMA – You smiled!

CYRUS – Must have been your imagination.

GUZMA – [chuckles] Right. [not that brief silence] But welp. Just to finish what I was sayin'. You had your share of pain in the past, like, you been hurt, I've been hurt, we all been hurt, 'K? Some more than the others, but...

CYRUS – You really don't give up on the cliches, do you?

GUZMA – Shush, let me finish! You had a rough past! OK! But that's over, dude. Look at us! We're livin' with friggin' Mr. Mafia Boss Giovanni here! I mean, dude's rich. Dude's above the law. Dude's nice. Kinda short-fused, I gotta say, but still nice! We got this big old house here... Free food... What else could we ask for, ey?

CYRUS – Aren't you deviating a bit from the topic?

GUZMA – Nah, I mean it! We're all livin' here now! And life here is good, is that not right? and like... You'll never see your parents again! Screw them! They're in the past!

CYRUS – They've been in the past for a long for me. This is not a problem anymore.

GUZMA – You were the one who brought up your parents...

CYRUS – Because you insisted on asking me about my wounds! But it's been a long time I haven't cared about my parents, and I don't intend to change that.

GUZMA – Yeah! Great! And now you've got a buncha people livin' with ya who are totally not like them! Like me and Maxie and Archie and Lusie and Lysandre... I mean. OK. Let's be honest, no one is like Lysandre, right? But still, we're all different from your parents! Just 'cause they made you feel like trash when you lived with them, that doesn't mean we all think you're trash too!

CYRUS – I'm not trash.

GUZMA – Yeah, that's the spirit, bro!

CYRUS – I-... OK. Whatever. Your point is...?

GUZMA – My point? [giggles] Dunno. Stop being an emo prick?

CYRUS – [rather offended] Well, I can be a caustic prick, since you prefer it.

GUZMA – [with a malicious smile once again] Nice, I love caustic humor! Then we kill two birds with one stone: you get your appreciation and I don't get none of your gloomy drama anymore!

CYRUS – What?! You frickin-... I'm not making any drama, you brought this up yourself! I didn't even want to talk about it!

Guzma laughs a bit and then taps Cyrus' back, making him a little bit uncomfortable.

GUZMA – Just jokin', bro! Relax!

Cyrus crosses his arms and looks away once again, slightly grumpy. Guzma quickly grabs his diary.

CYRUS – [turning back at Guzma and trying to grab the diary] Hey!

GUZMA – Now let me just add somethin' here!

CYRUS – [Still trying to get the diary back] What?! Guzma!

GUZMA – [writing with a pencil while dodging Cyrus] And... Here... we... go!

Guzma finishes writing and gives Cyrus his diary, which he grabs rather aggressively and immediately opens, searching for whatever Guzma wrote.

CYRUS – What have you written here?

Cyrus gets to his last entry. At the bottom of the page he finds Guzma's handwriting. It reads “Guzma slaps!”.

CYRUS – [sarcastic] How touching.

GUZMA – What? Disappointed? Didya expect a somethin' mallow like “we all wove you, Cywus! Pwease don't feel wejected anymowe!” [laughs].

CYRUS – [Closing his diary and rolling his eyes] Shut up...

GUZMA – Welp. Hope to see some more cheerful stuff next time I grab your diary!

CYRUS – Next time?! [Guzma ignores him]

GUZMA – [stands up] I'm off now. Gonna meet Plum for a beer! But, hey, let's do somethin' together any day, how 'bout that, ey, Cy-boy?

CYRUS – [rather lost] Uh... I...

GUZMA – Do you play chess?

CYRUS – Uh... Y-yes. I do.

GUZMA – Thought so! Let's play a game of chess tomorrow then! Deal?!

CYRUS – Well... I can't see why not.

GUZMA – Nice! [taps his shoulder and leaves, then stops and turns back, giving him finger guns and winking once again] See ya, bro!

Guzma leaves. Cyrus remains sitting on the couch, silent. He opens the diary again and stares at the bottom of his last entry for a few seconds. He grabs a pen and starts writing.

“Dear diary. Something rather peculiar just happened: I think I just made a friend... … That does not mean I give you permission to read my diary, Guzma. Close it. Now.”

------ (Scene by GabiWaffle)

#DBAMCWrittenScenes #Skull Boss Guzma #galactic boss cyrus

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theassassinscape · 5 years ago

Text

*Insert good title* We're Home

Hi all!! So, um, first thing I've written, had an idea for this for a while. Hope y'all enjoy and feedback is appreciated!!

Language, angst and fluff if you look hard enough. 2,153 words, I went all out.

Bucky Barnes X mutant!reader

(I don't know man ❤️ italics are flashbacks)

"I think I'll do it." Bucky said, his hand holding his glass of whiskey so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Go on, she looks like she's about to leave," Steve encouraged, looking over to you, "I think it's worth a shot." He said, while taking an actual shot. Bucky never understood why they'd go out drinking. It's not like they could get drunk from everyday alcohol; the only time they'd succeed in doing so was when Thor had the Asgardian Liquor on him, and after Thanos was gone and Loki was back, he had recovered and barely touched alcohol. So the duo weren't too familiar with the feeling.

"I can't. Look at her. She could break my arm in 12 different places while still looking angelic," Bucky groaned, turning back around to face the bar, downing the rest of the whiskey. "I can't."

"Maybe if you say that to her she'll give you a chance? C'mon Buck, you barely go out, you need to give it a try!" Steve exclaimed, patting Bucky's shoulder. It made him sad; even though most of Bucky had returned, he wasn't fully here yet. It looks like he forgot how to have fun like he had in the 40's.

After ordering two more whiskey's Bucky finally plucked the courage to stand up and walk over to you. He locked eyes on you like you were a target, and squeezed between sweaty, dancing bodies, heart hammering in his chest as he got closer. What if you thought he was a creep? Just another guy trying to approach you? He was certain others had their eyes on you the entire night. But one thing he had noticed, is that your booth was entirely empty, and no one dared come close to it, except the barman bringing you your drinks. His train of thought had brought him right to your table without him noticing.

"Can I help you?" God, your voice was melodic. Charming and a little bit hoarse, like you've been speaking all night, yet soft. Bucky couldn't describe it. He could listen to it all night.

"Umm... I, uh, jus-"

"Not today, Barnes."

Bucky's eyes widened. You knew him? Oh God, what if you knew him as the Winter Soldier? As the monster he was? What if he had gotten into trouble somewhere that he doesn't know about?

"I-I'm sorry?" Bucky stammered,

"You should be." You said, crossing your arms and leaning back into the cushioning of the booth. Bucky couldn't help staring. "You left me at the funfair, you bastard."

The amount of confusion that had clouded Bucky's mind was overwhelming. He did not remember a single mission where his target was at a fair, nor does he remember a girl as beautiful as the one before him. Maybe one, but the image was blurry.

"Sit." You ordered. You could see him searching, eyes wide and panicking. You wanted to investigate if he remembers you or not before you revealed yourself. You wanted to make him wait, like he made you at the fair.

He sat down immediately, stiffly and clearly uncomfortably, but his eyes never changed the panic they showed.

"How's Stevie?" You asked without looking at him, your golden dress hiking up as you stood up to pick up the drink the barman brought over. Bucky gulped louder than he had thought.

"Is he here?" You mumbled into your drink as it neared your lips, eyes still not meeting his, even though you could feel his burning stare on your face, trying to figure you out. The noise seemed to die out; it was deafening to Bucky while he was at the bar with Steve, thanks to his enhanced hearing, but with her it all seemed to fade away. His focus was only on her.

He gulped again, "Yeah, he's at the bar."

"Why didn't you bring him over? I bet he would've recognised an old friend straight away," you said, gently placing your glass on the mahogany table. Your fingers began tracing the edge, eyes still not meeting Bucky's. It drove him crazy.

"Old friend?" He dared to scoot closer to you, leaning his flesh arm on the table and covering his metal hand. "What's your name?"

And then you looked at him, and you both said the same thing, "Y/N."

His breath had stopped in his throat. His jaw clenched, and eyes widened. It couldn't be true. Someone was messing with his head again. You're not here. The love of his life is not here.

"C'mon Buck! I wanna go on that one!" You had pointed to the tallest Ferris wheel Bucky had ever seen. Even the brave Steve Rogers would shake in his boots at the sight of it.

"Ooor we could just stay here, doll," Bucky pulled you back into his chest, ocean eyes adoring your enchanting y/e/c ones. "I could stare at you all night. I could spend the whole night with you here, sugar." Bucky said, grabbing your jaw gently, lips getting dangerously close to yours. Your hands had travelled to his chest, to his neck, through his soft, chestnut hair, until you had knocked his cap down to cover his eyes.

"You can stare at me all you want when we're on the wheel, Sarge," you giggled, fixing the collar of his uniform, "and if you're lucky, you'll spend the entire night with me too," you had poked his nose playfully, bouncing away like a child towards the ride.

He couldn't believe he was lucky enough to have you. All his. The woman he was gonna marry, the one he was gonna show off to his ma, to Steve, to the whole world. You had such a presence; no-one dared mess with you, you stood your ground and was always so painfully honest, but you were caring, loving and sweet, and so, so beautiful. Bucky would never believe he deserved you, no matter how many times you'd tell him he deserves even more.

That's when he saw Steve wonder into another army enlistment tent. He looked at you once more, to know where to find you, and walked over to Steve. He was measuring himself again, and finding he was a whole foot and a half too short. It almost made Bucky angry. Bucky would much rather be able to stay here, with you, and not fight in this damned war, like Steve could stay. But he couldn't be mad. Never.

