#to me. it is mundane. its as annoying to me as washing dishes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charmspoint · 3 years ago

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Drabble prompt: if possible, a young Gojo asking Kenjaku about his father. I really love your Mother fic and I always wonder about extra “mundane” scenes in that au…

I'm really glad you're enjoying it! It was supposed to be a weird lil side project so actually seeing people digging into it and finding it interesting has been v fun for me <3 Tho it def lacks mundane scenes lmaoo, Kenny is the type of narrator that doesn't give a fuck about describing anything that doesn't pertain to his direct interest so a lot of Satoru's growing up is just sorta neglected in the narrative on purpose >:3 so this makes a v fun prompt to dig into

Drabbles 4 prompt 7! I hope you enjoy!

It was still amusing to them, how despite the grandeur of six eyes and all the legends and expectations spun around its user, the boy was still perfectly happy sitting at their kitchen table, working diligently on his coloring book.

What a harmless little thing he was becoming, an obedient pet in the palm of their hand. Skittish and shy around strangers, clutching to their dresses whenever someone so much as looked in his direction. Children were so easy, much easier to deal with than an adult six eyes user would have been. Malleable like clay underneath their fingers. They had no doubt he would execute his role perfectly when it came down to it.

But that was still some time off and for now they allowed for this peaceful life, boring days filled with the sounds of colors scratching against the paper and the clinking of dishes in the sink. Kenjaku never fancied themselves a domestic type. Family had always been more of a unit of measurement than anything else, but in the ever evolving game of sorcery, one had to stay adaptable no matter what.

And if this particular research dragged them into a quiet life, then so be it.

There was a creek behind their back as Six Eyes pushed himself from the table, padding on silent feet to their side. Children tended to be quite needy for attention and Six Eyes was no different. It was like every few minutes there was something new he wanted to show them. It was hard to convey to him that most of those things were horribly uninteresting. This time around he grabbed on to their sleeve and tugged, interrupting their chore as he tended to do, pointing at something in his coloring book.

“Mommy, I colored us.”

They spared the book an appeasing glance. It was a picture of a family, though Six Eyes had only colored the mother and the son in, probably having no idea what to do with the father and daughter.

“That’s very nice, sweetheart.” They patted his head and hoped that would be that, but he continued staring up at them, full force of six eyes burying underneath their skin. “Is there something else?”

“I just wanted to ask...” he mumbled out his words, eyes darting from them to the book. How annoying it was when he got hesitant.

“Then do ask, sweetheart, mommy doesn’t have all day.”

“Do I have a daddy?”

Ah.

There it was.

Really, they had expected that question eventually. It was somewhat offset by the type of population that inhabited the small village Kenjaku had chosen for their home, but it was going to come to the surface sooner or later. They didn’t really remember the man that had impregnated Gojo Yua, it had been a fair bit since they had gone rifling through her memories, as bland and unimportant as they were. But the actual man that existed didn’t matter at all. This was a question of origin not of paternity.

Might as well deal with it now, at four years of age it was basically a perfect time to trim that part of Six Eyes’ story.

“Of course you do, what a silly question that is. Really, sweetheart, use your head a little.”

He squirmed uncomfortably which was good. Might stop him from pestering them about needless things in the future.

“Am I going to meet him?”

“No.”

“W-why not?”

They took in a deep breath, laying down the pan they’ve been washing with a resolute thump. Six Eyes jumped slightly, wrapping his arms around himself and staring up at them. It was amusing, how easily startled he was.

“Why must you ask me such questions, darling,” they muttered, staring down at the murky liquid that filled their sink. “Isn’t this good enough, just the two of us?”

“I just wanted-“

“You just wanted, you just wanted, you always just want things, you never think of how it affects me, or what I want, don’t you?”

“I-“

“You are just like him, in that way, you know?”

Six Eyes’ shoulders jolted up and they barely suppressed a smirk.

“Always wanting things from me, demanding them even. You’re not a stupid child, are you Satoru? Do you think I would be here, so far away from everything and everyone, if I wanted to speak of what I’ve left behind?”

They turned to face him fully, watched him worry his hands against each other and his brain scrambled for the right answer. He was so full of tics and tells, it was way too easy.

“I thought-“

“You didn’t think at all. If you thought about it you wouldn’t have asked, now would you? But okay, that’s a fair question. Mommy understands. I don’t blame you for being curious.”

They knelt down, cupping his cheek in the palm of their hand, looking deep into those crystal blue eyes. It was surprising, what a quick crier he was, his eyes were already misted and they didn’t even do anything.

“I hate your daddy, do you understand that, sweetheart?” They kept their tone gentle, but they didn’t let him back out of their grasp. “Your daddy is one of the people who wanted to take you away from me. My little baby, my little treasure. He would have taken you away and made you an object, a weapon. He didn’t even ask how I felt about it, what I thought about it. His word was law and that was that, so I did the only thing I could have done. I ran away and took you with me. And I would do it again too, to keep you safe, to make sure you can grow up happy. I left my home and my family and everyone I knew, threw it all away, made myself so lonesome, just for you.”

They pulled him into a hug and he clung on to them gratefully, burying his face in their chest. He was such a tiny, shuddering thing. Soft enough for a stronger hug to leave visible patterns upon his skin.

“It hurts; you know? Hearing you ask about it. I left it all for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it, do you understand? I wouldn’t return there, oh no, but it does hurt. Asking about your daddy, jogging all these memories, really Satoru, it’s hard on me.”

“I’m sorry…” came the whispered reply and they shushed the boy, pulling him closer in, gently whispering in his ear.

“That’s okay, that’s okay, you didn’t know. Mommy would never hold it against you, even if it hurt her as much as this did. And now you know. Was it worth it? Please, do not ask me any more than that, you’ll break your mothers heart, making her relive all of those memories.”

He nodded softly, the notion barely noticeable from inside their embrace.

“I won’t, I’m sorry.”

“There we go, always such a good listener. Mommy loves you so much, you know?”

“I know. I love you too, mommy.”

“That’s my good boy.”

#drabble prompts #jujutsu kaisen #kenjaku #gojo satoru #jjk #lucy does a write #plagueofskeletons #answered #cw: manipulative parenting #this was the last prompt not a day ago but now i have two more to go!

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xiasgone · 3 years ago

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okay so you know how a lot of ship headcanons focus on the things they love about their partner? playing the sims made me think about average things sal and eve dislike about each other. like, no mob drama involved, they just have conflict over the following mundane things.

while his spontaneity is a big trait eve was drawn to (when younger, eve reached a point where she secretly idolized sal, but we won’t talk about that atm) eve also dislikes how uncouth sal can be. even when sal does have good social manners in public, he still maintains die-hard traits like pointing, getting louder when excited or if he finds something humorous, or saying things that she personally feels shouldn’t be said in public. (ie: sal casually telling a friend that his uncle giovanni was a drunk, eve gasps)

eve dislikes how sal is willing to eat late night snacks in bed whether it be potato chips, a sandwich, or ice cream. its so disgusting, the idea of crumbs on the mattress she lays on makes her skin crawl.

she dislikes the way he washes dishes. she dislikes the way many people wash dishes, but still.

she hates how if he really enjoys a movie or tv show, he cranks the volume of the television all the way up. in modern, when they have a tv in their bedroom, she has him wear headphones because it’ll disrupt her sleep. but still, she can hear his laughter or commentary in her sleep.

and on a really, really bad day? eve abhors how confrontational sal can be when it comes to topics he wants to discuss because he’ll follow her throughout the house trying to talk/trying to get his point of view across.

sal dislikes how particular and nit-picky eve is. sometimes sal feels like eve controls the house while he (and the kids) are just people who happen to live there because she’s in control of the furniture that’s purchased, the way the furniture is positioned, everything. he has a idea for a room? she has shot him too many times than he’d care to admit. and on cleaning days, or when preparing for the holidays, everyone - including him, works to make the house the way she envisions it. sal has spent an afternoon shampooing the rug before.

sal is also annoyed with how emotional eve can be. sure, she portrays herself as very stoic and stern in public, but behind closed doors she cries a lot. sometimes, sal thinks that eve watches sorrowful romantic films just so she can cry. but beyond that, she’ll shed tears if a pipe leaks during the holiday season, behaving as though everything is ruined. as though it’s the end of the world!

when eve is angry, it’s also the worst because she shuts down and won’t talk (resulting in him following her around)

and he is also agitated when eve tries to ‘correct’ his behavior. Telling him what not to say in public, shaking her head when he’s grinning and pointing. She makes so much a ‘big deal’ of his behavior when he has spotted ten other people laughing their heads off and showing all sorts of emotions in the same venue.

but, at the end of the day, sal feels that eve has respectable qualities. although it doesn’t seem like it at a glance, he has learned certain things from her about public representation. sure, she hyper focuses on things like conduct and appearance in ways he will not, but he feels that’s because she cares about being the best she can be. he can admit to himself that the very things that get on his nerves are things he married her for.

eve, meanwhile, remains has a love/hate relationship with sal’s qualities. what she has always loved about sal is his optimism, his protectiveness of others, and the way he’s visible in a room. he can make her laugh and he can be incredibly romantic, but those previously described traits? they’re just too much. it boils down to eve still having a lot to unpack with the restrictive way she was raised and the fact she, to an extent, likes things to go her way while sal wants to do things his way. (but in the end, sal compromises more than eve, because being raised spoiled causes eve to secretly have a strong sense of entitlement that lingers on.)

these are things they dive into during couple’s therapy.

#yeah i'll still post headcanons every now and then

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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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—saccharine

pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 2,319 prompt: seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. so... what’s this feeling that’s churning in the pit of his stomach when he meets you for the first time? warnings: none. minor cursing. fluff attack. a/n: to celebrate my follower milestone! thank you all for supporting and reading my fics, it means a lot to me!

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle.

First, the alarm rings. Then, he slams the snooze button on his phone before resuming into a light sleep for another eight minutes. The annoying horn sings again, and a wash of regret hits from never changing it out of the default, so he finally accepts this by getting up and sliding his feet lazily into a pair of slippers by the side of his bed before making way into the bathroom.

His hair is a mess. But it’s a mess everyday. Life has gone to the point that even brushing his teeth has become a dreadful chore. Shuffling through his bin of hair products, he finds the mousse he consistently loses and finds on repeat and then slaps a boatload of it onto his head.

This is basically a day-in-the-life of Kim Seokjin. Except it’s everyday. It’s never ending. It feels like one of those time loop movies where when he ends his day, it starts back off exactly like it did yesterday.

To be fair, he can’t complain. He’s got a roof over his head, an apartment all to himself (that means without a roommate), plus a well-paying full time job. It’s hard to whine and cry about how his life seems to have no excitement, other than the occasional meeting with his friends, but contrarily… there’s not much to look forward to.

It’s the same mundane activities. Opening the cabinet above his kitchen counter as he usually does at this time, he grabs his favorite Cheerios. Good starts with happy hearts, as their commercials say, but Seokjin isn’t entirely sure that’s true.

He’s a “cereal first and milk last�� kind of guy. Not that he judges those who do it backwards, but he thinks if anyone does the routine in the opposite order, they might actually be backwards. It’s a condition—he makes it seem, and it’s a rather controversial topic for the guy.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his bowl of breakfast goods. He reads the news on his phone, and when the reminder on his watch dings, Seokjin rushes to put his dishes into the sink and hauls himself down the hall, in direction to his walk-in-closet that evidently is just too big for it being only himself. It’s a constant indication that he’s alone.

By the time it’s 8:30AM, he’s dressed in his suit and tie, hair slicked back, and has a satchel slung over his shoulder in preparation of yet another day at the office.

But maybe he’d stop by that new place this morning. Change of pace. Maybe it’ll liven up his day and give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’d like it.

The place is around the corner, less than a three minute walk the moment he leaves his apartment building, and if he timed himself, it probably takes longer to leave his home and out of the building. The shop is cute; decor stickers are laid out delicately along the windows, the walls are painted a pretty blush pink, and there’s smiles on all the workers’ faces as if they enjoyed being there.

There’s a smile on your face in particular that captures his attention.

Seokjin is a relatively kind guy, or so he thinks he is. He’s never pinned over girls like those shows he’s seen on TV, but he’s had his fair share of relationships. He’s not shy, but he’s also not outgoing. He has an abundance of friends but only a few are ones he trusts.

And the girlfriends he had were great but… no one really appreciates his generosity as much as he’d like.

He thinks he’s crazy at this moment, quite frankly, because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s this theory and idea that writers of a romance genre film and story that people whipped up together to make it seem more appealing to their audiences. But he doesn’t actually think it’s true.

Or is it?

Hair up in a messy bun, there’s a swipe of flour that coats your one cheek, and a smile that dresses your face so beautifully. You’re in a simple outfit that’s a combination of a white tee and blue jeans with the shop’s apron on top, while running around to keep up with all the orders coming through. He has hearts brimming in his pupils and he can’t seem to stop the way his chest tightens the second he lays his eyes on you. Is this what love at first sight is?

Seokjin doesn’t only regret not changing the default ringtone of his alarm this morning. He also regrets not asking for your number.

When he reaches his office, he realizes he forgets to ask for cream and sugar at the bakery. The dark, warm liquid glides down his throat with some difficulty; the bitterness layering his tongue but the memory of you sparks sweetness from within. Who were you? He doesn’t even know you and you’re on his mind like crazy.

Now, Seokjin has seen How I Met Your Mother. He’s watched the nine seasons, totaling out to two-hundred and eight episodes, so needless to say, Seokjin knows what goes on in that show. And ironically, he hates Ted. The guy is a hopeless romantic that thinks every girl he has his eyes on is ‘the one.’ Seokjin refuses to become like Ted, and he would be caught dead replicating those same actions.

Then why the fuck is he caught up on a girl he’s seen once?

The second time Seokjin comes by the bakery, it’s a hell of a lot less busy. In fact, it’s only three people that man the storefront, rather than the six that he saw the first time he stopped by. He has his fingers crossed behind his back as he waits in the queue patiently, hoping you’d be the one taking his order this time around.

Luck must be on his side because you’re greeting him with those pearly white teeth. “Good morning, nice to see you. What can I get for you today?”

Abort, abort! He can’t talk. He swears that his heart has found its way up into his throat, and he can’t get any words to come out.

You blink. Those gorgeous long lashes brush your cheeks so deftly, and it swells his heart that’s now lodged in the path of his airways. “Sir?”

Seokjin swallows. “Oh—yeah, sorry sorry. Uh, can I get a medium hot coffee? Cream and sugar, please. Forgot to mention that last time and I almost died from the bitterness.” Was that an appropriate comment to make? Did it make you laugh? Or were you offended that he just insulted your workplace’s coffee

He cheers in success on the inside when a soft chuckle escapes from your lips. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear. I guess we should have also done our part and asked if you wanted any. Did you want to order anything else?”

Ah. Was the conversation already ending? But it’s so soon! He barely held the dialogue for a couple seconds, and since he’s got your attention, he can’t let go now. Quickly, his eyes skim the menu and the display case full of baked goods. “Uh, what do you recommend?” He asks, gesturing to the sweets.

You wave your hand for another coworker to take the next customer’s order. Walking over to the sweets, Seokjin trails over as well, observing your expression. You’ve got your brows furrowed, deep in thought with a quirk of the side of your lips, engrossed with the plentiful of options. “Do you like tarts?”

—

Seokjin is a regular now.

Whenever the clock strikes 7:30AM, he’s already in his work attire, hair at its best, and has checked his face in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Then, he’s on route to the corner bakery.

He wants to look good before he meets you. Handsome guy for a pretty girl. It’s only right.

The bells at the front door of the shop ring loudly the moment he enters in, and immediately his ears are filled with that beautiful laugh of yours, but you’re not alone. It’s accompanied by someone else’s, a voice that doesn’t match any of your other coworkers and his jaw clenches at the thought. Who is this male that claims to be the purpose of your giggling with a mop he calls hair on the top of his head?

“Oh!” You beam, lifting up the cup of hot coffee in hand. “Seokjin! Come here, I have a new pastry for you to try, and your daily caffeinated beverage to pair it with. Plus, I want you to meet my friend.”