"No."

"Yes."

He let out a breath, "no."

"What is it, Barnes?" Your question almost sounded like a growl, your stance immediately changing, like you were about to fight him.

"You can't be here. You can't, you're messing with me..." Bucky had covered his face with his hands. Had he drunk too much? No, that wasn't it. Someone was playing a cruel joke on him.

"I'm here Barnes, we've got some explaining to do."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"This! You're messing with my head! Get out!" He had looked up, hands shaking, eyes glossy.

"I ain't going nowhere. This is my bar."

You had patiently waited. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 15. Bucky still hasn't gotten back. You saw him follow Steve into another army enlistment unit. You were happy he was helping out his friend, but a little upset that he abandoned you on what could be your last date. At least before he came back.

"Y/N Y/L/N, correct?" A man in a dark, green suit had approached you. He was quite handsome, a dark stubble decorated his face, brown eyes darker than the night. He was nowhere near as handsome as Bucky though. Your Bucky.

"Yes, who's askin'?" You turned to him fully, crossing your arms before you.

"Hm, sassy for a mutant. You'll be useful."

You felt your heart in your throat. How did he know? You morphed your fingers into knives and held them to his throat discretely, fully aware that you were in a queue where you could get in plenty of trouble.

"I don't know who you are or how you know, but if you speak a word of this to anyone and you'll be my next fucking meal, you understand?" You whispered, eyes searching his.

"Or you'll be mine." He smirked at the needle in your arm, injecting a substance that looked like liquid metal. Your last thought before you fell into the man's arms was Where's Bucky?

You had destroyed half the Hydra facility within the first couple of hours being there. Turned into a mammoth and wrecked a lab, or a swarm of hornets and stung the lab workers until they were a pile of blisters. You had turned your fist into vibranium in order to break the glass that they had surrounded you with. All to no use. They always found a way of injecting you with that shit, and you’d always find yourself either on a bed or with a chair, strange machinery attached to your face. Within the thousands of years that you’ve been alive you’ve never felt so useless, so helpless. You only hoped you got to see Bucky again soon.

And you had. 1962. He looked horrible. He was covered head to toe in weaponry. And he didn’t recognise you. He wasn’t Bucky. He was the Winter Soldier. The thing that Hydra wanted to make you into but failed miserably. So they got the thing closest to you. They dehumanised the thing that made you feel most human. Was it to get back at you? You’d never know. But what you did know now was why you couldn’t find Bucky or his corpse after his 'death'. To say it had broke you was nothing. It destroyed you. Dr Zola was lucky he had put himself into those fucking computers because you couldn’t have ripped him apart any more for it. But that didn’t make any difference. Bucky wasn’t there anymore.

If only you two hadn’t wondered off at that funfair.

You had told each other everything in the backroom behind the bar. His eyes were filled with tears, and yours were no different. You had sat in your chair, while he on the sofa. This was the first time you’ve been this close in over 70 years. The first time you saw Bucky as Bucky, not as the Winter Soldier.

“So now you own bars across the world and work with drugs, guns, money and intergalactic businesses? Stop shitting me.”

“And you feed goats in a 'Third-world' country after making yourself into a ghost story?” you had mocked by making speech marks in the air.

“Sounds better.”

“You just fought a massive space grape, you think I’m shitting you?” you had asked, tears disappearing and eyes filled with anger instead.

“Why didn’t you help? If you have so much power, why didn’t you help? When we got dusted? When we were fighting?”

“I got dusted too, Barnes! And it wasn’t as quick! I didn’t get dusted fully until three years after it! Three. Fucking. Years, Barnes! And you think that army was all that Thanos had? I lost hundreds of soldiers trying to stop those ships! I lost friends Barnes!” the tears we’re back in your eyes

“I lost friends too!” Bucky cried, pointing at you

“Oh, as if you had any friends apart from Steve!” you had slumped back into your chair, glaring at him.

Bucky's head dropped. He blamed you. He blamed himself. Himself more. He didn’t look for you hard enough. Not during the war. Not after he got out of cryo. He was afraid, and still so in love with you. He had prayed every time when the brainwashed him that he’d remember you. Your smile. Your eyes, your hair, your laugh. But you weren’t there.

“I had Sam.” He whimpered.

“Wilson?” you asked. He came here sometimes. Always left with a girl. He seemed lonely.

“Yeah. And Nat.”

“Oh.” You knew who she was. Not only did you try bribing the Red Room into handing over a couple of the best girls they had to you, but you also trained some. One of them was Romanoff. Plus, she had a past with The Winter Soldier. And you made sure you knew everything you could. That shut you up a bit.

“I missed you,” Bucky looked up at you, eyes puffy, red and swollen, cheeks wet with tears. Your heart broke.

“I missed you too.” You had walked over to him and knelt before him, grabbing his hands with your left one and wiping tears from his face with your right. You felt so bad at that moment. Memories and feelings you’ve pressed down for so long resurfacing. You felt horrible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” You whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, doll,” he smiled, more tears spilling down his cheeks. Oh, how you missed that smile. “We’re home.”

Let me know if you enjoyed it and what I can improve!!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes angst #angst #fluff #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #fanfic #mutant!reader

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saventhhaven · 5 years ago

Text

There’s Something About Y/N

Pairing: None

Tags: possession, possessed!reader, demons, protective!Dean, protective!Sam, little bit of comedy

Word Count: 2,262

A/N: This was a request made by alexwinchester23! Just a reminder to everyone, my requests are open! It might take me a hot minute to get it out for you, but please feel free to request something! The link to my inbox is on my page or in my bio! <3

(Gif not mine)

Tendrils of cold air reached out to you, cutting through the thick jacket you were wearing to protect yourself from the chill of night. Why demons couldn't choose to reside in buildings with a decent central heating system, you would never understand. You readjusted your grip on your blade, flexing your fingers around the familiar leather handle. By now, you had done this a few hundred times at least. Work a case, kill the monster, work a case, kill the monster. It was a somewhat repetitive life, but a gratifying one at that. For years now you had devoted your life to saving people from creatures they didn't know they even needed to worry about in the first place.

At this point, the life-saving came as easy as breathing. Or, the process that led up to the life-saving, at least. Dean, your best friend, lightly bumped your shoulder with his own, causing you to look up at him, eyebrows raised. He motioned for you to go down one hallway and Sam to go down another. Giving a small nod in return, you crept deeper into the warehouse, on your own now. If you were honest, you hated being on your own during a hunt. It was pretty ironic, actually. You had hunted on your own for a good five or six years before you had even heard of the Winchesters, and now you preferred not to work a case without them. It could be perceived as a sort of weakness, you supposed. That had always been one of the main reasons you had chosen to hunt alone for so long. Having others around meant more people to take care of. Although, you had to admit that having the Winchesters around didn't feel like that at all. They had intuition and reflexes as sharp as your own, making the three of you a damn near unstoppable team. A loud rustle of movement to your left startled you a bit more than it would typically have, and you scolded yourself. This was not the time to lose focus. You had a job to do, and you intended to do it.

"So you're the Winchesters' pet." you whirled on your heel at the unfamiliar voice, adrenaline instantly pumping through your veins. The demon was a woman or possessing a woman's body at least. "I was expecting more" she mused, appraising you as if you were a piece of furniture she was contemplating buying. "The other demons made you out to be a merciless hunter. How disappointing." You could feel your lip curl back slightly.

"Sorry to be rude," you sneered back, "but I don't have time for small talk right now." She gave a small laugh that sent chills running down your spine. "What a coincidence." She looked up at you, all traces of her half-smile replaced with malice as her eyes flitted to the inky blackness you had come to know so well. "Nor do I." With an effortless wave of her hand, an unseen force pushed you down to your knees, and you were frozen in place. You groaned in pain as you fought to get up again, blade clattering to the floor at your knees. The demon's eyes lit up with interest as she took a few steps closer to you. "What's this?" she asked, eyeing the anti-possession talisman hanging around your neck. Shit. In one swift movement, she yanked it off of you, giving a slight shudder as she did. "That was the only thing protecting you, wasn't it? I can feel it. You're really not as smart as I thought you were." Without your necklace, you felt naked. You were completely defenseless now.

"Sam!" you yelled into the empty space. "Dean!" The demon grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it painfully, so you were forced to look her in the eye. "Don't worry, Y/N," she said. "I'm one hell of an actor. Your boys won't even know you're gone." Her head whipped back unnaturally as black smoke began to pour from her mouth. You struggled futilely as it moved over to you choking you and making your eyes water. Then, there was nothing but darkness.

"Y/N!" Dean's voice reverberated throughout the warehouse as he rejoined his brother in the room where they had initially separated. The two of them didn't even have to exchange a look to know what their next course of action was. With their weapons drawn, they hastily moved in the direction Y/N less than five minutes ago.

"Y/N?" Sam echoed his brother as they approached the only room at the end of the hallway. They watched as Y/N heaved a limp form off of herself with a strained grunt.

"Got her," she panted, tucking her knife away as she stood.

"You okay?" Dean asked as he eyed her. She grinned back at the boys and nodded.

"Yeah. She just got the drop on me," Y/N replied, gesturing to the lifeless body on the ground. "Thought I was toast there for a second." She looked around at the dark room and clutched her arms around herself. "Now let's get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps." The boys exchanged a grin as she stomped out of the room in total Y/N fashion.

Several days later, Dean walked into the bunker's library, his regular beer in hand. Y/N sat at the long, wooden table, flipping through a book absent-mindedly.

"Hey," Dean greeted, scanning the room. "Where's Sam?" Y/N looked up at him.

"In his room, I think." Her eyes landed on his drink, and she smirked. "It's a little early to be drinking already, isn't it?" Dean let out a grunt as he seated himself across the table from her.

"Hey, it's five o' clock somewhere. Watcha readin'?" Y/N sighed, closing the book and leaning back in her chair.

"I honestly have no idea." Dean started to chuckle but then froze. His beer bottle was halfway up to his lips when he noticed it. Y/N was wearing one of her lower-cut tank tops. Had she been wearing something different, Dean wasn't sure he would have even noticed it at all. She didn't have her necklace on. Despite the boys' nagging, Y/N had never gotten the anti-possession tattoo Dean and his brother had. Instead, she made her own makeshift talisman to protect herself from demons. Dean set his drink back on the table calmly as his mouth went dry. She noticed his sudden change in demeanor and raised her eyebrows in question. "What?" Dean swallowed hard.

"Where's your necklace?" he questioned, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could manage. Y/N looked down at herself where her necklace should have been.

"Oh!" The surprise was audible in her tone, although Dean suspected it wasn't genuine. "I must've forgotten to put it back on after I got out of the shower this morning." Something Y/N once said to Dean replayed in his mind. I never take this necklace off. Not for anything. If I don’t have it on, something’s wrong "You're not Y/N," he pointed out. The corners of her lips sunk down as she looked at him in confusion.

"What? Dean-" The oldest Winchester stood up quickly, causing his chair to topple backward with force.

"What did you do to her?" he glowered, his voice low and dangerous. Her eyes went wide, panicked, as she stood from her chair.

"Dean, take a breath." She raised her hands defensively and took a few steps away from the table. Dean hesitated for a split second. He was almost positive this wasn't really Y/N, but whatever it was it was one hell of an actor. But still, he knew that at this point the real Y/N probably would have called him an idiot and doused herself with holy water. Dean practically launched himself at her, pinning her against one of the columns.

"Where. Is. Y/N?" Her eyes flitted back and forth as she shook her head. "I ain't askin' again."

"Dean?" Sam quickly approached his brother, obviously confused. "What the hell?"

"Sam, thank God. Tell your brother he's being crazy!" Dean took two fistfuls of her shirt, slamming her back into the column again.

"Shut up!" he ordered. "I think she's possessed," Dean explained to his younger brother.

"Dean, please!" Y/N, or whatever the hell it was, begged. "I'm the only thing in here!" Dean sneered into her face, his lip curling back into a threatening snarl.

"Oh, there's something in there, but it sure as hell ain't our Y/N." Sam took a few steps toward the two of them.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Her necklace," Dean responded. That was all the answer Sam needed. His eyes narrowed.

"What are you?" he asked. "A demon?" She sighed, seeming to know she was beaten, and her eyes flashed black.

"Not bad," she smirked. "First try, too. Although, I will say I'm a little disappointed that I didn't get to be Y/N for longer. She was such a fun character to play." Dean's knuckles went white as he clenched his fists even tighter, his face darkening.

"She's not just some 'character' for you to toy around with," Sam snapped.

"Yeah, now get the hell out of her!" Dean gave her another shake as the demon gave a malice-filled smile, which was unsettling for the boys to see on Y/N's face.

"Not a chance, boys." The demon slammed her forehead into Dean's, making him clutch his head in pain as he involuntarily released her.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed. He lunged for the demon, but she was faster. With nothing holding her back anymore, she pushed her hands down, straining against some unseen force, and the boys were forced to their knees. The demon chuckled mercilessly, a sound immensely unlike Y/N's real laugh.

"You know what would've been really fun, though? To see the look in both of your eyes if you still thought I was Y/N when I killed you." Dean made a sort of growling noise deep in the back of his throat.

"You bi-" Before he could get the rest of the word out, the demon made a tight fist, cutting off both boys' air supply. She watched gleefully as they suffered, Dean clawing at his throat, trying to breathe.

"Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus." The demon's head snapped over to Sam, who was holding his phone, an audio recording of him reciting an exorcism on speaker. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii." She gritted her teeth, willing herself to stay attached to Y/N's body. "Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica." The demon began to tremble, losing her hold on the boys, who toppled over weakly, gasping at the air like fish out of water. "Ergo draco maledicte. Eccleisiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus." Shaking violently, the demon held out her hand, and Sam's phone went flying over to her. Without hesitation, she crushed the small device in her fist, rendering the rest of the room quiet. As she caught her breath, she didn't notice Dean get up behind her. He grabbed her shoulder roughly, causing her to whirl around. "Sorry, Y/N," Dean apologized. Before the demon could react, he delivered a brutal right hook to her cheek, and she landed on her hands and knees. "Audi nos, bitch." Y/N jerked back onto her knees. Her head snapped back as if her neck had been broken, and a bloodcurdling scream erupted from her mouth, black smoke pouring out. And when it was over, she crumpled to her side, lying horrifyingly still.

You pulled into the bunker's garage, honking the horn to let the boys know you were home. After you had woken up, they had strong-armed you into getting a more permanent form of protection from possession. Getting the tattoo wasn't something you were necessarily thrilled about, but it needed to be done. Especially now that the boys were benching you until you had been inked. Today had been a kitsune hunt that you were dying to work. Cases that involved a monster that you rarely got to deal with were your favorites. It kept things interesting. Even though there was no chance of you getting possessed this time around, Sam and Dean still refused to let you go with them. You understood that they were just being protective, but it was still annoying as hell. So, when you got Sam's text that they were on their way home, you had grabbed your credit card and headed out to the tattoo place the boys recommended. They both came up the garage's stairs right as you got out of the car, shooting them a triumphant grin.

"Hey, there she is!" Sam greeted, giving you a warm smile. "How'd it go?" You tossed him your keys and shrugged out of your jacket.

"Took it like a champ," you answered. Dean chuckled as he crossed his arms comfortably across his chest.

"Well, let's see it." You undid the top button of your shirt, pulling the left side away to show off your tattoo. Sam stepped closer, scrutinizing the design. After a few moments, he gave a satisfied nod.

"Good," he appraised. "Really good." You did a little bow.

"There you have it, boys. I am now 100% possession-proof!" Dean slung an arm around your shoulder and gave you a peck on the side of the head.

"Atta girl. Now we just need to have Cas etch Enochian into your ribs, and you'll be good to go." You looked up at him in alarm.

"Wait, what?"

Thanks so much for reading, guys! Like I said, this was a request, and my inbox is always open if you have some idea that you’d like me to take a swing at!

As always, links to my inbox, masterlist, and taglist are in my bio or on my page!

#supernatural #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #one shot #one shot fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #original female character #female reader #reader #demon #possession #possessed!reader #protective!Sam #protective!Dean #bad attempt at comedy #:)

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berrodarmstrong · 5 years ago

Text

Brother to Brother.

It started with a letter.

Osric Melkire walked into the Barber looking not a day older and not a bit different than last they'd met. It was a strange sight... but then, he'd been out of touch for a long while. Anyroad, the midlander took a look about, spotted the beds, and made his way over.

Osric Melkire: "Why in all the seven ruttin' hells," he said with a grin, "are you always bedridden when I could do with some counsel, eh?"

Berrod Armstrong sat cross-legged on the bed -- miserable under boredom. He shifted and sat upright when he spotted Osric and eagerly beckoned even though the other man had been well on his way. The sight of him pulled a wide smile -- though like all his smiles, it was all too brief. "Maybe the Destroyer deemed it tradition."

Osric Melkire chuckled. "Seems t'me that if our places were reversed, you'd be obligated to threaten me with the Arms o' Meed for gettin' m'self in harm's way so often."

Osric Melkire sat down and faced his... friend? Brother? The damned highlander always had a way of knocking him off-kilter.

Berrod Armstrong: "Harm's way -is- our way, I've come to learn. Either way, I feel -fine-, the people here are jus' fussy an' don't want me leavin' till Firesday. Urgh." He took a deep breath as his expression settled from petulant youth to solemn regard, "Now what can I do for you?"

Osric Melkire: "Well, for one thing, y'can quit rushin' this conversation along. My need ain't -that- urgent." He reached up and pulled his turban off only to slip it into the sash that served him as a belt. "How've you 'n' the others been?"

Berrod Armstrong laughed at that and lifted both his hands almost defensively. "Fine fine. Everyone...I'd say...'the same'. You know how it goes. It's quiet, then things get wild, then it's quiet again. As for me, well..." He gestured to his surroundings, "Tried to run the Levinfist and some Resistance extremists decided t'make a mess of it all. Attacked it with numbers. Unlucky for them, strikin' a tournament full o'fighters. Took 'em down. Well...the crowd an' fighters did. I was the first one to go down."

Berrod Armstrong seemed just a -tad- bitter about that last part.

Osric Melkire 's mouth opened a tad, in a silent 'ah' of dawning comprehension. "That explains the mandatory rest 'n' relaxation. Tell you what, I'll distract the chirurgeons 'n' you can limp your way out the arches unseen."

Osric Melkire winked.

Berrod Armstrong snorted. "An' have Sarij roarin' me down? Naw, I'll take the bed. Jus' a couple more days, I'll endure it. Meditate. Paperwork. Pray. Keep buggin' them for news on others who'd come in with me. Stuff like that."

Osric Melkire nodded. "Could do with some o' your patience. Kana's been downright strict with m'own arse. 'To Master Beake's sessions and straight back! No grandstanding, no heroics!' Swear on the Twelve, Berrod, sometimes I miss the insanity."