His name is Taehyung. The freaking guy looks like a model, strutting into the café like it’s his runway, and when his gaze meets Seokjin’s, it makes Seokjin feel small.

Seokjin likes you, if the amount of times he comes in a week is evidence for it. He doesn’t just do that either; he often stirs up a conversation, asks how your day is going so far, and even goes out of his way to remember small details so he can bring it up next time. But he can’t help but wonder—do you have a boyfriend? Are you being kind only because Seokjin is a customer? Or are you normally this sweet as those raspberry filled pastries you set him up with?

And those questions are only emphasized when Taehyung smiles, extends his hands and offers Seokjin a firm shake. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s entire work day has gone to shit. All he could think about was who Taehyung was and why you were so adamant about Seokjin meeting him.

After taking the last bite of the delicious pastry you packed for him (free of charge, too), it hits him.

If Seokjin liked you, he should just confess his feelings, no matter what the consequences. Instead of sitting here with his shoulders slouched, eating this treat you gave him with a pout upon his lips, he shouldn’t continue waiting around and feeling sorry for himself anymore. Why would he make himself suffer like this when there’s a way to end this vicious cycle?

Seokjin concludes that he’s going to confess tonight.

—

What Seokjin learns about you is that you are by far not close to his ideal dream girl.

You’re the “milk first, cereal last” gal, and he believes you’re ass backwards. You like consistency, and your favorite ringtone is the sound of those stupid horns he has for alarms in the morning. You enjoy the first few hours of your day, basking in the routine that you’ve put together yourself, including the one that had recently involved seeing Seokjin’s face.

And although you’re not his dream girl, you’ve become it.

“I like you,” He finally confesses, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that match the decor stickers plastered on the shop's windows. “Would you… go out with me?”

Seokjin isn’t here in the mornings like he normally is, opting that since this is definitely a change of pace, he might as well go all out. Maybe this will be different. Maybe he’ll be happier.

Stunned, your mouth drops open. You’re stuttering over your own words, practically malfunctioning like a machine. “Wha—Like—what? Like… you like me as in like… a woman? More than a friend? You want to take me out?”

“Uh,” Seokjin scratches behind his ear anxiously. Was his plan backfiring? “Yes? I… like you. As in, I come here in the mornings for coffee, yeah, but I mostly came to see you. I enjoy hearing your laugh, seeing your smiles, and listening to you talk about these pastries like they’re your world and I—“ He pauses, inhaling a sharp breath, “—then you introduced me to this really good looking guy named Taehyung and I didn’t know what my chances were with you anymore, so here I am. Confessing.”

You’re silent. Truthfully, Seokjin’s not feeling good about this. His palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and you still haven’t said a word and he’s sure that over thirty seconds have already passed by.

“What—“ You start again, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. “Thank god, really.”

The front of Seokjin’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, combing your fingers through your loosened locks. “I’ve been trying to tell my coworkers that I had this stupid crush on you since you first came in. You’re such a great listener, you’re handsome, and fun to talk to. They think you’re too good to be true, so they thought you wanted to be my gay best friend. Hence… the Taehyung test.”

“The Taehyung test?” Seokjin reiterates.

Chewing on your bottom lip, your eyes are swirls of apologies. “He’s cute, right? Either you’d get jealous that a guy like him has my attention and you like me, or you like him and you’re jealous that he’s making me laugh instead of you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders drop in relief. “So… does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

You smile softly. “Of course, Jin.”

He doesn’t think those mundane activities he identified before are boring anymore. No, not with you, they’re not. He doesn’t mind watching you pour milk instead of cereal first in the mornings because he’s glad he gets to be the one who pinches your side teasingly and call you a weirdo. He doesn’t hate the sound of the horns—okay, a lie, he hates it so much, but they’re bearable when you’re around since you don’t hesitate to shut it off the minute it rings, and immediately hop out the bed, without using the snooze button. Brushing his teeth is a delight, especially when he sees your toothbrush sitting in your own designated cup on your side of the sink.

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle.

But Seokjin doesn’t mind those things if it’s done with you.

#seokjin #seokjin x reader #bts #bts fanfic #jin x reader #jin fanfic #gyukultfics #jin

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wlntrsldler · 5 years ago

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Chérie (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

yoncexl submitted:

Can I have a enemies to lovers with Bucky? Pleaseee where y/n is a sunshine and Bucky a grumpy old man tysm 💖💖

Anonymous said:

64 from the prompt list w Bucky? hehe love u (“I think your cat wants to kill me.”)

PROMPT: Bucky doesn’t understand why Y/N is always so happy. He never thought he would be one of the people who got entranced by her until he was.

Warnings: fluff, some language

Song: Cherry by Harry Styles

Sure, maybe Bucky was being irrational. It wasn’t like he meant to be annoyed by your bubbly personality but how could someone be so goddamn happy all the time?

Clearly there were more things to complain about and mourn than there was to celebrate. You were in the midst of a pandemic, Steve came back as a wrinkly old man, you lost two good friends, the world was burning to ashes and yet, here you were. Happy as a peach.

You squealed loudly, interrupting a napping Bucky in the common room, after ripping open the 70th package (It was more like 4th package but Bucky liked to exaggerate) you received in the mail. He opened his left eye, wanting to revert back to the moments before your arrival when there was peace and quiet. He saw you stare fondly at the new record you just bought. Another pop album, he assumed. That’s all you ever listened to.

“Do you mind?” He huffed, twisting his body to face you. His eyes were now wide open, unable to return to his peaceful slumber. “Some of us are sleeping.”

Bucky knew he didn’t really have a right to be mad at you. He had his own room to take naps in and he could easily just walk over and do just that. He just liked giving you attitude, hoping you’d return it one day. But that day was not today.

“Sorry,” You blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just got carried away. Look what I got.”

Bucky’s expression remained cold. It was a sight to see, really. The young, bright, and cheerful expression on your face. The wide smile traveling from your lips to the crinkles by your eyes. Your head was peeking up above the large record in your hand.

And then there was Bucky. Big and built, hair in disarray, with his lips pressed in a thin line. His arms were crossed on his chest, biceps prominent. He stared at you with a blank expression, counting the seconds before you finally retreated the record you shoved in his face.

“I wanted to get the limited edition one but that was sold out.”

Harry Styles: Fine Line, he read the tag on the corner of the plastic. The name was familiar. He remembered it displayed on the car radio in the last mission you two shared. Bucky remembered the loud, off-key, singing of you and Peter in the backseat of the car, as he sat beside a driving Sam. Sam wasn’t a fan of the music but he was a fan of seeing Bucky’s irritated expression so he let you and Peter control the music for the four hour drive back.

It was hell.

You finally removed the record from his space and admired it. You sighed in adoration, clutching the disk close to your heart. You began to pick up the scraps of delivery papers that littered the floor and started walking towards your bedroom.

Finally, Bucky sighed in content, some peace and quiet.

Just as a small smile started to form on Bucky’s face while he started to get comfortable again on the couch, a faint noise was heard from down the hall. He groaned loudly, grabbing one of the couch cushions to cover his ears. Of course you’d play it the minute you got it to your record player.

It didn’t fully drown out the noise in the background, irritating Bucky some more. So much for sleep.

He wouldn’t ever admit it to your face but your music wasn’t that bad.

“Uhhh, Buck?” You questioned from behind him. He rolled his eyes, earning a slap on the arm from Sam. Be nice, that’s what his look told Bucky. “I think your cat wants to kill me.”

“That means I taught him well.” Bucky muttered under his breath. A part of him didn’t want you to hear it, but he secretly hoped you did.

“Dude.” Sam smacked him behind his head. “Really?”

You laughed wholeheartedly, emerging from the kitchen with Alpine in your arms. “Never mind, he just wanted me to pick him up.”

Bucky’s eye twitched upon seeing you cuddle with his pet. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, per se, he was just aggravated that everyone and everything seemed to love you. It was like they all gravitated towards you and he didn’t understand why.

Okay.. maybe he did. You were a good person. Nearly perfect, even. But that’s why Bucky didn’t like you. There was no way someone could ever be that perfect.

Firstly, it wasn’t really fair. Nobody should ever be this like-able. Or kind. Or funny. Or pretty. Or strong. Or passionate. Or fucking perfect. It was really just unfair.

Secondly, Bucky knew he had some problems. He knew he didn’t really think much like everyone else. Sam called him mentally unstable for not being able to be civil with you, more than a few times, and Bucky actually agreed. Had he met you before all of this happened, he would’ve liked you. Hell, he may have even had a crush on you because back then he was like you. He was hopeful, the “glass half-full” type of person. But after everything that happened in his life, he changed. He just didn’t get how you managed to always look on the bright side even when the world was crumbling at your feet.

It was Alpine’s purring that snapped him out of his thoughts. The cat was now rubbing against his calf after you put him down to exit the room. Bucky smiled softly at the cat that Steve got him a few weeks ago. Alpine licked Bucky’s metal hand a few times before making his way to his little cat bed in the common room.

“You need to play nice.” Sam warned him, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “I still don’t get why you hate her so much.”

“Something about her seems off to me.” Bucky shrugged, cleaning up his finished plates. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I don’t know.”

“No,” Sam replied, following Bucky’s actions. He dumped his plates on top of the ones in Bucky’s arms. “Something about you is off.”

He glared at his friend who was already halfway out of the room before he tried to call out for him to do his own dishes. Bucky accepted defeat and made his way to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. He saw your washed dishes placed neatly on the drying rack, clear that it had just been washed. He silently thanked you for always cleaning up after yourself. His eyes drifted to the pile of dirty plates that slowly accumulated from the Avenger’s breakfast festivities. Unlike the rest of them, he sighed.

Bucky placed the plates down for a quick moment to retrieve his phone and airpods from his pockets. He unlocked it and searched through the Spotify app. He started to look at the rest of the Avenger’s playlist. For a special agent who valued confidentiality, you sure did want people to know exactly what you were listening to. Bucky learned to turn that feature off after Sam bullied him after he saw that Bucky was listening to the Hairspray soundtrack.

His eyes locked at your Spotify playlist. Hmm, he thought, why not? Bucky pressed at the familiar title of the album the link took him to. He inserted the airpods in his ears and hit shuffle.

The songs made the chore of cleaning up after the Avengers a little less tedious.

You were silently reading the new book that came in your subscription box on the balcony of the tower. Nothing could be heard for miles besides the sounds of nature and the faint noise of cars passing by the highways.

Most of the team had gone out to get dinner but you opted to stay in and get caught up with your book. A blanket was draped carelessly over your legs, shielding your bare legs from the cold. You turned the page, your thumb finding its way between your lips. It was a habit you could never seem to break. You did it subconsciously, especially when you were deep in thought or extremely focused on something.

You were engrossed in your book, not hearing the knocking that came from the other side of the balcony door. Bucky looked at you from behind the clear, sliding door. He squinted trying to read the cover of the book you were reading. It was different from the one he saw you reading a month ago. Your ability to read and finish books quickly intrigued him since he was someone who could never sit in a chair without fidgeting, much less read a 300-something page book.

He realized he was staring for far too long. Bucky entered the balcony and cleared his throat, causing you to drop your book and look up at him. You offered a warm smile, “Hi, Buck. What’s up?”

“Me and Wanda are ordering in,” He explained, his eyes drifting to the cover of your book. Only Love is Real by Brian Weiss, he noted in his head. “Did you want anything?”

You pondered the question for a minute, “Maybe some fried chicken.”

“Okay sounds good,” He replied. “You should come in soon, it’s getting late.”

You looked around. It had gotten significantly darker than when you first came out. The lamp beside you that helps you with reading masked the sinking sun. “What time is it?”

Bucky pulled out his phone to check the time. You caught a glimpse of his lock screen, eyes growing wide when you noticed the too familiar song and album cover in the front. Cherry by Harry Styles. “9:21PM.”

He looked up to see you fighting back a small smile. His eyebrows furrowed, staring back at you. You noticed his worried look and immediately straightened up. “Thanks, Buck. I’ll come in soon.”

Bucky nodded and turned around to return back into the compound. You stayed quiet about what you saw but you couldn’t help the large smile overtaking your features. You’ll tease him about this one day, just not tonight.

You focused back on your book, your mind becoming one with the words on the page again. You spread out the blanket some more to cover your legs better and cuddled into the softness of the outdoor sofa. The sounds of the city was being drowned out, however, by the faint sounds of strings and the French voice of Camille Rowe.

“Y/N ordered another package.” Sam laughed, picking up the boxes left at their doorstep. “Oh, hold on a second.”

Bucky’s head perked up at Sam’s words knowing that there’s going to be some teasing that will follow. The mundane boxes were almost, always yours. You were the only one in the tower who liked to spend your money on things like clothes, accessories, and sometimes snacks. The rest of the team just ordered it from Stark Industries and it would magically appear in their compound in less than 24 hours.

“Did you order something from Ebay, Barnes?”

He snatched the box from Sam, grunting in response to his question. “Isn’t it a federal offense to go through people’s mail?”

“No, it’s a federal offense to open people’s mail. There’s a difference.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and brought the package to his room. Once the door was shut, he let himself smile at the brown box in his hands. He sat down on his bed and started unwrapping it. His eyes glossed over the vinyl record. Limited Edition, the sticker on the corner stated. It was the one you told him about.

Maybe it did dent his bank account more than he would have liked it to but he knew you would love it. He was just sitting in his bedroom and he heard you quietly sobbing, a few nights ago. If he didn’t have super-soldier hearing he would’ve definitely missed it. It was quiet but it was there.

The familiar tune of Cherry played from your record player. Bucky sat up in his bed, not knowing if he should come in and comfort you. It was the way that you halted your sobs, to make yourself more discrete, when the song ended, that broke his heart into pieces. He couldn’t stop himself from getting up his bed and walked over to the room beside him.

Before he could knock, he stopped himself. What would he even say to you? He just stood there in front of your bedroom door, not knowing what to do next. He hasn’t necessarily been the kindest to you, even when all you’ve been was pleasant. He really didn’t have the right to even try to comfort you.

He sighed sadly and retreated back to his bedroom.

So now here he was, three days after that night, with the vinyl you’ve wanted for a while, that he paid extra for expedited shipping for. Bucky dusted off the plastic covering of the vinyl and made his way to your room. His plan was to place it on your bed and walk away, he wasn’t expecting you to be there. You were supposed to be on a mission.

Bucky’s eyes widened, frantically hiding the vinyl behind his back. Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at him confused. “What are you doing here, Buck?”

“I thought you were out.”

“Decided to stay in. What are you doing here?” You asked again. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company and all, but I’m just curious.”

Of course, Bucky thought. Only you would be trying to assure him that you enjoy his company when he invaded your privacy by barging in your room. “I have something for you.”

Your eyes lit up at his words. You turned to face him on your bed, your legs criss-crossed. “You do?”

Bucky extended his arms out, showing you the vinyl that he got for you. You gasped, leaning over to touch it. Tears welled up in your eyes, words getting stuck in your throat. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Bucky,” You sighed, holding the vinyl by your chest. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” He said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he answered you.

“Why did you get this for me?”

“I heard you the other night,” He confessed, taking a seat beside you. “I heard you crying. I-I was gonna come in and try to comfort you but I don’t really have much expertise on that. Plus, I haven’t really been the nicest to you, I wouldn’t know where to start to try to make you feel better. Then I remembered you talking about this record. Music seems to make you happy, I think, so I bought it.”

You placed the vinyl safely beside you and engulfed Bucky in a tight hug. He was stiff for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to such physical affection, but he later warmed up. His arms wrapped themselves around you, letting himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, smelling your sweet perfume. You heard him sigh under your touch and you started to wonder when was the last time he was held like this.

“You’re amazing,” You murmured in his shoulder, pulling away. You kissed his cheek sweetly, a blush creeping up your cheeks once you saw the redness on his. “Thank you, Buck. I can’t explain how much this means to me.”