Berrod Armstrong: "You've got pickneys, dontcha? Insanity ain't gone, jus' a different flavour." Another slight and fleeting smile, "Beautiful flavour. I figure it's gonna take a while to adjust, anyroad. Jus' don't adjust too much, yeah?" Osric Melkire smirked. "Nah, course not. You either, y'hear?" He cleared his throat. "Anyroad... have a big ask. How well d'you remember Takara?"

Berrod Armstrong opened his mouth slightly, then closed it with a slight shrug. "A face, a voice, lil' bit here an' there. What's up?"

Osric Melkire: "An opportunity t'make some coin. Followed up on a postin', y'know. The usual shite, not leves but more common fare. Turned up for the interview and it's gods-damned Fier. Used t'follow Sunthistle around. That one. Tryin' t'decide whether the surplus gil is worth it. Safety's a concern."

Berrod Armstrong took a deep breath and looked up for a moment. He seemed genuine in his consideration. "Don't work with who you don't trust," He offered eventually. "Usually I'm the one eyein' you for a sign on these things. Is there anythin' else, or is it just the coin that's temptin'?"

Osric Melkire breathed in through his nose and let it out from between his lips. "Aye, there's somethin' else. There's lots. Startin' with things like, 'aye, I'd love t'come back 'n' work for the Agency or whatever it's called now, but the danger ain't worth the benefits,' or 'I'd like t'drop in for a spar or some meditation sometime, but I'm worried that you're buried under a dozen students,' and how about, 'I'm torn between doin' what I crave 'n' bein' the husband and father to the family I love.' So how's that for a crock 'n' a lark, eh? I'm lost as t'how t'live my life, 'n' here I am moanin' and gripin' t'you."

Berrod Armstrong sort of stiffened with shock; his lips went thin -- an achievement, really -- and his eyes opened wide. Once Osric had finished speaking the mental scramble to process it all in the face of his perilously short memory was visible on his face. "Er -- well, the Advent is a whole new company, with lotsa new folks. Lotta what was wrong before ain't even around now -- and you're welcome back, bein' honest. You were one of our best. Spar...? Yes. Student...? I ain't sure, but that ain't because of anythin' you did. I uh. I don't have any students right now. But I think that can be a maybe leanin' to yes. That last one...oof. That last one's tough. I'm in a family that lets me do what I crave...but if there's a choice? Family first. Always. Jus' not to the point you lose who you are. You won't be any good to 'em like that."

Osric Melkire stared down at the boards that made up Berrod's cot. "Might... might swing 'round, now 'n' again, if that's fine... work or no work...." He ran a hand up through his hair and glanced at Armstrong. "Think I'd rather have the meditation 'n' the chats, by the by. Um... Master Beake's been good about, y'know, pointin' out how enormous m'ego had gotten."

Osric Melkire: "...sparrin's good, but not if they're just a pissin' contest for me."

Berrod Armstrong grimaced, "Yeah he has that way. Though for me, it was seein' how talented my damn students were with stuff I'd been strugglin' with for decades." He stuck his neck out and tilted his head down a bit. "I hope you know after all we've been through that you're stronger than me. I jus' got a head start, is all. Still. Meditation an' chats...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot. An' you've always been welcome to swing by, so nothin's changed there."

Osric Melkire made a face. "That's buffalo shite if I've ever smelt it, Berrod. Had a head start, aye, but you were always the one t'grab us by the scruff of our necks when we were gettin' reckless. That's it's own strength."

Berrod Armstrong: "Maybe so, but you're forgettin' that -you- taught me a lot too, 'bout the other side. Cleared that ignorance right outta my head. I'll always be grateful for that. Ended up studyin' it all an' now I can teach it in depth."

Osric Melkire beamed. "Well, that's good t'hear. Means I don't have t'feel like a swivin' arse if I poke fun at your bein' confined to this wooden contraption."

Osric Melkire leaned back and kicked the underside of the cot with one foot.

Berrod Armstrong jumped slightly. "S'not so bad. I thought I got spoiled by cushy stuff, but this thing's actually pretty comfortable. There's very little you should feel like an arse -about-."

Osric Melkire: "Not keepin' in touch is definitely one, but that's a work in progress, that is." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. I mean it, Berrod. About... everythin'." Especially the part he hadn't meant to blurt out, and wasn't going to revisit just yet. "Is there anythin' I can do for you 'n' the others?"

Berrod Armstrong -grinned-. It was a friendly sentiment, but overall rather stupid looking. "Not keepin' touch ain't a crime. Makes the moments we catch up all the better! I'll always welcome you back like you were gone yesterday, that's what brothers do!" The grin boiled down to something a bit more shifty, "...I ain't usually in the market for askin' favours -- me an' the others are fine, but if you can do me a lil' somethin' I'd be much obliged."

Osric Melkire grinned back, but that expression faded as the midlander sobered. "Tell me."

Berrod Armstrong clawed his fingers as a matter of desperation. "Butter rolls. If you can find butter rolls anywhere, I'd owe you forever. Even ones that are a lil' stale, I don't mind. They ain't got anythin' like that here..."

Osric Melkire stared... and burst out laughing. His mirth bent him over, and he held onto one side as if his guts were about to burst forth.

Berrod Armstrong: "Laugh it up all you want! The gagana stew ain't bad at all but it's -missin' the rolls-..."

Osric Melkire: "Butter... butter...." It was hard to catch his breath, but he managed somehow. "...right, right, butter rolls. I'm, uh, headin' back to the Beds later tonight. Might be able t'send a care package t'you through Oriens."

Berrod Armstrong nodded rapidly, then -grimaced-. "...the soldiers should be gettin' that instead o'me, really but I'll have the damn indulgence."

Osric Melkire rolled his eyes as he reached for his turbans. "I'll send enough for the whole soddin' class, professor."

Berrod Armstrong: "A crater full o'hyur an' Roegadyn an’ Miqo’te soldiers...? Good luck!" He laughed at that and shook his head, "All share as much as I can, with my thanks."

Osric Melkire nodded as he slipped his turban back over his head and stood up. "I'll be seein' more o' you, then... brother."

Berrod Armstrong took the salutation with casual delight, "May He guide your path, Brother. Until next time. Travel safe."

Osric Melkire: "Oschon'll see to that. May Rhalgr smite your foes."

Osric Melkire waved farewell.

#FFXIV #Roleplay #RP #Balmung #Crystal #Monk RP #Osric Melkire #Berrod Armstrong #Rhalgr's Reach #The Barber

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nialledfromfics · 7 years ago

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chapter eight part one

Spending her nights in Niall’s bed became the norm for them over the course of the following two weeks, so much so that Chloe couldn’t even remember what her own bed felt like. But there were actual reasons for why they both chose to stay at Niall’s; one was Finny, and two…they still hadn’t told anyone. Not a single one of their friends knew what was going on or what was happening between them, and with Chloe and Liz living together, she was not about to take the chance of her catching them and Chloe having to explain how it all weirdly went down. They both avoided Hump Day drinks like the plague and also Jack’s football get together that following Sunday, each of them making excuses as to why they couldn’t show up.

But it really was better that way, at least for the time being. And if Chloe was being honest, it had been a long time since she had really dated anyone, and unbeknownst to Niall, there was a small part of her that feared if anyone were to find out, it would somehow spoil everything she had with him and she so desperately didn’t want that to happen. She wasn’t ready for it to be spoiled. She wasn’t ready to let any of them know, she wasn’t ready to share him.

Niall had no opinion either way, he was just happy to be with Chloe. If she needed time before telling their friends, and the world, about them, then that was totally fine with him. He got to enjoy her, be with her and that was all the really mattered, everything else was just a bonus. She assured him that they would let everyone know soon, she just wasn’t quite ready at that point and through lots of kisses and warm cuddles, and mind blowing sex, Niall made sure she knew that he was completely on board with whatever decision she was comfortable with.

Chloe still went to work as usual, trying to remain as cool and collected as she could possibly be in her situation, when all she really wanted to do was run around the salon screaming about how freaking happy she was and spill every single tantalizing detail to Liz. She was still her best friend after all. Following her long days at work, she’d head right over to Niall’s place, spending the rest of her evenings with him and Fionn. They would all eat dinner together, watch movies, play games and it was honestly the most fun Chloe had ever had, something she wasn’t expecting at all.

But after putting Finny to bed, that was when it became Niall and Chloe time and that was what she really looked forward to the most. Just being in his arms as they cuddled on the couch, her head laying on his chest as he played with her hair. His body hovering over hers, dripping in sweat as he pushed himself inside her, urging her sweet moans from her throat. Laughing at some dumb story he told her as they laid naked in his bed, her toes rubbing over the tops of his feet. Kissing him, touching him, fucking him, just relishing in his warmth and his body and his mind and everything that she had grown to treasure and crave from him and everything she had realized she been missing out on for so long.

It was all so real and easy and beyond perfect and it was so much more than Chloe, or Niall, had ever imagined it would be.

“Night, bud!”

Chloe stepped back into the hallway as Niall went to shut Finny’s bedroom door. “Chloe!” His small voice rang out from the darkened room, Chloe shooting her wide eyes to Niall before popping her head into the room just past the door frame.

She could barely see the glow of his little face from his night light. “What’s up, Fionn?”

“Good night.”

Breathing out a smile, she shook her head as she heard Niall chuckle from behind her. “Good night, Finny,” she replied, blowing him a tiny kiss, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a soft ‘ ‘kay’, Finny turned over in his bed and closed his eyes as Chloe slipped back out of the doorway, Niall gently easing it closed. “He’s a complete nutter,” Niall whispered, quirking his brow at Chloe.