He smiled at you, genuinely. It was the first time he smiled at you without it being partnered with a smart, witty remark. It wasn’t sarcastic or anything, just pure fondness. “Anytime, Y/N.”

You two just sat there staring at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat and got up. “I should leave you to it. I know how you like to listen to records the minute you get them.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You never noticed how much he actually paid attention to you. “Wait, Buck. Do you wanna stay and listen to it with me?”

He took a look at you, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. He was silently hoping that you would ask him to stay but now that those words did leave your lips, all the life was winded right out of him. You liked his presence. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love yours.

“Let’s see what all the hype is about.” He teased, taking a seat beside you again.

“Oh you’ll love it,” You smirked, remembering the time you saw that he was listening to the album on his phone. “He’s great.”

“I doubt it.”

You continued to fight off the goofy smile on your face as Bucky tried to act like he hasn’t listened to the album before. You looked at his expression when the familiar tune of Cherry started playing. You pretended to look away, getting on your phone to look busy. Your eyes looked up at Bucky who was discretely mouthing the words to the song.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier one shot #winter soldier fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x yn #winter soldier x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #the avengers #frances writes #frances song fics

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gravityfissure · 4 years ago

Text

All Good Things End : Deirdre & Otto

Summary: Deirdre summons her mushroom husband for his final sacrifice. TW: Blood, Injury, Mushroom Manipulation PARTIES: @deathduty & Otto

"We're all gathered here today to witness a truly beautiful event: the death of Otto." Deirdre, host, waved her ceremonial toaster around. The rest of the fae in attendance, mostly pixies and leprechauns, lifted—or attempted to lift—their own toasters. She'd forgotten what the toasters were supposed to represent exactly, other than their triumph and humanity's inferiority, but most things usually represented that. She turned to her husband, and smirked at him. She recalled their dalliance in the cemetery, their wedding in the woods and the escapades that followed. She was almost sad to be rid of him now. He was, perhaps, the funnest human she'd ever ensnared. Out of fondness, or nostalgia, or something else entirely, she gestured to him and her gaze softened. "Do you have anything you'd like to say, Otto? You're allowed some words before you die." The pixies gasped in unison; it was customary to get the humans to be as silent as possible, during these things—their voices were largely annoying. Deirdre shook her head and quickly explained to them, "Otto is my guest, and my human. He represents me, too. I want him to speak." And so she allowed it.

How the hell had this become his life? It was a thought that crossed his mind rather often and one that crossed his mind right now as he made his way up to the spot that Deirdre had ordered him to come along to. She’d instructed him to clean up, wear a nice nose piercing (for he’d gotten a selection from the store with his punishment) explaining the black steel ring that pierced his right nostril and not tell anyone about what he was doing. Things had not been good of late. Whatever the hell had happened at the bar, the fact he’d been forced to live as nothing more than a mundane human. Wash the dishes. Brush his hair. Empty the trash. No snap of his fingers and things took care of themselves. Worry had kept him up for several nights, waiting for any hint of it to come back. It had to come back didn’t it? Hells there was no way this could be his life. No way he could live without the essence of his very being. The toll was clear, even with the effort he’d taken to make himself look presentable.

Admittedly a loophole he’d found in that instruction was that he hadn’t been told not to tell anyone where he was going, explaining the google-maps pin he’d dropped Mercy, Jane and Cece for good measure. If someone did need to do corpse collection… Well, at least they had a start on where to find him he supposed. The phone had been tucked away and forgotten as the new ceremony began. Different this time and Otto truly wasn’t sure what to expect he couldn’t see any knives that Deirdre had claimed to be fond of in the past so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The myriad of thoughts running through his mind was distracting, and when he was finally invited to speak and say someone Otto was at a loss for words; a rare occurrence on any normal day. “I guess-- Actually yeah, are there drinks? I’m way too sober for this shit,” maybe he could stall for a bit, though a drink also didn’t sound like a bad idea either right now. “Honestly, I’d kill for a cocktail before I kick the bucket… It’s a personal nightmare to go out stone cold sober ‘cause that’s absolutely not what my life’s about.”

“Drinks?” Deirdre glanced around, regarding the fae in attendance. “Did we bring drinks?” The fae murmured to each other, pixies fluttered about until a leprechaun hobbled forward, offering solem clicks and whistles of disappointment. She turned to Otto. “No drinks.” Which was suddenly very unfortunate, because she was craving some too. “But I like your spirit, Otto! Is that all the last words you have to offer? Usually the humans start begging now. They tell me all about how much money they can offer, about any children or lovers. They get very desperate, I love to see it on their faces.” She turned to Otto, smiling. He seemed...okay, strangely enough. Not that Deirdre was any expert on reading human’s facial expressions, they all looked mostly the same, and were too ugly to pay attention to. But this man, fun and carefree, gave her no sobbing or begging. Suddenly, she boiled with anger. “BEG FOR YOUR LIFE!” She threw her toaster down at his feet, snarling. “GIVE US ENTERTAINMENT! You think this is a game, human? I gathered my friends here to watch something good, and your smart quips are getting us—“ a Leprechaun whistles at her. Deirdre snapped around. He swished a half-empty bottle of wine. “Never mind, I’m being informed we do have some drinks.” She took the bottle and offered it to Otto. “Here, now you can die slightly tipsy.”

“Oh come on,” he protested at the shakes of multiple little heads in every direction “I thought this was meant to be a celebration of your totalitarian toaster termination techniques on full unadulterated display… That you guys knew how to party.” The clarification that normally this was the point people started begging for their lives was met with a twist of his mouth and mildly distasteful look. “Well, I mean I can’t really do that because I don’t have any of those things. Kids suck they’re so whiny and really who has the commitment for a partner when people just end up letting you down in the end, you know?” he glanced at a wizened old leprechaun who seemed to mull on this statement and nod in agreement before taking a puff on his pipe “see? This dude, he gets it.” It’s so much effort for so little reward.” Perhaps now was not the time for philosophical questioning but it was what came to mind. - if it’s a time for confession guess there’s no better time to say thanks for the motorcycle I conned you into buying for me. Really was swell of you.” But any further smartass remarks were put on hold as he dodged the toaster lobbed in his general direction and found his knees giving out as he threw himself on the floor against his will. “No- NO PLEASE!” tears welled unbidden to his eyes as he clasped at Deirdre’s boots the sobs rising against his will “I’LL DO ANYTHING, I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! PLEASE JUST-- DON’T KILL ME! IT’S NOT A GAME! I SWEAR. PLEASE I-” he hiccuped, swallowing air “ Pleasepleaseplease.” The sobbing at her feet continued despite the profference of booze for the command to stop had not yet been given.

Deirdre frowned as Otto spoke, she reached a hand out to lay gingerly on his shoulder. “Otto...are you sad and lonely?” The fae looked at her pointedly. She flushed and withdrew both her concern and her hand, but thought to elaborate. “Having a partner is great. I love my girlfriend. I don’t believe people let you down always, sometimes they surprise you.” The leprechaun clicked his disagreement, and Deirdre waved the conversation away. “You conned me into buying you a motorcycle?” She thought about it, and expected anger or pride to come to her. Anger for the audacity of a human to think to trick her, and pride that her subordinate had tried at all. Mostly she was just...disappointed. “Why didn’t you con me out of more than just a motorcycle?” She asked, “I mean, I have the money to give you more. What’s a motorcycle worth? Like a measly few thousand dollars?” It was good then, that he started to beg, and her mood lifted. “Yes, you pathetic urchin.” She hissed and snapped her feet away from him. “I think we’re good to begin now, don’t you?” She smiled and turned to her fellow fae, careful to keep herself out of the ring again. “Stop your begging and be quiet, Otto. Now it’s time--” The pixies struggled to play their flute, leaving the air with a discordant whittling that stung Deirdre’s ears. A leprechaun banged his toaster to create a drum beat, as horrible as it was earnest. Deirdre hissed again and picked Otto off the floor and shoved him into the circle. “Go impale yourself on the tree branch there.” She pointed at the one that had been sharpened for this purpose. “Take your time though, I do like a slow death. And you may do whatever you like before you’re impaled, so long as you stay in the circle, and it doesn’t take too long.” She waved her hand in the air. “Or if I find it boring.”

Otto’s eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, well and truly laughed deeply at the notion. “Oh hells, me? Lonely? No. Lonely’s pathetic, I’m definitely not pathetic.” But then again, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder. Would anyone ever notice? Would Mercy, Cece or anyone else in his rather truncated list of acquaintances even bother to come out and look for him? “Sure did, was fun watching you bend over backwards to save your friend’s face. Can’t say it worked but it was fun to watch either way.”

But then the wet mud was soaking into his knees, immaculate nails clawing for purchase on Deirdre’s shoe that soon retracted leaving him falling facefirst into a pile of moss. As the urge to beg rescinded, he lay there for a moment gathering what little remained of his dignity and pushed himself up to his feet. Spotting the leprechaun nearby about to drain the wine he snatched the bottle out of its tiny hands and gulped it down, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Deirdre was speaking again though and the horrible irony of everything he’d been told dawned on him.

You’re not dead.

It was this thought that drifted through his mind as Otto walked with purposeful steps towards the sharpened bark. A haze of strange determination silencing all questions or thoughts that this was wrong. That he needed to run. No matter how much his mind screamed, rending itself apart.

The sharpened tip pierced the soft flesh of his abdomen, a slow progression as steps faltered and blood began to trickle in a cascade, staining the front of his shirt. A second and third followed, and as the crimson rivulets flowed their course twin tears glistened in hazel eyes. The dawning revelation of a truth Otto had always denied.

Perhaps he was lonely indeed.

Too late to do anything about it now though.

Delight spread across the fae like wildfire, infectious and brighter the longer it burned. Deirdre watched curiously. She waited for the same delight to reach her. And she waited. And she watched, and she waited. And yet, the only feeling that entered her as she watched Otto impale himself was something cold, and then sharp; something she wouldn’t dare put a name to. Emma’s eyes flashed in her mind, the look of desperation that gleamed there, and the hope that sat on her lips that Deirdre might free her. She couldn’t see Otto’s face now, and she felt all the better for it. “Stop,” she told him, “stop that. S-stop doing that.” Her command was barely a whisper above the din of celebration, fae poured into the circle, ready to party--dancing progressed around Otto’s limp body, and the music grew louder and further away from any pleasurable tune. The mushroom drums in her own head grew silent, and she left to watch the fae as an outsider to their delight. Once, she had been a child peeking from behind old trees, watching the fae with their wings and wondering when it would be her turn to be like them. The feeling she had chased for so long fluttered around her, it was cheered on by the congratulatory clicks and whistles of the leprechauns, but it could not find her heart. An organ she had long since suspected she’d lost sometime ago, some many deaths before.

She turned her back to Otto, to the mushrooms and fae surrounding him, and she walked. “I want to be good,” she told the trees as she stumbled around them. “I want to be good.” She willed the feeling to reach her. She willed herself to feel anything at all. But where she fell to the ground, staring at her unstained hands, she found nothing.

Nothing inside of her.

Eventually Otto reached a point that his feet could no longer find purchase enough to continue walking. Or perhaps it was simply the gradual weakening that came with the blood-loss. Blood-loss that left him feeling cold and tired. Tired in a way that was bone deep. There was no method to question on his lips to implore them to stop and let him go so that he might live his life. The feelings that swirled in his chest were those of anguish and an aching loneliness for which words were inadequate to describe. Loneliness he'd laughed so heartily at not five minutes prior. So maybe Deirdre was right. Perhaps he was… But too little too late.

I thought this was meant to hurt less. It always sounded like it would hurt less .

Where the voice in his mind came from he couldn’t rightly say. No warm embrace, no bright light or whatever the hell you were meant to get if this truly was the end. Just empty darkness. Even as he reached for his magic, gone since that night at the bar. Just an echo, but that’s all he was now wasn’t he? An echo of what he should’ve been. The breath rattled in his throat, life slipping away in the trickle of his lifesblood as the cold grasp of darkness coiled tighter around him; his life served forth by fate's own servant to the overture of cheerful clicks and whistles.

Perhaps someone will remember me.

#p: deirdre #all good things end #para

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of-muppets-and-men · 5 years ago

Text

Penumbra

Chapter 6: Nightfall

New Chapter is here, bit late but here. Link here if you prefer AO3.

“...With the Soul King as my witness, I pronounce thee Husband and Wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The voices of a thousand souls cheered to the high heavens. Captains, lieutenants and beyond.

Ichigo gazed upon his wife, awestruck by her radiance. All the while, their friends from far and wide had come to share in their happiness. He leaned down to better meet his wife’s tiny frame, caressing it in his arms. Ichigo’s beloved bride met his affection with her own, intertwining her arms around his neck. Her eyes glimmered like the moon, deep violet stealing his breath away. Before he knew, Ichigo’s eyes had begun to water.

“Hey… What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing…” Ichigo said dismissively, “I love you, Rukia.”

“Hmph, Fool.” Rukia giggled, “I love you, too Ichigo.”

The love of his life’s lips were mere inches from his own, a moment he’d waited a small eternity for. How could this moment possibly get any better?

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo shot up in his bed, heart a flutter and breaths heavy; an alarm clocking making its duty known. His dreary eyes scanned the desolate room around him, growing more disappointed by the second. Everything he saw, he recognized all too well. The bland drapes, the lamp, Orihime’s vanity; Not to mention the ugly duvet cover she’d bought when she moved in. All the pieces fit; Ichigo was home… Or at least in the real world. The young man sighed and mumbled under his breath, wishing he’d never woken up.

“God damnit… Another one?”

A gentle slam and the alarm ceased all noise, prompting Ichigo to make ready for another day in the clinic. A slow shamble into the bathroom, and Ichigo found his reflection staring back at him. So much had changed, most notably himself; his spark growing dimmer and dimmer as days past. The licensed doctor brushed his teeth, his unmotivated stare unwavering before the stranger in front of him.

Gargle, spit, rinse. Same old rut.

Freshening up out of the way, the young man made his way to see what concoction Orihime had made this time. But, he couldn’t help but stop in front of the closet. Ichigo stared at it longingly, his hand half-cocked and reaching for the handle. What am I doing, he argued with himself. There was no way she’d be in there… but it didn’t stop him from trying.

Slowly, the door slid open and he’d been right. Nothing. Nothing except for extra sheets and a spare futon. Pointless but still… it would have been nice.

Ichigo quietly slipped past his son’s room, Kazui still fast asleep. Good grief, waking up at 6 in the morning sucked. It was about halfway down the stairs, however, when the smell hit him. Sweet? Spicy? Burnt? What was Wife doing down there? Cautiously, Ichigo made his way into the kitchen, step by step, the smell singeing his nostrils. He peeked his head inside, his brow more furrowed than it had ever been to see Orihime behind the stove; Apron on and chopsticks in hand.

“What on earth are you making?” Ichigo probed, nose crinkled.

His wife whipped around in joy, “Oh morning, Ichigo! I’m making Okonomiyaki!”

Her husband moved beside her to inspect the pan, “What’s in it?”

“Oh just some honey, chili flakes, onion, eggplant, red bean paste and calamari.”

“Sounds Lovely…” Ichigo winced in horror at the bizarre combination while Orihime beamed with pride.

But given his wife would likely never change, he shook his head and planted himself at the dining table. Pulling out his phone, Ichigo sifted through his messages, double checking for pre-scheduled appointments. Fortunately, it was only a handful of routine health check-ups from around the neighbourhood. While her husband attended to his business, Orihime became unusually sullen while breakfast continued to simmer.

“You mumble a lot in your sleep…” She remarked, just loud enough for him to hear.

Confused, Ichigo answered with a question, “I do?”

“Mhmm...” Orihime replied, not turning around to face him.

Silence enveloped their quaint little kitchen. Ichigo stared woefully at Orihime, her typical spunk replaced by weariness. As she plated his Okonomiyaki, Ichigo’s gaze shifted back to his phone, fiddling through the apps and emails. He knew all too well what she was implying. But the problem was, would they ever address it?