“He’s cute,” she quipped, pushing a hand to the front of his stomach, “just like his father.” Niall huffed out a laugh as they both started to walk down the hall and into the living room, Niall making his way over to the couch and collapsing down onto the thick cushions. “You want a beer?” Chloe casually asked him as she passed by and shuffled into the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure,” Niall called out over his shoulder. Spinning around right as she stepped into the kitchen, Chole peered over at Niall. All she could see was the side of his face; the dark shadow of his stubble and his soft mess of brown hair as he focused on the TV, but it was more than enough to cause a flurry of intricate waves in her tummy. She loved looking at him, especially when he had no idea that she was doing it. As he was happily playing with Fionn; both boys sprawled out on the floor with carbon-copy smiles and giggles spilling out of them, or as he was tucking Finny in bed, Niall snuggled up next to him as he read the little boy his favorite nighttime story. When he was cuddling with her on the couch, Niall engrossed in a movie as the faint blue-glow of the television screen danced along his nose and tiny dark eyelashes, or when they were laying in bed and he had just drifted off to sleep after being with her; Chloe nestled on her side and just letting her tired stare dreamily soak up every single impeccable detail of him. He was so handsome to her, rugged in ways but so soft in others, just barely teetering on annoyingly perfect and what Chloe didn’t know is that all the times that she wasn’t finding herself staring intently at Niall, he was finding himself staring even more deeply at her.

It had only been a few days since she had told Niall that she was ready to be with him, ready for whatever laid ahead for them but Chloe swore that every time she looked at him, it felt as if time stood still. And she knew he felt exactly the same.

Grabbing the beverages from the fridge, Chloe made her way back out to the living room to join Niall, quietly stopping right in front of him as she held out an opened beer. He tipped his head back to curiously peek up at her. “Thanks, love,” he said as he took the bottle from her hand and rested it on his thigh, his soft blue eyes lazily shifting down her body. She really had no clue how absolutely stunning she was. Niall was aware that Chloe knew she was a beautiful girl, but not in the way that Niall knew. Not in the way that he saw her. Even in her baggy t-shirt and lounge shorts, with her black hair tied up in a messy knot and the days’ makeup cleaned off her face, that was when Niall knew. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shot his eyes back up to hers and lifted the beer to his lips, taking a decent swig.

Chloe let out a small huff as Niall glanced back over at the TV, her teeth faintly chewing at the inside of her lip and her fingertips pressing deep into the cold glass of her beer bottle. Tilting her head to the side, Niall’s eyes quickly flashed from the TV screen back up to Chloe, his mind slightly perplexed as to why she was still standing there staring down at him like that. “You look gorgeous, ya know that?”

She rolled her eyes, a heat stinging across her cheeks as she fought off a smile and buried the side of her face down into her shoulder. The response was so cute, Niall couldn’t help but snort out a chuckle. “C’mere, love.”

He motioned her over to him with a pat on his thigh, Chloe lightly biting down on her lip as she bent over to set her beer on the coffee table before climbing right onto his lap. Her legs straddled his spread thighs and she slipped her arms around his broad shoulders as he brought his beer back up to his lips and tipped his chin up to take a sip. “Ya know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout today,” he mentioned after swallowing down the bitter liquid, “that we should go on a proper date. Just me and you.”

“Oh, really?” Chloe said, his statement causing a rush in her chest. Her fingers lightly played in the short ends of his hair as her head eased to the side, Niall watching a few strands of her dark hair fall loose from her bun and slide down across her cheek.

Her stare locked heavy with his and, once more, he found himself lost in her eyes. “Yup,” he concluded, quirking his brows, “gonna take ya out this weekend.”

“What about Fionn?”

“He’s gonna be with Rachel…”

“So, it’s a date then?” She tucked her lips into her mouth and Niall nodded his head with a low hum in agreement.

Chloe felt the heat of Niall’s big palm slide across the curve of her lower back just then, the feeling causing a ruffle of warmth to invade her body. Carding her fingers through the side of his hair above the shell of his ear, her eyes traced her movements as Chloe started to lightly chew at the inside corner of her mouth again. Niall wrinkled his brow as he watched her, knowing that there was definitely something on her mind.

“Ni, can I ask you something?” Ah, there it was.

Licking across his lips, he gave her a faint nod. “Sure, babe, anythin’...”

“I don’t know, I’ve been kinda thinking about it and I was just curious, but,” she paused, needing to take a second before she continued, “how come you didn’t try and fuck me that night?”

With his blue eyes slowly drifting over her soft features, Niall breathed out a low scoff, his face twisting up a little as he had no idea what she was referring to. “What? What night?”

Chloe scraped her teeth across her bottom lip as her fingertips came to a standstill. “That night,” she clarified, “at the cabin?”

“You mean, when ya were fuckin’ piss drunk?” he asked her, his blue eyes having gone wide at her insinuation.

Chloe dropped her stare to his chest and Niall sucked back a breath, his upper body leaning forward slightly as he set his beer down on the table. Reaching up, he gently brushed the loose hairs off her cheek and tucked them behind her ear, his fingers siding down the slope of her jaw before he placed both his hands on her hips. “Baby, are ya really askin’ me why I didn’t fuck ya when you were practically passed out on the bed?”

Her shoulders raised slightly in a shrug as her hands fell to lightly clasp around the sides of his neck. “Well, I mean, it’s just–…we were being so flirty that whole day and, I don’t know, I just thought…”

Niall’s head cocked back slightly as he peered at her through his hooded eyes. “I wouldn’t’ve done that to ya,” he mumbled. “Even if I wanted to sleep with you–which...I did–I wouldn’t’ve done that when you were drunk like that.”

Chloe felt the faint knead of his thumbs against her hip bones. “What if I hadn’t been drunk? Just hypothetically speaking, would you have...I don’t know, made a move on me that night?”

Her eyes danced across his, watching the lights of the TV screen flick over the glassy blue and a turned down smirk pulled across Niall’s mouth. “I don’t know, love,” he admitted, raising his brows a bit as he shook his head, “I mean, I wanted to, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t have wanted to make ya feel uncomfortable or anythin’. Plus, I didn’t really know how you felt about me and...well, I fuckin’ wouldn’t have known how to approach ya anyway.” Niall chuckled under his breath. “At least not in a way that didn't make me look like a proper douchebag just tryin’ to get in your pants.”

Chloe’s head toppled back in a laugh, Niall not being able to help himself but smile as his stare settled on the gorgeous slope of her neck before she brought her eyes back down to this. “Sometimes you’re way too much of a gentleman, Ni,” she giggled, “sometimes...girls just want to be fucked.”

He breathed out a timid smile. “Well, would you have slept with me that night? If ya weren’t drunk?”

“Um, I would’ve fucked you even though I was drunk,” Chloe spit out, zero hesitation in her tone as she knitted her brows at him, “If you would’ve let me.”

Letting out a snort, Niall shook his head as he tipped his face down. Chloe could see the flush start to invade his cheeks, his pale skin blotching pink as he fought the big smile that was tugging at his lips. Using the pressure of her thumbs under his jaw, she slowly eased his chin back up, her stare locking solid with his. Niall licked across his lips as Chloe leaned in, her bum rolling slightly against Niall’s lap. “Ni,” she softly began, her parted mouth ghosting over his as she spoke between the softest of kisses, “you know I would’ve fucked you anytime you wanted me to. I will fuck you anytime you want me to…”

Niall’s eyes rolled back slighty as a groan rumbled up from his chest. Chloe smiled. “Is that so?” he teasingly asked her, trying to regain himself as his bearish grip tightened around her hips. Tucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Chloe nodded her head in quiet response. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“For, um,” Niall swallowed hard as he felt her press down into him, “future reference.”

She giggled as she brushed the tip of her nose to his. “Well...how about right now?”

“What?”

Chloe’s dark eyes flicked over Niall’s, watching the black seep into the light blue as her hips subtly started to move against him. “I wanna fuck you right now,” she told him in a low whisper against his mouth.

“Here?” Niall barely choked out, his body stiffening under the slow glide of Chloe’s hips as his fingers dug deep into her sides. Chloe smiled at him, entertained by his candid naivety and she eased her tongue out of her mouth to run it across his lips. “But...Finny…” Niall managed to say before she circled her center down against him.

Niall swallowed hard, not wanting her to stop–good God–not ever wanting her to stop as he began to feel himself harshly reacting to every sensation she was giving him. “Finny is asleep,” Chloe softly breathed out, nipping kisses across Niall’s lips and jaw, “and all I wanna do is take care of his daddy.”

Her hands tangled up into the back of his hair, her hips moving in such slow deep grinds against him, Niall was sure he would climax in his pants at any second if she kept it up. “His big, handsome, sexy daddy…”

“Oh, fuckin’ Christ,” Niall moaned out, pinching his eyes closed as his large hands dragged across the faint curves of Chloe’s body. His chest was heaving and Chloe could feel the sweltering heat from his touch as he slipped his hands up under her shirt, roughly gripping onto her smooth skin.

She giggled as she brought her mouth back to his, her center pushing down onto him to feel just how swollen and thick he had grown for her in his pants. It was a reaction that she loved to entice from him any chance she got, physically feeling how much he wanted her, how much she turned him on. Inching back to glance at him, Niall eased his eyes open and saw the satisfied smirk that was sitting on her puffy lips as she just barely rubbed herself against him one last time.

Niall knew he was done for. “So, big boy, I take that as a yes?”