After the Quincy war ended, their marriage felt like more of a courtesy than anything else. Something to fill the void following such a bloody conflict. One that threatened the very fabric of existence. How could anyone feel normal again? But nothing on Ichigo’s end felt genuine. He did care about Orihime and loved their son as much as any father should. But it wasn’t the same; a fact they both subconsciously knew.

Without so much as a word, Orihime placed breakfast in front of her husband, garnishing it with bonito and seaweed flakes. It smelled odd, but looked edible enough. If only Yuzu hadn’t moved out.

“Thanks for the meal, Hon.” Ichigo said tentatively, before grabbing his chopsticks.

“You’re very welcome.” she smiled, “Would you like some coffee to go with it?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not, silly.” Orihime replied jovially, before giving him a peck on the forehead.

Ichigo watched his wife saunter back behind the kitchen counter, fetching the things she needed. While she fiddled in and out of the cupboards, Ichigo attempted to sample her cooking. Crunchy, tangy and little too sweet for his liking, but otherwise not as bad as he initially thought. He struggled to finish it, but soldiered on if only to spare Orihime’s feelings. His wife came back to the table, two mugs in hand. She handed him his and took the adjacent seat.

“One Cream, One Sugar. Just the way you like it.” Orihime bubbled.

“Thanks.”

She gave him a smile in return before blessing her breakfast, “Thanks for the meal. Oh, should I wake up Kazui?

“Nah, it’s Sunday. Let him sleep in.” Ichigo chided, “Plus, it’s not like he has anything better to do other than annoy Kisuke and the others.”

A chuckle from Ichigo matched a giggle from Orihime. Their boy was undoubtedly a little rascal, but they loved him nonetheless. He may have very well been the sole reason his parents hadn’t divorced yet. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that; the clinic was opening in an hour. The pair finished breakfast and washed the dishes together before Ichigo went on to do his routine check-ups around the clinic. Ichigo lamented on how mundane his life had become. His lingering youth missed the rush of fighting, of killing hollows. Foolish as it may have been to want conflict, he couldn’t help but miss the old days.

If only the others were around… If only she were here.

Meanwhile...

“My Zanpakuto?”

“Yes, child. Now if you want to walk the path of a Shinigami, you must recite my name.”

Katsumi became entranced in the woman’s voice, as if she were flowing down a calm river caressed in the warmth of the sun. But at the same time, she was confused. Her mother had never mentioned anything like this. Did everyone experience something like this? Did all zanpakuto have a person-like form? What the hell was going on?

Meanwhile, her zanpakuto’s spirit waited patiently at arm’s length. She tilted her head and smiled lovingly at Katsumi. As if reading the girl’s mind, her zanpakuto sought to ease her racing mind.

“Take your time. It’s overwhelming for everyone at first.”

Katsumi’s eyes brightened a touch. Little did she know her blade was one of the more kind and polite ones. But the young soul still had much she wished to know.

“But how will I know your name if you don’t tell me?” the girl asked curiously.

“I am you and you are me. I believe your mother told you that we zanpakuto are extensions of the soul. Therefore, I do not need to tell you because you should already know…” Her blade lectured, “Here, maybe this will help.”

Her zanpakuto pointed the blade she’d been carrying in Katsumi’s direction, hilt waiting for Katsumi’s grip. Tentatively, the girl took the sword, unsheathing it in all its glory. It shocked Katsumi to feel its weight or lack thereof. It was practically weightless despite its impressive appearance; feeling so natural in her palms. The girl gasped and marvelled; a zanpakuto that was well and truly her own. The spirit knelt beside, smiling at her delight. Katsumi, brimming with excitement, chopped with her blade and then raised it single-handedly into the air, roaring in victory. Her zanpakuto hadn’t stopped smiling, placing her hands over Katsumi’s.

“I look forward to the battles before us, for my name is…”

“...Tōgetsu” Katsumi breathed confidently.

Mere seconds after Katsumi recited her zanpakuto’s name, the beautiful scenery around them began to collapse. Naturally, the girl began to panic. The river drained into the void, the bridge crumbled into dust and the grass around her faded and wisped into ash. For the first time in this world, she felt afraid. She wanted to cry, wanted her mother to help her, but once more Tōgetsu eased her fears.

“Don’t worry. You’re just waking up, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Her zanpakuto soothed while rubbing her back.

“But there is something you must know. My power grows and shrinks depending on your fears. Become too afraid and I will shatter like glass, but should you stand your ground and fight, we’ll be invincible. Remember this always.”

Tōgetsu cupped Katsumi’s cheek; a touch that felt so much like her mother’s. Her whimpers turned to giggles as she relished in the embrace.

“Do you promise to remember?” Tōgetsu asked.

“I promise.” Katsumi said with conviction.

“Good. Till we meet again, little one.”

The two shared one last hug as darkness swallowed them both. The last thing Katsumi could see being Tōgetsu’s smile. It’s warmth caressing her into the light of the morning.

“KATSUMI!! KATSUMI, WAKE UP!!!” a voice frantically called out to her.

The aforementioned girl opened her eyes to see her mother clutching her shoulders. She was standing on her bed for some reason with something in her hand; her knuckles had gone white from gripping it so tightly. Katsumi looked down to see her sword, only it wasn’t. It was bigger now, far bigger than a normal blade. It’s blade had become large and vaguely sickle-like. More strangely it was hollow in the middle, save for metal bands lining the inside. Still dazed from waking up moments before she looked back into her mother’s eyes for comfort.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“Shikai…” was all she said in return, equal parts shocked and amazed.

“What?” Katsumi replied, puzzled by the word.

“It’s nothing. You were releasing spirit pressure like crazy so I thought something was wrong.” Yoruichi explained.

In an instant, the blade shrinked back to normal, confusing Katsumi yet again. How did zanpakuto grow like that? And what on earth was ‘Shikai’? The girl desperately looked for answers in Yoruichi’s golden eyes but her mother said only one thing.

“I guess we’re starting your training sooner than I thought.”

#Bleach #bleach oc #ichiruki #pro ichiruki #Ichigo X Rukia #rukia x ichigo #Rukia Kuchiki #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #yoruichi shihouin #katsumi kurosaki #Penumbra

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maxbradley · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Even

I can't stay here. I can't take any more of this imprisonment. I need to get out. Blindly I splash a glob of red ink onto the stretched canvas. Hot air escapes my quivering lips. I can barely breathe. I find myself searching for that box again… There's got to be something better tasting than this crap. I open a gilded window to let the thin trails slither out from my lit torch. Only when I can think clearly again I look back into the depths of my private studio. Well, actually, it's my bedroom. My dad's refused to set aside one of the countless rooms in the house for my only source of pleasure in this strange world. I take a deep token before coughing again; I keep on smoking to ease the mental tension, "I want to get out." This is only wishful thinking. I've always thought about running away, but then… I look at the stretched canvas again, running fingers across my mother's hair, deep red. I prop my hand's tips to the background and prod continuously and haphazardly to create blossoms on the leave's green. Wiping the ink away, cigarette still in my mouth, I take up a brush and dip it into oil paint, watching it create wild blue streaks around her, above her for the sky… A dove in her palm takes on a definitive look. I fight myself from changing her into an angel, wings and halo and everything. She needs to be alive.

With the color still drying I place the half finished work next to a raven, the yellow of its eyes staring me down. I try not to trip over a small stack of blank paper and pens on the floor, backing away to observe the rest. A myriad of senseless patterns and shapes and many hues overwhelms me. Yet, here in the isolation of my own little world, I'm home, away from Home. I can't just leave my art here! … I need more paint. "Master Bradley?" "Don't call me that, Yoli!" putting out the light against the window sill and striding across the hardwood floor to reach the door. I open it and poke my shagged hair out, "Something wrong?" It's a shame that my father would take this wonderful, exotic woman and reduce her to nothing more than a servant out of many in this estate. The afternoon sun glistened on dark mahogany braids and shone on her deep tan complexion. I barely paid attention to the direction of the corners of her bright red lips, "Bradley! You been smoking again??" She smelled the tobacco on me and within my room. No use trying to hide anything from her. Yolanda knows about life far more than I ever will. "Yes m'am." I about scoffed at my sad attempt at formality, "He doesn't care what I do." Her face nearly fell, "Don't say that, mi'jito." She places her sweaty palms to my face. I just realized I'm about her height now. "I'm sure he loves you very much. He just can't show it well." … You've got to be kidding me... I feign a smile. "Can you bring your dirty clothes to the laundry room for me?" She never buys it. Sometimes I wish she could. I need to work on my acting skills. ----- I force a part of my head through the iron gate and play "jail time" with my hands gripping the bars. You think I'm playing? Getting out is not as easy as asking, "Hey Dad—can you let me out? I wanna go somewhere." It's harder when you've developed the inability to make close friends that can bail you out. Whatever they spin about my dad, whatever wealth he might have—how famous he is among those big company names—I don't care. Not about what he has. Not what he is, either. I let go of the bars and whisk my way back to the mansion. My personal Alcatraz. What I wouldn't give to visit that place; we're all the way on the East Coast. New England. The place itself, where I live (unfortunately), is rather secluded. Walled in, whitewashed concrete slabs covered with ivy like an infestation. Nothing but trees with fallen leaves—a meadow practically—for a good 5 miles all around. It would be easy to follow the paved road to civilization… My dad would freak. He always wants me home, besides time away at school. His excuse? "I won't lose you like I lost your mother." I'm smiling now, peering up at the cotton clouds, shot with the brightest pink imaginable. It was almost nauseating, had it not been for the warm orange ribbons leaving their marks as well. Yeah; good plan, Dad. I don't want anything to do with you. A small breeze brushes my hair; it's in my eyes, "pfft!" … It's gotten chilly. I can't be back in there. Not now. I finally spot a foreign car parked next to our own on the opposite side of the gate… Not back there. ----- "Why are you here again?" That wasn't actually said; it was just thought out loud. A buxom woman settled in a seat a far ways next to me, I shuffling farther away. She let out a tiny pout before trying to get on my good side again, "Please, Bradley—let me get to know you this time;" I pull my hand away from hers, burning holes into her being with a leer— "You know me very well. I don't want you here!" This faceless lady flushed like the rest of them before distancing away, just in time for the host's entrance. "Is my son giving you any trouble??" I turn away from his stern face. "Not at all" she giggled. Makes me want to— Calloused, rough hands run through my hair. I can't tell whether he wants to harm me or comfort me, "Bradley. Pay your respects— One of the servants rolled in with the dinner cart and gave me a knowing look. I can't look my father in those soiled, mossy eyes. I bite my lip. "She's our guest." ". . . Yes, Sir." My appetite was long gone. My energies were spent on this lady. It was obvious she wanted to gain his intimate trust. "Business meeting" or not, she was a flirt. "Elaine" needs to get out of this house now, before she gets any ideas. Any attempts to reach me were answered by my cold shoulder. I'd only talk to her openly if he happened to be there at the table with us. I could see Elaine getting annoyed with me now. Finally; she should be going home … It was now a quarter past ten—long after our mundane meal. I've been spying on them ever since they left the dining room, after helping out wash some of the dishes (there was little else to do). What could my dad see in her? What chance could she have to be a replacement for— True to his word, they were talking about the adult world of business and nothing else, sharing their third glass of wine together. While wondering how he could ever control his drinking in front of his guests, it was time for this Elaine to leave. But not without a goodbye kiss. He returned it on the cheek before leading her out the door and into the yard; I stayed behind. To see what they might be doing now would be devastating. "Bradley?" Yoli startled me, "Why aren't you in bed?" "I don't have curfew." My baggy eyes weren't helping my cause. "Tomorrow's a school day, young man." ----- The light's still on in my room; I can't sleep. I felt a need to continue the painting of my mother. My angel. The reason why I exist! … There was no right to take her away so soon. If she had been there longer, "things could have gone differently." I had forgotten to check the time on my red digit analog clock. "Kid." My skin crawled when he opened the door. It was far too late to hide away my work, which my dad caught sight of. Clearing his throat, "She told me how rude you were being, Son." This was typical of most women. With their sweet deceitful wiles. It made me sick.

Alphonse Uppercrust is only a foot away from my perch on the stool. He strode past by me and felt around my open window, "What's this??" I continue dabbing the color back into Lillian's face. The gilded pane is shut just in time, "What are you doing?" "Painting." He grabs my collar to force eye contact—"No, kid." holding the discarded torch in front of my face, "Where'd the hell did you get this? At school?? On the street." My face is stone; I dare not say a word just yet... "Was it from one of them?" "You got a lot of nerve, Dad—bunching up your servants with criminals." He nearly threw me off the seat; I made it much easier on him and landed on my feet. He was right; a servant did sneak it to me, but only with a hefty bribe attached. We are filthy rich, after all. "You," he breathed, "have a lot of nerve to be talking back to me, Bradley Uppercrust. Don't forget where you came from, and don't forget who you're destined to become—I had to laugh at this new scrap of a monologue— "I came from Hell, and I'm destined to become another You? Not a chance—What now?? You're going to hit me again after 3 accident-free years?!" Dad was livid, hand raised and my back against the wall. The sight of my art to my left assured me that everything was going to be all right. I'm just glad he was still relatively sober for those moments. "… Son, I'm trying." No pity from me this time. "I really am." The hand goes down on my shoulder where he keeps a strong grip, "I'm not doing that anymore, the affairs. Don't worry. I've learned to control my fleeting emotions— Except when you're drunk—"Are you ever going to forgive me?" My neck still craned to see past his façade; I'm trying to see past the reddened eyes and the watering of his sockets—"No, Dad. Never." I wrench myself away from the wall and, out of personal rebellion, I fish out that box of independence, imagined freedom… 3 years of not hitting me when he's sober. That's a good record. I'm sure he felt bad after… I could see the dejectedness in his whole frame as I continued breathing in toxins, "What? You drink. I smoke. It's only fair." Immediately he resumed composure; weakness is not an option in this household if you want to survive for 16 years. "Know what, kid? I understand what you want now. You want to follow what the outside world has to offer. The common folk? I'll tell them to unlock the gate. You can get out of this house whenever you'd like. No restrictions. No curfew—I'll let you live your own life!" I've kicked off my shoes and sat in my bed, close to the backboard. My eyes and ears are open wide to this titillating information— "You've proven that you're so mature now. Let's all hope you make the best of it!!" The slamming of the door shocks the hallway. I'm puffing out rings and singing a little tune to celebrate a premature victory.

#bradley uppercrust #an extremely goofy movie #disney #fanfiction #headcanon #family #background info #prelude #family drama #teenager #bradley uppercrust iii

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kinkymagnus · 5 years ago

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hmm let's talk more about twi Malec, like there's just so many endless possibilities

any specifics? no? just kidding, you can’t respond, this is an ask! okay, i’m just gonna throw some random twi malec shit out here then

twi magnus…..hes soft. but also. i feel like since he’s got more Repression™ than canon magnus he’s like WAY WILDER.

canon magnus a few months into them boning: hey alexander wanna tie me up? ;)

twi magnus a few months into them boning: hey so i have potion that will give you magical tentacles to tie me up and fuck me with?

(obviously this isn’t just out of nowhere or anything but im saying while they’re both kinky twi magnus is surprisingly a little more shameless when it comes to sex things.)

twi alec. is HORNY. so horny. canon alec? pretty horny. twi alec? MAXIMUM HORNY. good thing, too, because twi magnus hasn’t been fucked in a few centuries and that has BUILT UP.

they bone a LOT

also imagine: twi alec and shitty one-liners/pick-up lines and bad jokes

twi alec says, completely deadpan, “want me to take you to the Bone Zone?” and twi magnus first is like “i am, frankly, horrified and disgusted” but can’t stop himself from laughing (especially once alec is laughing at the cute little face he makes with the scrunchy nose, and it’s so contagious magnus can’t help but laugh too)

i have a line in one of my twi fics where magnus basically says something like (jokingly/playfully!) “you’re pretty full of yourself, huh?” and alec responds “how you’d like to be full of me, too?” and magnus giggles and it’s ADORABLE AND THAT LINE IS JUST SO FUCKING TWI MALEC TO ME OKAY?

also twi magnus is not innocent of pun crimes. no magnus is innocent of pun crimes.

twi magnus: [makes a cute bad pun] [wiggles eyebrow a bit]

twi alec: that was terrible. that was a real stinker. what the fuck.

twi magnus, every goddamn time: gonna PUNish me? ;D

twi alec can and will cook breakfast in bed for his boyfriend

magnus, sleepily blinking: hng?

alec, with pancakes and eggs and bacon and freshly squeezed orange juice: hey babe :) decided to surprise you :) it’s “i love my boyfriend” day

magnus, still half asleep: ufck did iforget something i dont have anytihnf oryoutgfckkk

alec: oh no babe “i love my boyfriend” day is every day because i always lvoe you and i just decided to do something nice for you :)

magnus: did the dream about wearing acid washed jeans keep you up again?

alec, shuddering: they’re so ugly

okay but seriously he’d totally just be sappy and make magnus breakfast and stuff

and magnus is like “i can make u a sweet dreams potion?”

MAGIC REVEAL does not get TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH. STILL.

possibility one: alec walks in on magnus making a bunch of chores do themselves fantasia style and is like. uh. what the FUCK. and all the dishes drop to the floor and magnus honestly looks so SCARED that alec’s heart breaks a little even tho he’s also trying to process how confused he is and magnus stutters out something about not being a monster and may or not may not be descending into a panic attack because he’d been so careful for so long not to reveal the truth to ANYONE, only like three people know who and what he is that he actually talks to in the world and a mundane finding out is not good much less his wonderful boyfriend who’ll LEAVE HIM and HATE HIM and he’s–he’s–and alec’s like. oh fuck that. and hugs him like hey it’s okay i’m really confused and i hope you explain later but you could literally never be a monster, especially not for floating some dishes,

possibility two: magnus, scared shitless, tells him, but alec always knew. i love this shit. alec’s just like “babe. babe you weren’t subtle.” because magnus has got a lot of really powerful magic and he’s only jst learning to control it again and it’s waking up, like having a foot that’s been asleep for a long time waking up except if the foot changed the color of the wallpaper when it sneezed and glowed when it was happy. this metaphor broke down. you get the idea.

there are more possibilities but im tired

ok but when magnus’s magic is revealed. magnus is like. 1. ecstatic to give alec lots of little magical gifts like a little enchanted pendant with protective charms and a magic candy (like a chocolate frog, just a fun little thing that would make him laugh) and the sweet dreams potion and so on. 2. kind of expecting like. he’s more than willing to give, but he kind of lowkey expects alec to like. expect it. to expect magical solutions to his problems. magnus can do the dishes with a wave of his hand, he kind of expects to do the dishes every time now that alec knows he can do that. but alec’s like “what are you doing” “…magic? we’ve gone over this” “yeah but it’s my turn” and magnus is like “i can just do it with a wave of my hand” and alec’s like “you think i dont notice how you collapse in my arms for cuddling and end up dozing off every time? it takes energy. and even if it didn’t we still share the workload even if you can do something easier you don’t have to do everything for me” and magnus is lik,,e,,e,,e,e??? oh.

like alec appreciates him and is so loving and wonderful and thankful for things magnus does give him but he doesn’t let magnus indulge in the tendency to put everyone else first and take on all the work? he doesn’t take magnus’s magic for granted?

it’s great

nsfw detour!!!

twi magnus gets RAWED

u kno how i said that twi magnus is horny and wild? and also lonely and has not had a good hard fuck in possibly over a century?

magnus has an extensive toy collection.

many, many dildos and vibrators. nipple clamps, magic toys that can fuck him or tie him up… and it’s like all different sizes, types, materials, uses… some costumes and stuff that he bought for himself because they make him feel good/pretty but he doesn’t wear that often because it feels shameful or weird to do by himself.

alec definitely teases him senseless. ties him up and presses the vibrator to his clit until he’s crying, rolling it around and applying pressure and then taking it away again, stimulating his whole clit without mercy

or those. i dont know what they’re called, they suck (literally, not as in “this is bad/this sucks”) and make ur clit/nipples get swollen and sensitive? yes.

fuck his pussy AND ass with various dildos and toys of different sizes and shapes :))

sometimes at the same time :)))))

y’all alec recording him or taking pictures. making him feel so deliciously exposed and watched. amazing and iconic

also: public sex. twi malec can have fun too

it’s not right away, i feel like twi magnus would be more into things like overstimulation and getting recorded than being fucked in front of people. he still loves the latter, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more canon magnus’s thing? he’s more used to like… showing off ;)

but when magnus does feel confident enough to try that (baby steps–alec groping/teasing him in public, maybe fooling around in a vip booth at pandemonium or its equivalent, until he’s ready to be fucked properly and god once he is, once he lets go, it’s so amazing

he’s used to hiding, hiding under layers both literal and metaphorical, and here he is totally exposed and vulnerable but 1. he’s being taken care of and he’s safe and alec is just making him feel so good, kind of like, forcing himself to express how good he feels and not hide it, making him scream and cry and beg and love it, 2. he’s just? being admired? worshiped? there is nothing demeaning about this, it couldn’t be further from it, he’s exposed and people are fucking basking in it. he looks beautiful, he looks goddamn stunning, he looks fucking amazing and everyone wants to watch and touch and alec’s there holding him and loving him,,, aAAHHh

twi alec becomes immortal, no one can change my mind.

twi magnus: i love you but……i’m…i’m immortal

twi alec: oh. that…. ok.twi magnus, sad: it’s okay… i understand if you want to l–twi alec: become immortal to be with you? oh good i know it’s kind of a dedication considering i haven’t even proposed to you yet–twi magnus: yet? wait-

obviously twi alec doesn’t just completely jump into this with no consideration but look. look. he loves magnus so much, and anyway, it’s not like immortality doesn’t hold any appeal for him anyway. yeah, he knows it’s harder than it sounds, but like, there’s so much potential in things he could learn and do and see, and he could do it all WITH THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE. he could NOT leave him behind when he’s been left so many times before. he has hesitations, but like, in the end he chooses immortality and he doesn’t ever regret it

it’s like that stardust quote. “ I imagine [immortality] would be kind of lonely. Well, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you loved. Then it might be different.” LDKJFLKGJHG YEAH BITCH THAT’S MALEC

also angst: magnus is like. at first. actually against the idea. and alec’s kinda like. hurt/confused/upset. and then magnus explains that if alec’s mortal, magnus will lose him to death–maybe sooner if alec leaves him, but it’s like a letting go thing, it’s inevitable. but if he’s immortal? all of magnus’s immortal lovers… they get tired of him. they get bored. they get annoyed. they stay with him, maybe they’re even in love, for a few years, or if he’s lucky, decades. but eventually they always leave. they drift apart first, they might suggest seeing other people. but they always leave. if alec’s mortal, his leaving is inevitable even tho it will break magnus’s heart. if he’s immortal, then it will inevitably be a choice, and it will shatter him all the more.

of course, magnus wouldn’t stop him even if he was very staunchly against it, it’s alec’s life, but like. he’s worried.

and worse, it’s not just that, but like. once alec grows tired of him, because he will, everyone does, once alec decides he made the wrong choice… he can’t take it back. if it’s soon enough, all his friends and family will be old, and he’ll be forever young, even if he is able to become mortal again it won’t be the same. and if it’s later, they’ll all be dead. magnus doesn’t doubt his ability to make new friends, of course, but the idea of alec regretting his choice, leaving him and being alone or feeling alone, of alec being out in the world lasting forever because of him, cursed with that same lonely immortality magnus has? that thought hurts more than anything, causing alec his type of pain.

so alec is like. no. NO. what the fuck i’m not. i’m not going to grow SICK of you, i’d never be tired of you, or–bored? REALLY? of you? what the fuck. your past lovers suck.

to be clear not every single one of magnus’s exes suck, but they all did leave him in some shape way or form, or else they wouldn’t be exes. you feel. i mean, he’s still friends with dot but it’s been centuries and we dont know what happened between then and now? idk man let me have that angst ok

eventually alec can convince magnus that he’s not leaving and he loves magnus and it’s okay but that little doubt niggles at the back of his head you know?

on their hundred year anniversary alec kisses him senseless and says “still not bored of you”

same with every other anniversary, but especially the big century ones

they don’t ever break up. they have fights, some worse than others, it’s not perfect, but they always find their way back to each other and communicate and mend their wounds

twi malec cuddling during thunderstorms, thank you.

magnus curled in alec’s arms, face buried in his shoulder

alec’s arms around him

yes

ok but look. twi alec being social media savvy.

(note: i have never used instagram and i am MAKING SHIT UP.)

alec with an instagram. he’s out here taking pictures of his sweet adorable boyfriend. he’s got a decent number of followers but it goes up a LOT when he starts dating magnus because holy shit who’s this cutie? and then someone finds those god-awful cringey commercials that i still insist magnus made on a dare he lost PLEASE he’s a dork but REALLY?, and they’re like WAIT THIS IS THAT PSYCHIC GUY FROM THE MEME COMMERCIAL WOW HE’S DORKY CUTE AND HOT? and magnus is like (hides face) oh my god

why does this make me think of a twi malec youtuber au–no no no NOT RIGHT NOW

#trans magnus smut #twi malec #twi

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peachfyzzy · 5 years ago

Text

mingling with the baddest pt 1 (leone abbacchio x reader +18)

Hey loves! I figured I’d do something special! I’m planning to make this a short multi-chapter fic! I hope you all enjoy, and as always…

nsfw under the cut

You patiently and diligently dried the spotless glass cups that were laid out in front of you. Part of you wanted to tear off your smock, hair net, and gloves and run as far as you could from the trashy little diner, but you had other priorities. Were you happy that you had to pick up another job to support yourself and family?

Absolutely not.

But would you bear it for the sake of them and yourself?

Absolutely so.

So, there you sat, drying and shelving dishes, until… “Y/N.” Your boss’s voice echoed in the bustling restaurant kitchen. You turned to attention, putting on your best ‘I don’t wanna strangle someone’ smile.

“Yes, sir?”

“Put down the dishes. We need help out serving.” Without so much as another glance, he walked away into the busyness of the staff room. With a sigh, you took off your gloves and headed outside to take orders. You hated working as a waitress. Not only was washing dishes gross, but the customers were rude and demanding. Still, you took it in stride with your chin held high. After a few points from the greeter, you found yourself serving a small table. You almost let out a gasp when you saw them. This diner was notorious for mafia activity and outbursts of anger. Yet, sitting and smiling in front of you, was a gaggle of cops. It was shocking to you- almost jarring. Amongst the shouting, rowdy, and rough mafia members occupying the space tonight…was a group of pristine, beaming cops. You didn’t realize you were staring until one spoke up.

“Uh, Miss?” He was handsome- almost impossibly so. Strands of pale hair stuck out from where he tucked it in. You jumped a bit, snapping out of your peaceful daydream. You once again, put on your customer service smile.

“What’ll it be, boys?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You took in the comforting silence of your closed workplace. It was almost midnight, and the last few patrons had just left and sprung out into the beautifully painted night. With a certain kind of tired reverie, you tore off your work clothes and prepared for the car ride home. As you took one look into the dark abyss of the closed establishment, your heart began to race. You learned that the man’s name was Leone. He was fresh out of high school, as were you, and he was taking a break from patrolling that night with his buddies. No matter where you were in the restaurant, you felt his eyes skim over you, almost unashamed. You didn’t mind the attention of course and made sure to swing your hips a bit more as you walked past. Pucker your lips a little more as you spoke. Add more of a lithe to your voice when saying his name. It was all casual fun, and seeing as cops were such a rare sight, you enjoyed the attention. Nothing too serious, right?

You’d be surprised.

You drove home, letting the cool Naples’ breeze pick up your stress and strain it through your flowing hair. It was bliss. You had always loved car rides. Specifically, fast car rides. Without noticing, you began to increase the speed that you were going. In your mundane life of eating, sleeping, working, repeat…something as small as a thrilling car ride brought immense joy to you. You lulled your head back a bit, taking in the sounds and sensations of Naples’ nightlife, until…

Wee Woo Wee Woo

Aw, shit.

You looked into your head mirror and sighed. Your suspicions had been confirmed. You were being pulled over. With a grunt, you slowly veered to the side, gently slowing your vehicle. When you both came to a stop, you took the moments before he came to your door to fix your hair and try to at least act like you weren’t annoyed. Finally, he came to your window, rapping three times. You gasped. To your surprise, it was Leone. He hadn’t looked up from his notepad- you assumed he was writing a ticket- and only looked up at you once your meek voice reached out to him.

“Miss, you were doing 50 in a- Y/N?”

“Oh..uh…yeah. Hi, Officer Leone.” He looked at you from his comfortable height and tried not to stare down your shirt.

“Small town, huh?” The atmosphere around you two immediately lightened as he realized who you were. Soon though, you knew you would be driving home with a ticket that you couldn’t afford to pay off.

“Yeah, sure is. Uh…About the speeding-”

“Look. You seem like a nice girl. If you promise not to do it again, I’m fine with letting you off with a warning.” You had to do a double-take. Relief washed over you, and you nodded.

“Y-Yes, of course! Oh, God…Thank you. You don’t know what it means to me. Really…I..” He tipped his hat at you, and you giggled. You found him astoundingly charming.

“It’s just what I do, Y/N.” You both shared a moment of comfortable silence before he began scribbling something down. You tilted your head curiously. He ripped the paper from its pad and handed it to you. Scratched across the pre-printed outline for a speeding ticket was his number. You blushed, knowing what he meant. “I’d like to get to know you more.”

“Same here, Officer Leone.” You spoke with a bit more confidence. As he began walking away, something pulled you internally. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the burst of confidence you got from a gorgeous man like Abbacchio taking interest in you, but you felt as if you couldn’t let him walk away. In one swift motion, you popped open your car door and grabbed his wrist. “Wait.” He looked down at you with his steely eyes, a more stern expression now crossing his face. “Who says you have to wait to get to know me?”

Before you knew it, you were sprawled onto your backseat with feverish kisses being pressed against your warm skin. Abbacchio had long since lost his utility belt, shoes, and hat. You, on the other hand never got the chance as the pale headed man kisses you up and down like you were a prized possession. Finally, you slid out of your work stockings and coat. As you did so, Abbacchio struggled to take off his full uniform in the back of your small car. You bit your lip, anxious to see what such a dignified officer was hiding under his clothes. Soon, his toned and lean body was on display for you, and you couldn’t help but beg and drool. He began to tease, and you didn’t hold back reciprocating.

“You like something you see, bella?”

“What gives you that idea?”

“You’re almost starring as much as you were in the restaurant.” That shut you up, and also earned a bitter laugh from Abbacchio. Not being one to give up so easily, you ghosted your hips down your body, stopping at your panties. You slid them down your leg, aware of Leone’s intense gaze. You both played your game of cat and mouse, teasing and toying with each other’s bodies. Something about him felt safe, and you were sure it wasn’t the uniform. After a torturous hour of praying no driver’s stopped and rolled down their windows, he finally aligned himself with you. In the haze of the moment, you felt your heart beginning to thump. He was staring down at your body, admiring all of your dimples, folds, and humps. “You’re beautiful, bella.” You had no time to return the sentiment as he thrusted in you, leaving you clinging to his shoulders. He gave you a minute to adjust to his length, somehow not letting his stoic exterior slip from him. You huffed out a ‘Move’ and he did so. Instantly, the car began to rock and creak, which only riled you up more. A myriad of sounds escaped your own lips and his as his pace quickened. You thought you might pass out as you reached your personal Nirvana. You had been with men- many in fact. But nothing felt like this. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes as you fell down from heaven. Leone finally pulled out, leaving you feeling empty as ever. After a few hard strokes, he came around your navel. Time stopped as you both looked at each other, and then gears started turning.

This was the beginning of something new and unfound.