Chloe was certain she would have endless nerves for their date, an actual real date, but much to her surprise as the day drew closer, they were practically non-existent. She had spent so much time with Niall by that point, that it almost felt like any other day to her. Almost. She was to finish getting ready at Niall’s place as he dropped Fionn off at Rachel’s, and as she slipped on her mid-thigh length, off the shoulder dress, all Chloe could think about was getting her hands on him. It wasn’t that every other second of her time spent with Niall wasn’t special, it was, probably more than Chloe had anticipated a relationship to be, but those reckless and raw intimate moments with him, those moments where everything else in the world shut down and the only thing that mattered was seeing each other, feeling each other, pleasing each other, those were the moments that she yearned for. It was as if the memories of his greedy touch was burned into her flesh, his teasing kisses carved into her lips and the feel of his warm sweaty body fused onto hers, it was a hunger she couldn’t appease, a hunger she couldn’t satisfy; her taste for him was insatiable.

She had never wanted a man more in her entire life than she wanted Niall Horan. And that was saying something.

They went to a late dinner and a movie, Chloe wanting to stop by a local dive bar and get a few drinks afterwards. A few turned into a few too many, both her and Niall finding themselves way past the tipsy mark where everything had become a bit hazy and obnoxiously giggly. With neither of them being able to drive in their state, they decided to take a nice walk through the city in hopes that the slight chill in the early morning air would sober them up a bit.

His arm was heavily slung over her shoulder, his fingers entangled with hers as Chloe snuggled her body up against his side, her attempt at stealing some of his warmth. Leaning in, Niall pecked a kiss just at her hairline. “I had fun tonight,” he mumbled against Chloe’s skin, mindlessly running a fingertip back and forth along the edge of one of her nails, “glad we did this. We needed to finally go on a real date.”

Chloe giggled and leaned her head back on his shoulder, turning her face towards his. “We did, and it was fun,” she replied, “I like going out with you.”

“I like goin’ out with you too,” Niall chuckled.

Chloe sighed lightly. “But you know what I could go for right now?”

Niall squeezed his fingers around hers as they kept their slow pace and he glanced at her with inquisitive eyes, never really sure what was going to come out of that mouth of hers. “What’s that, love?”

“Your perfect dick all up inside me.”

It was then that Niall’s feet halted to a stop, Chloe unknowingly letting her wobbly steps lead the way as she continued walking, only realizing Niall had stopped when his body peeled away from hers and his grip clumsily tugged her backwards. She spun around with a smile, her shoulders jittering in a tiny laugh as she locked her amourous eyes on his and innocently raised her brows. “What?”

Yanking her towards him, her body collided with his as he let go of her fingers and cupped his big hands around the sides of her face. Chloe’s deeply intoxicated stare peered up at him, her dimples poking into her cheeks from her wide smile as Niall’s eyes swarmed across her face. Her hands had slotted themselves inside his jacket and were sliding over the dips in his waist, Chloe anxiously biting at her bottom lip as she fought off her drunken giggles and watched the dark invade Niall’s gorgeous baby blues.

They stood there for what felt like a full minute before Niall pulled in a stuttering breath and swallowed hard. “Chlo, ya can’t be just sayin’ shit like that to me out of the blue...Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispered, his body pressing to the front of hers as she gently jerked him closer, “I’m drunk and horny and if ya don’t fuckin’ knock it off, I’m gonna have to fuck ya right here on the street in front of everyone.”

“Do it,” she challenged him, not a moment spared in her response. Chloe wasn’t kidding. She knew it and Niall knew it. But no way in hell was he going to actually fuck her on the side of the busy street, he wasn’t an animal. Even if it did cross his mind for a split second.

Niall shook his head in a chuckle and pushed his lips to hers. “You’re seriously gonna be the death of me, woman.”

His tongue slid deliciously into her mouth, Chloe savoring in the taste of him as she faintly whimpered into his kiss. Swinging herself around in a giggle as she pulled away, Chloe pressed her back to his front and grabbed at Niall’s arms, wrapping them around her middle as both of them began walking again. Niall leaned his face down into her neck, peppering her dewy skin with a row of tiny kisses that caused her eyes to softly flutter. “Well, Niall James, how ‘bout we go back to your place then,” she eventually spoke up, neither of them aware of what direction they were even headed in.

Niall popped his head up and quickly glanced around, his eyes squinting as he read a couple of the street signs. “Darlin’, looks like your place is closer…”

With her feet coming to a stop on the pavement, Chloe shot her stare up to look around at where they were, her cloudy alcohol-laced mind taking a bit longer than a moment to realize that he was right: they were very much closer to her apartment than his. Turning around to face him, she propped her forearms up on his shoulders and tipped her head to the side as she looked at him. All he was doing was just staring down at her with his heavy lidded eyes and his mouth turned down into that cocky smirk of his and it was making her belly fill with what felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies. God, he was fucking gorgeous, and holy shit, did she want him. “My place it is,” she told him, her voice confident but no louder than a whisper, “but we gotta be quiet. I don’t wanna wake Liz.”

They are barely able to make it inside her place. Feet stumbling and loud intoxicated giggles filling the space; Niall knocked into a small bookshelf by accident as Chloe tore off her shoes and sent them flying across the living room floor. His hands were instantly groping at her waist, pinning her to the wall in the hallway as his lips smashed to hers. Their wavering bodies were on fire; eager fumbling fingers and hot slippery tongues, broken whines pushed up from Chloe’s throat as Niall pressed his body against hers, urging her to feel just how turned on he was. The rabid heat was pulsing all the way to the pores of her skin, her hands working to peel his jacket off his shoulders before she dropped it to the floor and tangled her fingers in his dark hair, kissing him harder.

Niall was manic, struggling to keep his lustful groans contained as Chloe rolled her lower half towards him, rubbing herself against his hardened length that was straining in the front of his pants. His large palms dragged up over her breasts, the thin silky material of her dress making it easy to feel every achingly beautiful part of her as he played and Chloe finally forced her mouth away from his. She gasped with needed air, her chest heaving under his voracious touch as she strained to keep silent, Niall’s greedy unrelenting mouth having attached to her neck.

“My bed,” she choked out in a breathy whisper, Niall lifting his head as she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him towards her room.

Chloe shut her door as Niall stepped past and before he could even attempt to grab her and bring his mouth to hers once more, Chloe was throwing herself face down onto her bed in a loud “humphf”. Niall tossed his fist up to his mouth to hold in his laugh as he peered down at her, watching her sigh and whimper as her wasted body spread out over her duvet. “I missed my bed,” she muttered, half of her face smooshed into the mattress as her dark wavy hair fanned out over her.

Climbing onto the bed and situating himself over top of her, Niall leaned on his elbows on either side of her chest, his hand coming over to slide her hair off the side of her face. He peered down at her, a smile spreading on his lips as she laid there with her eyes closed and tiny hums vibrating from her body. “Hey, love,” Niall whispered, leaning down to rest his mouth by her ear as he gave her the gentlest of kisses.

Chloe hummed out again in response, her brows slightly raising. Niall brushed the tip of his nose along her jaw. “Still want me to fuck ya?”

Dropping his hand to rest at her exposed thigh, he kneaded at her soft skin and Chloe slowly inched her legs apart at the feeling. “Yeah,” she mumbled, the word barely coherent as Niall felt her breathing start to subdue.

It was no more than another few seconds before Niall knew she had passed out, and he hung his head down in a low chuckle before he carefully rolled his body off hers and got up to get himself undressed.

Niall made sure to get Chloe out of her clothes and into her bed properly, chuckling in amusement when she snuggled up to her pillow just as he was nestling down under her covers next to her. He spent a good portion of the next hour just staring at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest that coincided with the soft puffs of breath that left her parted mouth and the tiny movements of her eyelids as she fell deeper into her sleep. He had never seen someone as stunning as her, never knew someone so funny, witty and brilliant and unpredictable, so strong yet so vulnerable. Chloe was absolutely perfect to him, everything about her, and he was counting his lucky stars that he was finally given a chance. That she was finally seeing him in the way that he had seen her for years.

Niall awoke to the feel of Chloe’s body shifting over his as he laid on his back, her bare legs spreading to straddle his hips. He blinked his eyes open as he felt her lean down, her small hands cupping around his stubbled jaw as she started to press kisses to his lips. “I passed out, didn’t I?” she mumbled, a sweetness in her tone that made Niall’s hands creep over her bent knees and run up the length of her body. He was quickly made aware that she had shed her undergarments and was completely naked on top of him.

His eyes peeled open just as Chloe inched her mouth away from his, the tip of her tongue barely sliding over her lips as she reached up to tuck some unruly hair behind her ear. Niall gave her a gentle smile, on that caused the tiniest hint of a dimple to crease under his left eye and she felt the warmth of his big hands splay at her waist as she bent down to kiss him one more time. “Mornin’, my love,” he finally said back to her, his voice laced with a heavy grogginess and the wicked sound made a heat pool fast between Chloe’s legs.

She whined out, rocking her hips forward to rub herself over him. Chloe could already feel him growing thick for her in his boxers, Niall hissing in low breaths as he throbbed against her and he dragged his hands up her curves to cradle around her head. “I really wanted to fuck you last night,” she said to him, darting her dark eyes over his, “I’m sorry, Ni.”

He shook his head and gave her a soft chuckle. “It’s fine, no need to be sorry, babe.”

Pushing her lips to his again, she kissed him even deeper, sucking at his tongue before Niall felt the slow glide of Chloe’s hand along the front of his body. Skimming over his warmed skin, her slender fingers shoved right down into the top hem of his boxers and wasted no time groping at him. A low groan cracked out from his throat as he felt the pads of her fingers wrap around his swollen length, his hips involuntarily rolling up towards her teasing touch. Before Niall could even shudder out a breath, she had him pulled all the way out of his boxers and fully inside her, her mouth swallowing the gravelly moans escaping from him.

He gripped at her waist, his thick fingers sinking into her flesh as she slipped her lips away and sat up on him. Chloe’s hands rested right at his heaving chest as she rode him; grinding down and rocking her hips against him as tiny soft whimpers pushed out of her bared throat. His stare locked in on her, Niall not being able to help but soak up the entire glorious sight of her on top of him. He watched as her perky breasts bounced with her movements before his eyes slid down to watch as his cock disappeared inside her, Chloe circling her hips and enticing him to bury even deeper. Niall watched as she fucked him, her body trembling and beading up with sweat, her skin melting between his fingertips as his grip became tighter and he glanced up, wanting to see the twist of pleasure in her face as her eyes pinched together. It was then that her full lips gently parted in a low needy moan with her head rolling back to her shoulders and Niall was a split second away from leaning up and pressing his greedy mouth to her exposed breasts when Chloe’s bedroom door swung open.

“Chloe, hey, I wanted–”

There was a sharp gasp, Chloe’s hands quickly scrambling behind her to pull the covers up over her naked body. “Liz, oh my God!” she burst out, staring over her shoulder with wide eyes at her best friend who was still standing clueless in her doorway. Niall fell frozen, his fingers digging into the sticky flesh of Chloe’s hips as she remained on top of him. The sheer intensity of being buried inside her, the vivid sensations of her warm swollen center faintly clenching around him but Niall not being able to move a single muscle in fear of getting caught, was making him feel as though he would internally combust at any given second.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Liz giggled out, pretending to cover her eyes, “I–...wait, do you have a guy in here?” Chloe slapped a distressed palm to her dampened forehead to swipe away at some stuck strands of hair as Liz lowered her hand from her face and wrinkled her brows, curiously leaning to the side to try and peer around Chloe.

Her blue eyes squinted just slightly before Chloe saw them go wide with her quick realization. Liz sucked back a breath and shot her stare right back to Chloe. “Oh my God...Niall?” she squealed out.

#niall #niall horan #niall fic #niall fan fic #niall au #niall smut #friends to lovers #single dad niall #sb #chapter 8 part 1 #sooo i wasnt originally going to split this chapter into two parts #but i kinda liked the idea of leaving you guys with a little suspense again hahah #so yea here is part 1 part 2 will be a bit shorter bc of where i cut it off #but i think you guys will love it #also dont hate me hahah #take a read let me know what you think #and please share!!!#😘

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drewxmay · 8 years ago

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Contestshipping Masterpost Part 12 and a half,12 and a whole, and 13 - Something I don’t know the name of, Odd Pokemon Out, and Spontanios Cumbuskin

The next episode is a Harley episode, but Bulbapedia says somthing about the ending in which May recives a letter and a rose from Drew (even though he was not seen in the episode) imforming her of another contest she can enter, so I'm thinking of skipping this one, and maybe the next one.

Also I'm mad at Bulbapedia for this incorrect entree on "odd pokemon out".

May is holding the rose and the letter she receives in the previous episode while on a boat. She apparently considers these two items as sentimental to her. As May already knows quite well what Drew means with the roses at this point in time now, her keeping and looking at Drew's romantic token that appeared in a prior episode is quite significant. However this is not necessarily a romantic hint, since there is a possibility that May is just taking "Drew's" entry in the next contest as a serious rivalry.

Bulbapedia your wrong. She still hasn't even thought about having a romantic relationship with drew and the following and past episodes show that she hasn't thought about it, and doesn't know what the roses mean. T.T

AND THEN WE HAVE SPONTANIOS CUMBUSKIN. this episode inspired me to make this masterpost so I'm just going to copy and paste, so it won't fit in as well as the past summaries I gave to episodes, which is why under each of the thinsg that I had said before I knew as much about contestshipping, I'll put a new comment, explaining what I think of it now.

MY BLUSHING CHART I SPENT A FULL HOUR ON THIS PLEASE OH PLEASE JUST READ IT (or maybe it is an episode review that older me is reviewing? this is not a bluching chart)

0:00 (now me) and we begin the episode with no Drew, and May is happy. Great. 1:22 (now me) well I thought that you already knew 1:34 (now me) no he did not send that. and he just told you. Wait why am I tagging this? 1:40 Well that was quick... (now me) well yes if you don't count the time that drew was off screen and the theme song, then it only took 30 or so seconds!

1:54 (now me) or you just followed May. Becuase you do that.

now me :skips team rocket:

2:49 (now me) DIIIEEEEEEE

3:00 (now me) Naw I'm fine

3:31 (now me) Munchlax: Well that rose isn't from Drew so it isn't for you! It's me me!

3:45 (now me) May did you forget that Drew has fangirls?

3:58 (now me) I'm pretty sure most of Drew's fangirls woul kill to see him in a swimsuit. Also artists whoa re drawing this give Drew a towl ebcuase they refuse to draw nipples.

4:03 Okay, this is was Drew normally thinks of people like this. They are fangirls and that is cool. He doesn't care that much, and really, she doesn't mean barely anything to him. Also, I'm not counting her blushings anymore, just saying. (now me) I am though!

4:21 (now me) Drew is acting how most people react after I draw them art.

4:34 (now me) People ask why he is mean to May but nice to her. I already said this before but I guess I'll just copy and paste a post. Everybody seems to misunderstand Drew’s character, thinking that he is trying to make may upset, but he really isn’t. Let me explain. Drew tries to make May want to learn more, For example, let’s take the episode where Drew was introduced. In that episode he was definitely watching her before they noticed him, so he had seen May training on the beach and decided to follow her, seeing that she could improve, and he knew how to improve. At the beginning Drew seems to be poking fun of how little ability she has, but this was actually so that she wanted to become better, and it works! For example: Who What When Where Wynuat. During the episode, they find Leechy berries, and because May didn’t know what they were, Drew tried mocking her of not knowing what they were so that she wanted to learn, and by the end of the episode… it worked! Many of the things that May knows is because Drew taught her. May would be too stubborn to really just take advice, and here is another reason why he does it. In “Three Sides to Every Story” (an episode that I believe to be referencing Contestshipping) an Electikid is making fun of (a Pokemon I don’t know how to spell’s name but it is something like Merrow) Merrow and Piplup thinks that he is just being mean, but during the episode we find out that Electikid is attacking her because he has a crush on her. Brock says, “Sometimes when a boy likes a girl, they will go out of their way to make fun of them” This is why Drew makes fun of May. He likes her, and it seems to be a great way to teach her to be a better coordinator. I have recently watched through a bit more of the episodes. At the first grand festival, Harley tells May to go through the entire Appeal round and then battling rounds with just silver wind. Drew knows that Harley is just trying to make may loose, and his first attempt to convince her not to do so was him just telling her it was a bad idea. He could’ve easily made fun of her for doing that and it would have definitely worked, but he decided not to and it didn’t work. Drew was nice to briana becuase he didn't need to make fun of her in order for him to teach her, nor did he like her. He also didn't find her that interesting so he barley even tried to teach her during the episode. Now you know. 4:42 Drew you blushed at her bad pun. This is what happens when you like somebody. WHATS GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO? T^T

(now me) finally! we have the 3rd nickname. We have Mr.Perfect, Mr.Know-it-all, and Mr.Rose! (also thank you roserade)

4:56 OKAY JUST. THIS IS SO OUT OF CONTEXT. JUST THIS LOOKS LIKE IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. WHAT WOULD YOU THINK IF YOU HEARD TWO PEOPLE SAY THIS? JUST. OMG. WOW. (me now) same reaction. It was so out of context, the writers just wanted to proove how canon it is.

5:09 (now me) Suuuuure he is Max. He also likes your sister.

5:16 I'm talking about this at the end, if you want to know why this is so important, read the rest and read the end. (now me) older me you forgot to discuss this scene at the end. I guess I have to. She's a noob.

There done.

okay but seriosly, nothing really needs to be said about this scene, there are a few others we need to mention later though.

5:53 Max was the best in this episode

:skips the part without may:

7:13 This has nothing to do with what I was saying buuuut... Wow this show sure does love to milk that Rocketshipping (James x Jessie) meme XDDDD (me now) James: looks at what seems to be Jessie with hearts for eyes: GROOVE MIME.JR!

“GROOVE MIME JR!”

7:57 (me now) Drew say that to May so that she can learn... or can she hear you? nah.

8:12 (me now) You beleive in your crush.

9:23 (me now) sirkit evolves into Masqurain. Briana is obsessed.

11:02 (me now) Max why you askin?

11:22 Brock ships it. (me now) yes he does. Mr.Flirt finally gets it.

11:40 And this scene. As I said, I will explain why it is so important at the end. (me now) fine, I'll explain.

May has actually never thought about her and Drew being together before, right now she is finally considering it, but she had just started thinking baout it so we havn't notten that much development on it yet.

11:53 Blushing May. She has never thought about it. This is also what I will talk about at the end. this is about as important as the last one I will point out before explaining. (me now) but I JUST explained.

12:07 You kicked Harley out rewrote the script and made it your own Jessie. Change the words but some of the meaning still lies in there that Harley would say.

:skips the battle:

15:00 (me now) Oh look she also has a vibrava that evolves into flygon. Are you seriosly telling me that she isn't obsessed?

17:19 (me now) Drew hopes that May will win becuase he likes her

19:00 This scene. I will make more time frames on it just pay attention. (me now) No I will delete them off of this post so that I can.