#leone abbacchio #xreader #n/s/f/w #jjba #fanfiction #mywriting #bruno bucciarati #vento aureo #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 6 years ago

Text

Sweet Pea//The Brightest Star

Sweet Pea walked into the darkened trailer and sighed at the emptiness. Flipping the switch for the living room on, an annoyed sigh left his lips when the room stayed dark. He dragged his feet to the lamp beside the sofa and flicked that on, before flopping down on the old sofa. He took his tie and suit jacket off, throwing it over the chair on the other side of the room, and then looked around. He stopped when he saw an envelope on the small dining table. He stood up, making his way over to it and looked at it curiously. It hadn’t been there this morning when he left the house, but it was addressed to him, he recognized your handwriting and traced his fingers delicately over his name, smiling to himself. Sitting back down he opened the envelope carefully and took the piece of paper out.

Dear Sweet Pea,

If you’re reading this, I’ve gone away for a while. But I suppose you already knew that. Hopefully Fangs has left the letter out. If he hasn’t, I’m going to kill him when I see him again. And if some random stranger is reading this, Hi, how are you?

Sweet Pea laughed as he read and wondered how you could be so you, even through a letter, however his smile dropped when he read the next part.

How was today? Wait, that was a stupid question, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there today, but ya know. Life’s a bitch. But I promise you I was there in spirit, holding your hand like I always do when you’re anxious. We’ll see each other again. I promise! And at least Fangs and Toni were there to support you. Anyway, I’m getting away from the point of this letter. Because I’m gonna be gone for a while I thought I would leave you some tasks to do to keep you entertained and out of trouble (at least for a little bit). And don’t worry it isn’t ‘do the washing up’ or anything mundane like that. But please do, do the washing up. Look after yourself.

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Even through a letter she’s still telling me what to do.” He mumbled but continued to read.

“So. Do you accept these tasks? Good. The first one is a little mundane but I know you’re gonna need to do it if I haven’t been there for a while. Clean the trailer up, do the dishes, vacuum, wash your clothes. You can get rid of my clothes, just a few.

Sweet Pea shook his head, he knew better than to get rid of any of your clothes. He knew you would be annoyed at him no matter what he had thrown out. But he stood up, and made his way to the bedroom, whilst he continued to read.

Okay, so do that, and then when you’ve finished come back, and carry on reading. And I’ll know if you haven’t done everything. Don’t ask me how, I just will.

Sweet Pea placed the letter on the bed and looked around the mess of his room. He had no idea where to start so he sat on the bed and picked the letter up again, scanning the page to find where he was.

I know you haven’t done anything.

He laughed and continued to read.

And I know why. You don’t know where to start, so I’ll help. Start with opening your curtains. Let some sunshine in. And once you’ve opened them, open the rest of the curtains in here, you don’t need the lights on in the middle of the day (by the way, the light in the living room doesn’t work, you know where the spare light bulbs are, I told you before I went. But because I know you’ve forgotten, they’re in the cupboard under the sink).

“Curtains.” He mumbled, folding the paper up and placing it beside him. “Start with the curtains.” He stood up and walked the short distance to the bedroom window, pulling the curtains open. He smiled at the memory of you choosing them together, and then squints at the sight of the late afternoon sun. The past two weeks, he hasn’t really noticed the sun. He’s had other things to think about. He looked out the window and smiled slightly, knowing just how much you would be enjoying the sky right now, all of the colours swirling together. He knows you would be taking Instagram pictures about now, and he would complain about how you have other things to do, but really he doesn’t mind, because he gets to spend time with you. He can’t wait until he gets to do that again. His thoughts are quickly interrupted by the realization that his eyes are burning due to looking at the sun for two long and he swears, before realizing that if you were here you would have called him an idiot.

He stands in front of the wardrobe you shared, there’s more clothes on the floor than hung up and he sighs, before bending down and picking up a few shirts. He puts them on the hangers and back in the wardrobe, before turning around to tackle another pile of clothes. On top is one of your shirts and he has to sit down at the sight of it. You’ve only been away for two weeks, but he can’t bear being without you. He picks the shirt up and realizes its the one you wore when you first met. He remembers how he insulted it before he even looked at who was wearing it instantly regretting ever being taught how to talk. You had told him that it was your favourite and eventually over time, it had become his too.

He finished putting the clothes away, sorting the dirty ones out and putting them in the washing machine. He didn’t throw any of yours away, he valued his life. He decided to tackle the kitchen next, doing the dishes. The radio played quietly in the background, he couldn’t handle the silence, not when he had gotten used to you living with him. Your favourite song came on and he couldn’t help but hum quietly to himself, laughing at the image of you screaming the lyrics and dancing around the kitchen in his head. Putting your favourite mug back in the cupboard he remembered the day he bought it for you, he’d never seen you happier.

Finally he finished cleaning, and went back into the bedroom. Lying on the unmade bed, he knew you wouldn’t have minded, he would be sleeping in it soon, well trying to sleep. Picking the letter up again he started to read where he left off.

Yayyyy. You cleaned!! I’m so proud! I hope it didn’t take too long! I would have done it, if I was there. Anyway. You can proceed to the next task. Get a tattoo! I know you’ve been thinking about getting another one, so do it!

He shook his head. You had always talked about getting tattoos together but as always life got in the way.

Do it! And I’ve taken the liberty to draw you something that I think would look quite cute. Get it wherever you want (personally I think your wrist) but its up to you. When you’re finished, continue reading!

He stood up and put his serpent jacket on. Picking the letter up, he folded it neatly before placing in it his pocket and walking out of the trailer.

Two hours had passed and Sweet Pea had just left the tattoo parlor. He looked at his phone to check the time. 12:03am. You always told him that everything great happens after 12am. You had only said that because Fangs had told you that nothing good happened after 2am.

His fingers gently traced the tattoo on his wrist but he pulled them away, remembering the feeling of your fingers on his skin. Looking up at the night sky, he sighed, the cool breeze making him shiver slightly. Pulling the letter out of his jacket he started to read again.

Does it look cool!? I hope it does! Do you love it?! I hope you do! I can’t wait to see it! Now, I know you haven’t had a lot of fun in the past two+ weeks so I thought now is the best time. So have fun! Call Toni and Fangs and hang out with them. Smile, laugh, embarrass Fangs. Please, just have fun!

Taking his phone from his pocket he unlocked it and rang Toni. She answered instantly, but he knew she would. No matter the time.

“Sweet Pea?” She asked groggily. “Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” He mumbled. “Y/n told me to hang out with you.” He explained.

“Oh.” She replied confused. “Sweet Pea, Y/n isn’t there.”

“I know. She left a letter. I think Fangs dropped it off today.”

“Ohhh. The letter. So that’s what’s in it.”

“So. Can we hang out. I don’t really want to sleep.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you at the quarry in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah.” He agreed and hung up. Toni text Fangs and they were at the quarry within fifteen minutes.

“What do you think that one is?” Fangs asked Toni as he pointed at the stars in the sky.

“How the hell would I know?” Toni asked and Sweet Pea laughed as he approached them. Maybe you were right about this.

“Hey Sweet Pea.” Fangs smiled sadly at him.

“Hey.” He replied.

“So. What are we doing?” Toni asked.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “We can just chat. I’d like to chat.”

“Are you sure?” Fangs asked and Toni nudged him. “What, never talks about his feelings?”

“Shut up.” She scolded him. “What was in the letter?” She asked.

“Just Y/n being Y/n.” He replied with a smile. “She told me to clean.” He said and they laughed.

“Ha! She’s still bossing you about!” Fangs smiled. “What else?”

“She told me to get a tattoo.”

“Did you?” They asked and he nodded.

“Can we see?” Toni asked, and he shook his head, pulling his sleeves down.

“I want to show Y/n first.” He mumbled and they nodded.

“Sure. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Toni replied and silence fell between the three of them.

“Do you wanna go for walk?” Fangs broke the silence.

“Sure.” Sweet Pea nodded and started to walk away from the quarry. The other two followed quickly, falling into step with him as they left the quarry. Sweet Pea turned around just before it was out of sight, he could have sworn he heard you laugh, just like when he had pushed you in, you pulled him with you and he laughed loudly with you. He turned back, he didn’t like the darkness, maybe thats why he didn’t want to go home. He knew he could do all of these over the coming days/weeks. But his trailer just didn’t feel right without you there.

Fangs sensed that he was getting lost in his thoughts so decided to pull his friend out of them before they consumed him entirely.

“Lets go to Pops!” He announced and the other two nodded slowly. The walk to Pops was quiet, Fangs and Toni unsure of what to do, while Sweet Pea seemed to be reminiscing. Remembering how nervous he was on the same walk, the night of your first date. He had managed to recover from insulting you, somehow getting you to agree to go on a date with him and he had been nervous ever since. However, when you smiled at him, the light from Pops making you look even more beautiful than you already were, all of his nerves disappeared, being replaced by butterflies instead. Not that he would admit that to anyone. Sober that is.

After a few hours at Pops, Toni and Fangs decided to go home.

“Do you wanna come with us?” Toni asked through laughter.

“I’m good here thanks.” Sweet Pea replied, a smile still present on his face from something stupid Fangs had said.

“You sure?” She asked.

“We can stay if you want?” Fangs asked.

“No. Go. Go back to Kevin and Cheryl, they’ll be missing you.” He said sadly and they nodded.

“We’re always a phone call away.” Toni hugged him and he nodded.

“Don’t be out too late.” Fangs added and also hugged him. He nodded and they said goodbye before leaving. Sweet Pea stared at the half drunk milkshake in front of him, knowing that you would have had the rest within a second. He wouldn’t have even had a chance to drink it, but he didn’t mind. He knew how happy they made you and he would give you every single milkshake in the world if it made you happy.

“Whats next?” He mumbled and pulled the letter out of his pocket.

Have you had a good night? I hope you have? It sucks that I can’t be there with you. How are Toni and Fangs? I bet you’re in Pops! Can you remember our first date? I was so nervous I spilt my milkshake all over you and I thought you were going to kill me because I got it on your serpent jacket but you just giggled at me and I swear it was the cutest thing I had ever heard. I’m so glad I spilt that milkshake, even thought it was my favourite. But you’re worth it. Anyway. Onto the next quest! Yes, we’re calling them quests now! This one is gonna be difficult, but you need to do it. It’s better for everyone. Let go and forgive the people who have upset you (which may take a while but I know you can do it) Life is short, we both know that so forgive, and I think I know who you should start with...

“Sweet Pea?”

“Hi Josie.” Sweet Pea mumbled awkwardly.

“What are you doing here? Its four in the morning.” She rubbed her eyes.

“Y/n left me a letter of things to do while she was away and she told me to start forgiving people, so I thought I’d start with you.” He explained and she nodded.

“I’m sorry I messed you around Sweet Pea. You didn’t deserve that.” She apologized.

“Its fine. I never would have met Y/n if you agreed to be my girlfriend. I met her the day of the wedding.” He smiled fondly at the memory of you bumping into him at Pops, and then him insulting the shirt you were wearing. “She had such a hideous shirt on.” He laughed to himself and Josie smiled at him.

“Do you wanna come in?” She asked.

“No, its fine. I have other people to forgive. As you can imagine, my list is very long.” He replied.

“Okay. If you ever wanna talk, you know where I am.” She told him and he nodded before walking away.

Have you forgiven everyone? Good? Now forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for every mistake, every fight we ever had. Everything. Because I’ve forgiven you, its time for you too do the same.

Sweet Pea read aloud, the pale glow from the lamp gave the room a cozy feeling. But it didn’t feel cozy enough. Not without you beside him.

Finally, before I say goodbye (for now), I have one more thing for you to do. Be happy. Please Sweet Pea, be happy. Do everything you said you would and know that I’m always gonna love you. I’ll see you soon Pea. And whenever you’re feeling lonely, look up at the brightest star in the sky, the one next to it will be me. The brightest one is waiting for you, like I will be.

Sweet Pea smiled as tears rolled down his face, his fingers traced the small galaxy tattooed on his wrist. A big and small star sat close to each other surrounded by planets and tiny stars.

“I love you Y/n.” He mumbled.

“I love you too.” He heard you whisper. His phone buzzing pulled him from his thoughts and he looked at the text Toni had sent him.

‘we can see her tomorrow if you want, the three of us can meet at the church. we’ll bring her favourite flowers’

“I love you.” He says again and waits for your reply, when it doesn’t come he replies to Toni instead.

Thank you @statticghost for helping me edit this! You’re the best!!!

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x reader #jordan connor x you

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the-canary · 6 years ago

Text

Heartbeat, Heartbreak - B.B (4/8)

Summary: Three musketeers until you started to fall in love. But, have you been living since then? (Modern!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: “That’s disgusting. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

A/N: This for @notimetoblog‘s writing challenge. this is getting so dramatic but please enjoy. no bucky in this one, but finally some nat.

Feedback is always welcomed.

“All spare you the mundane details of that time, but, it all came full head after the 10th grade summer break. Bucky went to some space camp, Nat went to a ballet workshop -- her dad made her. And I volunteered around until my family went on our summer annual trip. When school started...something was different, they left making googly eyes at each other, spending time together without me -- they had been trading letters all summer, something I didn’t think until much later. I started feeling left behind, than that happened---”

Thor gives the two of you a skeptical eye. You were sitting in a wet dress with a bandage around your hand, the red head -also wet- sitting to his right had a bruise swelling on her right cheek. You were look at the table and she was looking at you, but what grabs your attention is the blond man looking at his phone with a smile before turning to look at the mess that you are right now.

“I’ve already called Jane,” he explains, as you give him a weary smile, “Will you be alright if I leave for my meeting and when she comes?”

“I can manage,” you say with a dry laugh as the tree of a man pats your hand gently before getting up. Dual colored eyes move from looking at you to the Natasha, as he give you that look of call me and i’ll come rushing over. You nod and with a wave he is out of the mini medical ward housed in Stark Industries.

It’s when he’s finally out of earshot that Nat speaks: “He really cares about you.”

You bite your tongue in bitterness, semi-sure of what brought her here and completely unsure about the other half. You were sure she just could have talked to James to stop what he had been doing, if she really wanted to, unless they swung that way as a married couple. You frown at what the years could have done to these two, but maybe they have always been rotted to the core?

They certainly treated you that way when they saw no more use for you.

“Are you just going to pretend I’m not here?” Nat ask, as you move just a smidgen so that you are staring at her black boots. An annoyed sigh leaves her, as you lean onto the armrest a bit more, to alleviate the pain from the hit you took rushing through the side of your body.

“Can you wait for Jane to get here?” you groan out, as you bite back -- much to her pleasure since she hadn’t heard that voice in years, “When she gets here, then you can dish whatever it is you want to -- about you, about James, whatever. Just shut up for now, please.”

You don’t see Nat’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice crack and how it gets a bit more harder to talk for you, as you mention her name and Bucky’s. Her heart drops as she watches you slide further into the chair, as if you’re trying to protect yourself from whatever may come next. She had seen it once or twice before when you were younger, a defense mechanism for when you got scared and Bucky started to tease you, though Nat never thought it would directed towards her.

Nat straightens up a bit more, as she decides to ask: “Who’s Jane exactly?”

You let out a shuddering sigh thinking of the shorter woman for a moment --the one who worried too much and had even tried to set you up with her eccentric brother-in-law once-- as you finally look at Nat. She probably knows who Jane might be, but you strike the killing blow either way.

“She’s my best friend.”

Green eyes look away, as you place your head in the plush headrest, closing your eyes and wondering how exactly you got to this point.

You’re sure its a couple of days after that lunch meeting that you ran out of and had promptly excused yourself in front of Pepper and Tony for later on. They are the first thing that you see in the morning three days after you last seen James and there were really two people in the world that knew which flowers you liked and the meaning behind them, and you were sure that Loki wouldn’t seek you out from all the way in England -- hell, you hadn’t even made it past the first date.

No, there is only one person --from that summer when you were just too into the new flower shop up the block and reading too much into Alice in Wonderland-- who knew that the bouquet of flowers meant to you. You let out a shuddering sigh, trying to stay calm and level headed --though that was becoming more difficult the more you dealt with James Barnes.

You weren’t going to deny it was nice gesture, but deep down the image of him, Natasha, and the baby she had with her that day lingered and festered in your heart like an open wound. You move a bit closer, chest feeling as heavy as cement, as you see a small note between the lilies and gardenias

Please...I just want to talk.

It’s all the note says and with that you grab the vase and throw it into the closest trash bin. You walk back out and ask the floor’s receptionist to not accept any flowers on your behalf.

The flowers keep coming everyday until the front desk seems like a well-tended garden. However, you keep moving forward without a glance towards them.

Sam keeps telling you that James won’t close the deal without talking over the final details with you. However, you keep saying no, that he can close it without you like he had done a handful of times before.

Chester Phillips eventually enters the picture and though he gives you some sterns words, he knows by now that your silence isn’t something that is so easily gained. And for a moment, it even worries the older man.

“You know, this isn’t just about the deal,” Sam tells you one day when he decides to buy you lunch in a cafe not that far from the Tower,”All that anger and sentiment that you feel towards James and this Natasha, it might just wash away when you get closure.”

You eyes turn to him, as he gives you, before taking a bite out of his burger, a smile that sinks your heart at the sight that someone --and in extension so many people-- care about you and your well-being. You shake your head.

“I wish that things like this were easier to let go of though,” you murmur before going back to eating your meal.

You think it’s only a matter of time before Natasha finds out what James has been doing and towards who it had been directed towards and while you think you are prepared to see the redhead face-to-face. It is a completely different thing when you see her waiting by the fountain area of Stark Tower, as you walk briskly and hoping that she didn’t see you or even didn’t recognize you.

“Hey!” the call of your name echoes in your ears for a moment, as you walk a bit faster than before. All the anger you might have felt decides to leave you at that moment as a cold stone causes you to run in to the building and that’s where security stops her, as you only glance for a quick second before you head to the safety of your floor.

You obviously don’t remember that Natasha was as stubborn, even more so, than you as you head outside for lunch only to see that she is still waiting near the fountain area while playing on her phone and for brief moment, you wonder where her baby could be. Though, you are sure that James made enough money to hire a good, if not permanent babysitter.

You remember what Sam told you a while back and while you couldn't stand looking at James for all he had done, Natasha --the silent variable in your dilemma-- is a completely different story, a different sort of pain that came with being a friend betrayed and thrown aside.

She probably knows that you are heading in her direction before anything else, but chooses until you are standing in front of her to look up.

“What do you want?” you asks, as green as take in your form for a moment. The changes in both of you were obvious, but it had been that red hair and green eyes that caught your attention -- Natasha had always demanded your attention in some way.

“To talk, catch up,” she states, making light of the situation in her own way like she used to. And while years ago a younger you might have laughed at that, this time --the last thing you remember before Thor pulled you out of the fountain area-- you end up pushing her straight in the freezing water behind her.

Jane come in after twenty minutes of silence between the two of you, as she glances at Natasha before huddling over on you and asking everything that had happened and if you were all right. You just nod numbly, already placing that layer of numbness over your emotions that Jane had gotten used to seeing over the years, as you give her a shaky smile.

“Are you alright —“ Jane pauses, waiting for her name even though she already knows it.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she states and while you are mildly surprised that there is no Barnes at the end of it, you wouldn’t be too surprised if she had decides to keep her maiden name. Life was so much more easier that way.

“And you are?” Nat asks back, as Jane smiles completely unaware of how the poised smile might be hiding something underneath.

“Dr. Jane Odison,” she states just as proudly as you briefly remember how pretty Jane looked the day of her wedding.

After pleasantries are exchanged a thick silence hangs between the three of you because you aren’t willing to ask what Nat wants and she seems to be assessing the situation, as Jane looks between the both of you for more than a moment.

“I didn’t know that Bucky had asked you out that night,” she admits and you scoff, making sure to show that you don’t believe her in any sense of the world. She grips her hands to her jeans.

“That certainly didn’t stop you once you found out,” you bite back, as she is thrown into silence because it’s true -- in the long run, Nat choose James in the end and without an explanation stopped talking to you all together.

“There’s more to it than that,” Nat tries her best to explain as Jane keeps a hold on your hand, “I know I never got to explain it, but I want to do so now.”

“Why so you could—“

You start off with all the bitterness and anger spilling forth ok the tip of your tongue, as Natasha slams her hand on the table in front of her causing both you and Jane to jump.

“Whatever illusion you have stuck in your head from seeing James and I that day isn’t true,” Nat says in a sort of desperation, years in the making, that you have never heard from her before, “I’m not married to James and he isn’t Rosie’s father.”

You bite your bottom lip and hold onto to Jane’s hand just a little bit tighter than before. However, the words seem to be stuck in your throat, but Jane has known you long enough to know what you might be thinking.

“If we could find somewhere calmer to speak about all this,” Jane’s blue eyes find green ones as you lay your head on her shoulder, “Then I’m sure she would be willing to listen. I’m can safely say it would be best for all three of you to get closure on this.”

Natasha sighs and agrees, as you simple nod. The two of them eventually pick a place and time that is between the Stark Tower and where you could only guess she can live now, but with so many questions and emotions running through your head, you don’t say anything as Natasha gets up after calling on a carshare, or whatever she was doing on her phone --that miraculously didn’t get destroyed-- as Jane bid her farewell a bit tersely.

“Let’s get you home,” Jane pushes you gently, as you simply nod, “Don’t worry, we can forget all about today, maybe get some movies and ice cream.”

“Sure,” you say letting out a dry laugh, as she helps you get up and you make it through one of the many hallways and into the underground parking that leads to her car.

However, it wasn’t an easy thing forget, but whether you liked it or not -- it was time to move on.

#notimetoblog550 #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes ceo #bucky barnes childhood friends au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #series: beat and break #fabiola trying to write

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gokailyger84 · 6 years ago

Note

prompt: in-universe where danny gets really sad about something and ninja brian is trying to comfort him but isn't very good at it

I kind of did this a bit differently than what was requested

Ninja Bri/an was sitting on the recliner in the living room,when Danny walked in.

Looking up from the new ninjutsu scroll he had “acquired”recently, he couldn’t help but frown.

Danny trudged in, hair a mess, kimono undone, flappingloosely around his thin frame. His dinoboxer briefs on full display and a half-gallon of ice cream under his arm.

“Mornin’ Bri.” Hemuttered, plopping down on the couch and plunging a spoon into the container ofice cream.

He looked pitiful.

Ninja Bri/an went back to reading his scroll, trying andfailing to ignore the slight whimpering coming from his partner as he ate.

Danny was heartbroken.

His girlfriend of two months had unexpectedly broke up withhim a week ago. Danny and Ninja Bri/anhad both been taken by surprise.

After all, Danny’s girlfriends usually lasted, at most, afew weeks. To make it two whole monthswas quite the feat for him.

Ninja Bri/an knew that most women got fed up with Dannypretty quickly. He had a tendency tocome off as shallow and oblivious.

At least, on the surface.

If they stuck with him, they would come to know theDanny that Ninja Bri/an knew. The onewho could be sincere, loyal and loving.

That was part of the reason that Ninja Bri/an stayed at his side.

While Danny’s antics could get annoying, he also balanced Ninja Bri/anout.

His optimism with Ninja Bri/an’scynicism. His peaceful nature comparedto Ninja Bri/an’s aggressive one.

All in all, he helped Ninja Bri/an hold on to hissanity.

Ninja Bri/an had took adevastating blow, mentally and emotionally after they had deserted their Ninjaclans. Trained from a child to be anunfeeling killing machine. It was all heknew. Without someone to give himmissions to carry out, he no longer knew what his purpose was.

Deciding to leave with Danny had been an out of character,spur of the moment decision. He had noidea what he was doing.

If not for Danny, he may have lost himself.

Danny gave him a reason to keep going.

Now, Ninja Bri/an had developed into his own person. No longer a blank slate, robotic tool, forothers to order around and use.

He had found a talent for music composition. A fondness forcats. A hobby of knitting. Ninja Bri/an was still discovering knewthings every day.

Including confusing, budding emotions towards the one he hadto thank for his new lease on life.

He was eternally indebted to Danny.

But ever since the breakup, Danny had been in a spiraling depressivestate.

Not leaving the house, barely eating. Lying in bed or on the couch for hours at atime, staring at nothing.

Ninja Bri/an wasn’t sure what to do. He knew this wasn’t healthy and that Danny’sstate would continue to deteriorate.

But what could he do?

——————————————————

Danny dropped the half empty container of ice cream onto thefloor and laid down across the length of the couch with a groan.

The tv continuously droned in thebackground. He just stared at it, eyesunseeing. Just meaningless flashingimages before his eyes.

Why?

Why did she leave him?

A question that plagued Danny for the past week.

He thought everything was going well. He’d never had a girlfriend for so long.

Danny thought she was the one.

What did he do wrong?

Danny’s frown deepened as he felt a tingle in the back ofhis mind.

“Danny?”

Tilting his head, Danny could see Ninja Bri/an standing atthe edge of the couch.

His eyes widened as he continued to stare at his longtimepartner.

Instead of his usual black gi, Ninja Bri/an was wearing abutton down blue shirt and washed out gray jeans. He had even shaved and combed his hair.

In his hands was a cliché picnic basket with a checkered redand white cloth over the top.

Ninja Bri/an looked down, a blush forming on hischeeks.

“Um…would you like to,uh, go on a picnic…with…me?” Henervously asked.

Danny just continued to stare. Unable to hide his surprise.

“Danny?”

Danny blinked.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Danny thought itover.

Despite the obvious effort he could see Ninja Bri/an had putinto his offer, Danny was not feeling it. He didn’t want to go anywhere. Just stay at home and mourn his still bleeding heart.

But there was a part of him that perked atgoing out with Ninja Bri/an.

Danny paused. Thatmade it sound like a date. The lastthing he wanted right now. But he knewthat wasn’t what Ninja Bri/an was offering.

Not wanting to dismiss his partner’s rare concern, Dannynodded, standing up and stretching his stiff muscles.

“Sure, Bri. Just letme throw something on real quick.”

———————————————————-

The picnic had turned out to be a lot of fun. Danny was surprised at how much he was enjoyinghimself.

He and Ninja Bri/an sitting on a blanket beneath a large tree in anearby park. The weather was actuallynice, with a cool breeze blowing in the shade. It was very relaxing. HelpedDanny take his mind off his sorrow for a moment.

And Ninja Bri/an had probably talked more in that hour and ahalf then he had in the past month alone. They talked about everything and nothing as they ate Ninja Bri/an’s homecooked meals that Danny couldn’t help but notice were all his favorites. Ninja Bri/an had really went all out.

Save for an incident with a grasshopper, where Ninja Bri/an’sfiercely guarded phobia was on full display and Danny had to get rid of thesmall intruder and calm Ninja Bri/an down, it was nice.

Danny had a great time and told Ninja Bri/an as such, whowas still obviously embarrassed over the bug situation.

—————————————-

Over the next several days, Danny spent most of his timewith Ninja Bri/an, instead of moping around the house like he had been.

Ninja Bri/an had listened to Danny as he bemoaned hiswoes. Pouring his heart out over hislost love and wondering if he’d ever find the right person for him. Ninja Bri/an didn’t offer any advice, as hehad none, but he offered his silent support and that was probably more thanwhat Danny expected.

He was gratefulthat Ninja Bri/an seemed to truly care. His presence within Danny’s mind was a soothing touch amongst theturbulent negative thoughts that had simmered for so long.

Danny had come to enjoy this new side of Ninja Bri/an. While Danny knew that he cared, Ninja Bri/anwasn’t the best at showing it. Sometimeshis attempts at cheering up Danny went down an odd route.

Like the time he had given Danny a rose bouquet. The flowers were beautiful but the severedhand still clutching the stems were not. Ninja Bri/an had been thoroughly embarrassed at that, saying he musthave taken the flowers from the attendant with more force than he’dthought.

Danny had just laughed and hugged him, causing Ninja Bri/an’sblush to darken. Something Danny wasstarting to admit was an adorable look on his best friend.

One day, Ninja Bri/an had surprised Danny with tickets to asold out Rush concert, despite hating large crowds. Ninja Bri/an had been pressed close toDanny’s body the entire time. His chakrawas fluctuating uncontrollably, his bright blue eyes darting back and forth atall the perceived threats in the crowd. Unableto truly enjoy the music due to his heightened senses. He didn’t truly calm down until Danny hadtaken Ninja Bri/an’s hand into his own, giving it a tight and comfortingsqueeze.

Another time, Ninja Bri/an had taken him to the premiere of anew movie that Danny had wanted to see. They had gotten dressed up in nice suits and even had their picturetaken on the red carpet. Danny evenmanaged to get the autographs of some of his favorite actors. It had been an amazing night.

Danny would still smile, remembering howshocked and pleased Ninja Bri/an had looked when Danny had taken his hand inhis own as the movie started and didn’t let go the entire time. An action that Danny had taken a liking to.

——————————————————

The more time Danny spent with Ninja Bri/an, the closer andmore physical they’d become.

Handholding, hugs, borderline cuddles on the couch. Danny was finding himself looking forward to and preferring being closeto Ninja Bri/an.

Any chance he wasgiven, he spent it with Ninja Bri/an.

Some of Danny’s favorite times were when they would cooktogether.

Usually, Ninja Bri/an did thecooking for the both of them but one day he had come and asked Danny if hewanted to help him.

Having enjoyed replacing the time he used to spend trappedin his head thinking of his ex with Ninja Bri/an’s company, Danny readilyagreed.

He had learned a lot about cooking. Ninja Bri/an was very patient and helpful,showing Danny how to prepare ingredients, the correct way to mix them and whatspices to use with each dish.

Somehow the food tasted even better, knowing he had a handin making it.

———————————————————

“Bri/an? You here?” Danny called, opening the closed door.

Walking inside, he saw that the room was empty. A yellow notebook resting on the blackcomforter of the bed, caught Danny’s eye. Ninja Bri/an didn’t tend to leave things out.

Everything had its place according to him.

Feeling increasingly curious, Danny walked over and pickedit up. Taking a seat on the edge of thebed, Danny opened the notebook.

Looking at the hastily written notes, Danny slowly flippedthrough the notebook.

Each page had a title on it.

An activity with several to-do bullets written below.

Danny’s eyes widened in realization, seeing that theactivities were all things he and Ninja Bri/an had done recently. Like the concert, picnic and movies. Even the seemingly mundane things they didaround the house. They were all there.

Ninja Bri/an had written things like, ‘shave’, ‘buy newshirt’, ‘get tickets’, ‘ask Danny’, and smaller notes could be seen on the sidesin the margins, ‘support’, ‘empathy’,‘don’t screw up’ ‘be brave’, ‘for Danny’.

Danny felt his chest tighten. Ninja Bri/an had really gone all out. He was doing everything he could to helpDanny move on and feel better about himself.

At that moment, the door to the room opened.

Danny looked up to see Ninja Bri/an frozen in thedoorway. His eyes wide and focused onthe notebook Danny was holding.

Meeting Danny’s eyes, Ninja Bri/an quickly looked away as ifashamed.

“Bri/an?” Dannyquestioned, wondering why Ninja Bri/an was looking that way.

“I’m sorry.”

Danny closed the book, placing it onto the bed as he stoodup and approached Ninja Bri/an.

Gently cupping his cheek, Danny turned Ninja Bri/an’s headback towards him.

“What are you sorry for, Bri/an?”

Ninja Bri/an kept his eyes averted, taking a breath.

“I couldn’t do it onmy own. Helping you. I had to look it up. And I screwed up so many times. I know it’s not like a real friend. Not sincere…I just…”

Ninja Bri/an hesitantly met Danny’s eyes.

“I…I missed you.”

Danny stared at Ninja Bri/an in shock, not believing what hewas hearing.

He immediately wrapped his arms around Ninja Bri/an, pullinghim into a tight hug.

“Fuck, Bri/an. Imissed you too and you were more than sincere! Don’t you ever doubt that! Thesepast couple of weeks, you’ve helped me so much. I feel like I can truly move on. My heart no longer hurts. I don’tfeel like my life is over. You did that.You. Not some self-help article or whatever you found. It was you.”