19:14 (me now, the rest is me now) Teaching and crushing on May

19:25 And people got confused as to why is is nice to Briana

19:43 Ecxuse me Mr.Flirt?

19:47 This scene is so important.

Imma explain it right now

“I’m hoping to see you back here next year too May.” - Rhapsody in Drew in Advance Battle “Hey May, just two more ribbons.” - Spontaneous Combusken in Battle Frontier. May never forgot what Drew said after the Grad Fesival. She never forgot how kiindly he had said that to her. Right now she is blushing like "oh my god am I falling in love" blushing. She had been thinking about what Briana had said and hen Drew spoke to her again like this she was reminded of both what briana had said about them having feelings for eachother, and what'd happened after the grand fesival. She is legitimatly starting to fall in love with Drew. Drew didn't forget what'd happened after the grand Fesivle either. He actually reminded her that she needed two mroe ribbons before the next grand festival, the one he was talking about when he had said "I'm hoping to see you here next year" (he ment another grand fesival not the hoen one) Their first serios romantic moment was on the beach after the grad fesivle, and now we are here again with a completly new revelation on May's part. Instead of being mystified at Drew's sudden kinda words she is sitting their, legitimatly like a schoolgirl in love with her crush standing in front of her. Compare the first scene from Advanced battle to this scene. There has been character development, and there will be more. Actually to be completly honest no other ship in pokemon has even come close to being as canon as this. Not Pokeshipping, not irakishipping, and not even armorshipping where they actually kissed. Pokeshipping came close, but it was more of a joke to the show, and I did see them try on irakishipping but it still didn't come close to contestshipping. Also before all of you aurmorshippers say that it was canon, just compare which one was better written. armoreshipping was just serena having a cruch on ash. That is poor writing. Contestshipping through actually has aspects of real life relationships, and it developed so damn well. If they brought these two characters back, either they would have completly ruined Drew's complex personality and just make him a jerk, or lets say that they actually wrote him the way that he is. They would have needed contestshipping. Okay that is all. the next episode is

#contestshipping #drew #may and drew #drew x may #pokemon drew #may x drew #May #pokemon may #masterpost #contestshipping masterpost

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Interview: ‘Take My Nose…Please!’ Offers a Funny, Insightful Look at Comedians and Plastic Surgery

Joan Kron’s Take My Nose…Please! is a seriously funny and wickedly subversive look at the role comedy has played in exposing the pressures on women to be attractive. The documentary astutely examines society’s desire/shame relationship with plastic surgery. More than 15 million cosmetic procedures are performed each year in the United States, 90% on women. Yet, for those who elect to tinker with Mother Nature, especially for high-profile women, plastic surgery is still a very dark secret. Funny women, though, are the exception. From Phyllis Diller and Joan Rivers to Roseanne Barr and Kathy Griffin, comedians have been unashamed to talk about their perceived flaws, and the steps taken to remedy them. For these dames, cosmetic surgery isn’t vanity, it’s affirmative action — compensation for the unfair distribution of youthfulness and beauty! By admitting what their sisters in drama deny, comic performers speak to women who feel the same pressures. The documentary follows two comedians as they deliberate about going under the knife. Emily Askin, an up-and coming improv performer, has always wanted her nose refined. Jackie Hoffman, a seasoned headliner on Broadway and TV, considers herself ugly and regrets not having the nose job offered in her teens. And maybe she’d like a face-lift, as well. As we follow their surprisingly emotional stories, we meet other who have taken the leap — or held out. I sat down with the very impressive first-time director Joan Kron who, incidentally, will be turning 90 later this year.

Danny Miller: I can’t remember the last time I laughed that much during a documentary — starting with that hilarious bit by Margaret Cho. I’ve always been a huge fan of Jackie Hoffman and I enjoyed hearing Emily Askin’s story. Even though women in comedy tend to be more open about such things, it was still very brave of them to put their process out there for everyone to see. Did getting them to agree to be profiled in the film take some convincing?

Joan Kron: You know, once they understood what it was about, they were very happy to talk to me on camera. They were both so honest and natural in front of the camera. Jackie never once edited herself or said, “Please don’t use that!” Emily didn’t either. In fact, I had no idea going in about some of the things she was going to reveal in the film.

It was remarkable how open she was about her past.

I can tell you how that happened. I was in Pittsburgh filming Emily performing with her improv group and we were at her mother’s house getting ready for an interview. At the time, I was thinking that the film needed more emotion, and I asked Emily, “What can I ask your mother that will trigger some emotion? And she said, “Well, you can ask her about the time I tried to kill myself.” And I said. Whoa! What?! She explained that when she was young she was molested by a family member. I did end up talking to her mother on camera about that and I think it added a lot of nuance to Emily’s story.

Totally. Including her feeling of empowerment in deciding to go down that road. “This is MY body, MY face, this is what I want to do” — not doing it in any way to please other people.

That’s it. Emily hit every point I wanted the film to convey. I got so lucky in finding her.

But you didn’t know with Emily or Jackie that their exploration would actually end with surgery?

No, I had no idea! I just knew they were thinking about it and they agreed to be filmed as they went through the process. Of course, I had absolutely no say in their decision, I would have been totally fine if they had decided not to go through with it.

The film presents such a refreshing view of this topic since most coverage we get in the media is all about the freak show element — horrifying examples of plastic surgery gone bad or people who clearly have issues going on and do way too much to alter their appearance.

Exactly. I really hate that freak show element. I’m always troubled by films and TV shows about plastic surgery because everything they give us is so exaggerated. I get it — they’re trying to make drama, they’re trying to make entertainment, they’re not going to pick somebody who says, “I would just like my nose to be slightly smaller,” they want to bring in people who are in the extreme. I’ve written about plastic surgery for many years so I’ve appeared in some of these films as a talking head, but then when I see the finished product, I always think “No, that is not the full picture.” That’s why I wanted to make this film, to show a more typical process that people go through without the freak show component.

Does it bother you when people call this film a “defense” of plastic surgery?

I did not want to make a film “for” or “against” it. If someone sees it that way, that’s their right, but that’s not what I set out to do. My goal was simply to make a realistic portrait of plastic surgery seen through the eyes of comedians. I chose to focus on comedians because they are the only people in the public eye who have been honest about their own procedures. I always say that most of Hollywood has taken the “Hypocritical Oath” — to deny it in public but do it in private! But comedians, to their credit, talk about their vulnerabilities, their problems, their issues with their apeparance, and many have been quite open about plastic surgery. They have really educated the public — I think of it as a public service, telling women what is available and possible without focusing on all the extreme scenarios.

It’s so fun to see all the footage in your film of the great comedians of my childhood: Totie Fields, Phyllis Diller, and of course, Joan Rivers. Do you think if Joan had lived, you’d have had her in the film?

Oh, she was definitely going to be in it — I knew Joan and we discussed it. I had done stories about her plastic surgeries from beginning to end, she gave her doctors permission to talk to me. Of course, a lot of people think Joan died while having plastic surgery but that’s not true. She was having an endoscopic procedure because she had some polyps on her vocal cords and was worried about her voice. It had absolutely nothing to do with plastic surgery but a lot of people wanted to believe that because it fit in with their morality play that bad things happen to people who get plastic surgery.

And, of course, we are such a judgmental society that we’re either saying “Ew, she’s let herself go!” or “Ew, she’s had work done.”

Exactly.

Jackie Hoffman is just hilarious in the documentary while being so vulnerable and honest. How did she react to the finished film?

She didn’t want to see it at first because she doesn’t like watching herself. Finally, I said, “Jackie, you have to see it!” and dragged her to my house for a screening. She was nervous but she loved it. She even laughed at all her own jokes! She’s come to a few screenings, too. At one Q&A after a screening in New York, someone asked her, “So, Jackie, if you had it to do over, do you regret having the surgery?” She said, “Regret it? I love it! I even went back to have my eyes and chin done!”

It’s interesting to watch both Jackie and Emily navigate their decisions in the context of their relationships. Of course, both of their partners were extremely supportive and not in any way pressuring them to go through with it. That would have put their stories in a different light.

Yes, people are surprised by that because they’re so used to thinking that women do it for the men in their lives which I think is another old wives’ tale. I mean, yes, of course there are some men who do encourage the women they’re with to get plastic surgery, but to be honest, that’s mostly about breasts — a body part I wasn’t covering at all in my film! (Laughs.)

Joan, I know you don’t make a big deal about your age, but I have to say how inspiring it is that you would make your first film at the age of 89.

Thank you. I’ve never been shy about taking on big projects — not in the movie world until now, but in other areas. In the 60s I put together huge art exhibitions. And my husband and I had a buffalo ranch for many years. So I thought, “Well, if I can understand how to raise a buffalo, I can do anything.” Buffalos are wild animals — you don’t go up to a buffalo and pat it, they don’t go into a barn at night. At the height of our ranch, we had a hundred head of buffalo and two breeding bulls that were about 3,000 pounds each. If they see a pasture they want to go to, there’s no holding them back, they’ll just knock down any iron barriers they see.

I’ve never heard a better metaphor for the film industry! I’m personally inspired by the diversity of your career.

I graduated from Yale Drama School in 1948. I wanted to be a costume designer and I worked in the theater and did a lot of early television. The main thing I had to learn was resourcefulness — how to make something out of nothing since we often had hardly any budget. I remember working on a production of Androcles and the Lion off-Broadway and figuring out how to use a $2.00 mop for the lion! So being resourceful is just a way of life for me.

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#Documentary #Emily Askin #Jackie Hoffman #Joan Kron #Joan Rivers #Plastic surgery #Take My Nose...Please!#Interviews

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