Danny pulled back, meeting Ninja Bri/an’s eyes. He leaned down, pressing their foreheadstogether.

“You’ve been more than a real friend, even a best friend ora partner.” Danny said, his voice crackingas the realization of what he was feeling for Ninja Bri/an suddenly dawned onhim.

Of course he’d realize it now.

Of course.

“Bri/an…you’ve been what I’ve been searching for. Someone who accepts me. All of me, no matter what… My other half.”

Danny trailed off, his eyes sliding close. His emotions threatening to overcomehim.

To think, all of this time…

Opening his eyes once more, Danny looked into Ninja Bri/an’s,seeing a mirror of his own feelings, able to now identify them.

“I love you, Bri/an.” Danny said, leaning in and covering Ninja Bri/an’s lips with his own.

Ninja Bri/an returned the kiss, his arms coming up to wraparound Danny’s shoulders, clutching him tightly.

“I love you too,Danny.”

#asks #ninja ship party #polygrumps #prompts #my fics #nsp in universe #this ask is so old

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writeradamanteve · 6 years ago

Text

Campbughead @writeradamanteve: Day Twenty : Science Fiction

COWBOY JONES

Words: 4,837

Chapters: 1/2

Rating: Eventual Smut

Pairing: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones

Summary: To get away from her overbearing mother, Betty jumped at the chance to work as a mechanic for the Whyte Wyrm. The ship’s captain, FP Jones flies across the galaxy hunting bounties for a living with his son and daughter and their lives are as exciting as they are mundane. Betty’s ready to adventure with this ragtag family of space cowboys (and when she wasn’t working, daydream about the handsome Cowboy, Jughead Jones).

ONE

Betty tapped her spoon on the edge of the bowl and it made flat, metallic clinks. The bowl was huge, intended for mixing large portions of food, like Garden-tossed Salad or a macaroni dish that served three, but all of the smaller bowls were still in the sink, unwashed from the previous night’s homemade macaroni and cheese. It had been Jughead’s turn to wash the dishes and it wasn’t a surprise he had shirked it. He shirked as much housework as he could, but Betty refused to clean up after him. She may have feelings for the 3rd Quandrant’s most effective cowboy, but she wasn’t going to let him push her around.

At the bottom of the bowl was a pile of cereal and some chunks of a banana. The banana was still okay, but in about a day or two it would be overripe.

Combined with the stale bread we could actually make decent pudding.

She shook her head after the thought. She was getting tired of being the only one in this goddamn spaceship who cared to think about recipes for leftovers. Before she came around, the Joneses tended to let their leftovers rot in the fridge.

I swear, they’d all expire if I weren’t around.

It was a little past eight and she expected that the other occupants of the Whyte Wyrm would be waking up soon. FP was usually up around the same time she was, but he must’ve been exhausted from that last bounty they had to catch.

They had been successful, thank goodness. They needed the funds, as evidenced by the low food supply, but Jughead had said payment wasn’t due to arrive for another two days. Alliance money came slower when it needed to be transferred from the 1st to 3rd quadrants of space.

This, quite understandably, put Jughead in a foul mood. He was swearing all the way back from the planet Ursula K in his speedcraft, which he dubbed Hitchcock. His profanity had clogged Betty’s radio frequency for minutes on end.

She normally didn’t mind when he cursed up a storm, but this time, she tuned him out, his swearing was so bad.

He was also, still asleep, though he might be waking up soon.

JB’s sleep schedule didn’t count as a schedule. Her hours were as erratic and random as she was; she slept when she wanted, wherever she wanted, whether it was on the couch, on the stairs or on the kitchen table.

Betty moved the cereal and banana around. They were fresh out of milk, but there had been some chocolate syrup in one of the cupboards.

Desperate for some semblance of breakfast, she had poured some of the syrup on top of her mixture. Everything, after all, was good with chocolate.

Her mother, Alice Cooper, would be furious if she knew her daughter was having chocolate first thing in the morning. Then again, her mother wasn’t here. She was at least two wormholes away, which was how Betty preferred it. She wouldn’t have had taken FP’s job posting for a space mechanic if she didn’t.

The chocolate was predictably delicious and probably unhealthy, but she figured she needed the fat anyway. Her shorts were loosening and she thought perhaps her boobs were shrinking.

The thing about living in the Whyte Wyrm and depending on bounty rewards for their prosperity was that food was either in abundance or went starvation levels low. Feast or famine. It was therefore smart to load up on calories when there was something, anything in the pantry.

To the side of the bowl was her coffee and she took a sip of it.

She breathed in its fresh aroma and sighed happily. Decrepit as their lives could get on the ship, they at least believed in good coffee. FP always insisted on buying the best brand. Betty had no complaints, even when it was her turn to buy the groceries.

Betty felt the caffeine invade her system, and it was good.

She began to munch on her makeshift breakfast as little by little, she felt less aggravated by their lack of food supply.

There was a sound behind her, and judging by the light but slow stride, it was Jughead. Betty didn’t even bother to look. Newly out of bed, Jughead was even less sociable than usual.

In the morning, Jughead was what her mother would classify a disgrace to the public. His ink-black, scraggy locks tended to look a bit bent out of shape and the scowl on his face was enough to deter everyone who saw him from making smart-ass comments about it.

He shambled out of his bunk in wrinkled combat pants and his white, wife-beater shirts, sometimes torn, sometimes yellowing from overuse. Sometimes he didn’t wear a shirt at all, which often caused Betty to wonder if he wore anything under those pants of his.

Not that she was complaining. Jughead Jones wasn’t a tank, by any means. His limbs were long and his body was lean, but those lines of muscles were certainly there. Like his body was pulled tight, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

He took one look at her and she met his gaze with an arch of her eyebrow. She was ready for him, but he hadn’t even had his coffee yet.

Jughead made no comment, heading straight for the coffee machine. He poured himself a mug and he padded to the stool beside her, hunched over his cup. She paid him no attention as she munched on her breakfast and drank her own coffee.

After a while, probably after the caffeine kicked in, he was awake enough to speak. “What’s that?” He was looking into her huge bowl.

“Cereal, banana, and chocolate syrup.”

“Where’s the milk?”

“We ran out.”

He was silent, probably cursing the emptiness of their refrigerator, and again the delayed reward, in his mind. There was a spoon on the table; neither of them knowing from whence it came, but Jughead didn’t seem to care. He took it, polished both sides of it with the edge of his shirt and began to point it towards Betty’s breakfast.

She scowled. “Really, Jug? There are still a couple of bananas in the fridge. Go make your--”

Ignoring her, Jughead tugged at her bowl and began to eat. She rolled her eyes and scratched at her scalp irritably.

“This is good,” he said through a mouth full of cereal and banana.

Sighing, Betty’s only response was to eat before he finished all of it.

Halfway through the meal, she caught him staring at her cleavage. She pretended not to notice, but she might have adjusted her shoulder slightly to give him a better view. She noticed that Jughead liked this particular shirt on her. She was yet to call him out on it.

He tore his eyes away from them seconds later, his face noticeably red.

She didn’t have that many clothes to wear. When she accepted FP’s job offer, she had rushed home, taken what she could into her small suitcase, and hurried out before her mother could stop her. She left a video message for her mother to find and by the time Alice Cooper found it, she was halfway across the galaxy in the Wyrm.

As a result, Betty’s clothing choices were limited. She could shot for new things, of course, but she preferred to save as much as she could instead of blowing it off on shopping. All she needed to do her job was a shirt and overalls. When she wasn’t working, she wore shirts and shorts. She had one sundress for special occasions. That hadn’t been busted out yet. There weren’t many social events to go to in their line of work. Bounty hunting wasn’t a very socially inclined industry.

Still, it didn’t mean she didn’t care what Jughead thought of her. If she ever bothered to wear clean clothes, nicely fitted shirts, and painted toenails, it was because she wanted Jughead to notice, and while he did seem to notice sometimes, he never said anything, which kind of drove her crazy.

And annoyed her. Constantly. Especially now, when he was eating her breakfast.

It was time to call him out. If only for her own sanity.

“Were you just looking at my boobs?”

He choked on the dry cereal, causing his face to redden even more. “Jesus, Betty.”

“Well, were you?” she cried.

He looked like he was struggling. He probably was. With the cereal. With his words. “You know, you wear a shirt like that--”

“This old thing?”

He dealt her a look that was less than amused. “Shoot me, alright. I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and they were--you were in my line of sight. It’s just--I’m just too tired to look away, okay?”

She wondered about Jughead sometimes. She’d never once seen him come home with a girl (or guy) or left with his whereabouts unknown. He always got back to the Wyrm alone and only left for assignments, or quick errands.

For a good looking, healthy twenty-something, who didn’t appear like he was awkward with those who were overtly attracted to him (she’d seen him grin cockily at a few admirers, men and women of varying species, even) he sure didn’t seem to have much of a sex life.

Not that she was doing any better. She hadn’t gotten laid for far too long.

Jellybean swooped into the kitchen, her laptop open in her hands. She was typing something on it, her fingers flying. “Morning, grouch!” she said to her brother without looking at him.

He grunted, but he turned away from Betty, probably relieved that a distraction bailed him out of his very awkward situation.

Hotdog, the Joneses’ sheep dog, followed her in, yipping excitedly, after which he began to lick Betty’s perfectly manicured toes.

“Ugh! Hotdog! Gross!”

Jughead laughed upon seeing the disgusted look on her face.

“Aw, he just likes you, that’s all,” Jellybean said, not looking up from her laptop.

Betty liked Jellybean. She was a sweetheart, but she often had her head in the clouds. She never had any in-depth conversations with Betty, only fleeting, distracted ones. So she figured Jellybean wouldn’t care if she skipped making nice for stopping Hotdog from slobbering her foot. She tried desperately to shake Hotdog off her.

Hotdog simply refused to leave Betty alone, so she lifted her foot, growling menacingly in the hopes of scaring Hotdog off, but she miscalculated her balance and she promptly began to topple back on her seat. She screeched.

Jughead lunged, and was brutally punished for his good deeds with Betty’s foot as it swung up and hit him square on the chin.

“Dammit, Betty!”

Betty figured it was going to be a pretty bad fall and she braced herself for impact, so she was relieved when her head remained suspended above the floor, her butt still wedged on the stool. She craned her neck and found that Jughead had grabbed her ankle as he glared at her.

“We don’t exactly have proper health insurance, you know,” he muttered. He reached over with his other hand, grabbing her by her upper arm. He yanked her up to sit her up, and she told herself she only imagined the extra rub her arm felt as he disengaged his hand.

“That damn foot’s like a sledgehammer,” he muttered.

Ruffled, but otherwise unharmed, Betty tried to regain as much of her dignity as she could. “Sorry, the dog--”

“Bad Hotdog!”

The dog whimpered.

Betty was surprised he yelled at the dog. Jughead tended to snort off any inconvenience Hotdog had visited upon her, like when the dog chewed on her slippers, or when he peed on the side of her speedcraft. Maybe she was finally being let in?

And while she was trying to understand the moods of Jughead Jones, she realized that he saved her a bad knock to the head. “Th-Thanks.”

Jughead arched an eyebrow. “For yelling at the dog?”

“For catching me.”

“Yeah, well…” He began eating the rest of her cereal. She let him.

Jellybean started singing a pop song. A grin spread on her face as she looked at the bottle of chocolate syrup. There was a cartoon cow on it. “You know what planet outside of earth has cows?”

Betty sighed. She still couldn’t believe she understood that as Jellybean-speak for “I have something.”

“No JB,” she replied. “What planet outside of earth has cows?” Not that she was expecting a straight answer….

Jellybean’s fingers wiggled and danced over the keyboard.

Betty exchanged raised eyebrows with Jughead before they turned to watch Jellybean with growing interest. Several faces came up on screen, set side by side on a grid; men and women with bounties written below them.

“Pick a face, Betty!”

Sometimes, Betty just found it easier to do what she was told. She pointed to a face of a man. Handsome and rugged. His bounty was also the biggest on the page. “Jason Blossom.”

Jellybean nodded.”Good choice! I knew you’d pick him for his dashing good looks and inspired bounty. Blew up a stadium, this one. Accidentally, I’ve found. But he inadvertently killed the Prime Minister’s daughter so...”

Jughead snorted. “Dead man walking. Did you find him, JB?”

She nodded, delighted by her own success. “He’s raising cows in Oberlin Major. For beef. He’s a space rancher.” She typed a few more things on her laptop before she pressed the final button with a flourish and turned it around so that both Betty and Jughead were looking at the screen.

It showed a crowded space port on one half of the screen, like a video feed. On the other half was Jason Blossom’s face with pin-pricks of pixels dancing over it.

“Face recognition software?” Betty asked.

Jellybean wiggled her fingers maniacally. “My special program. Better than any of the ones in the market.”

“Better, how?” Jughead asked.

“It crawls data by geo-location.”

Betty and Jughead exchanged looks. That was most certainly illegal, but then again, Jellybean’s primary function was to get them through the inconveniences of galactic red tape.

The frequency of the pixels followed the movements of the video, until finally, the pixel flashed on and off, corresponding to a face in the crowd that seemed to match the flashing pixels on Jason’s face.

Betty leaned over to look more closely at the feed. “Is that--Is that him in a wig?”

“That’s a girl,” said Jughead.

“How do you know it’s not him dressed as a girl?”

Jellybean started to giggle madly as she pulled up the information about Jason. “Jason Blossom of Thornhill Mansion has a twin, Cheryl!”

The young hacker pulled up another video of Cheryl in the terminal, stepping into a passenger ship. Jellybean paused the video and zoomed in on the digital sign perched on the ship’s dock. The sign said, “Oberlin Major, Boarding.”

Betty’s eyes widened and she pointed to the picture. “You figured out Jason Blossom was Oberlin through that? She could’ve been going there for something else entirely.”

Jellybean began to wiggle her arms. “My ways are mysterious and brilliant.”

“That’s for sure,” said Jughead from the corner of his mouth.

Jellybean pressed some commands on her laptop then peered at her monitor. “A movie is filming at his ranch. That’s how I found him. And cows. Cows outside of Earth are delightful curiosities.”

Betty chuckled. This girl was crazy and delightful. She wished Jellybean would let her in more.

Jellybean cracked her fingers. “On the set of the unreleased film Rocketship Salsa, someone took a picture and posted it on Instantgram.” She turned her monitor around again, showing them a photo of a fan with one of the actors of the movie. In the background, there was a blurry outline of a cow and a redhead. Jellybean zoomed into the picture, cleared up the pixelation, and clicked “Match” on her facial recognition interface. The software blinked excitedly. Jason’s face matched with the figure in the picture.

Betty was, once again, thoroughly impressed.

Jughead made a sound and nodded. “The real crime here is that a film named Rocketship Salsa is being made because they think it will make them money..”

Betty shot him a look, but she did follow it up with an amused grin. “So are you and FP going for it?”

“Hells, yes. It might even pay us sooner than that goddamn bounty yesterday.” He ruffled his hands through his hair and Betty longed to touch those silky strands.

Do I even have enough batteries left in my vibrator, I wonder?

Betty sighed. She needed an occupation. “Can I come with? This ship is running perfectly and I’m really, really… ” horny “... bored.”

He seemed to be thinking about it. It wasn’t as if she’d never done a run with them before. She was handy enough with a firearm to help where she was needed, but it was never a given. She always had to ask, and while FP tended to just say, “Sure thing!”, Jughead always seemed to be resistant to the idea.

She exaggerated batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips. “Please?” She might have angled a bit for some cleavage, too. She wasn’t above that right now. If he jumped her, she wasn’t going to complain.

He rolled his eyes. “Christ, fine. But do as I say. If something happens to you, this hunk of junk will give out at some point and then we’ll really miss you.”

The only reason what he said didn’t hurt was because he was half-grinning as he said it.

Betty clapped her hands. “Wonderful! JB, send me all that info, won’t you?”

“Okie, dokie.”

“Hey, does dad know about all this, JB?” Jughead asked, pressing the buttons on his wrist tagger. A screen projected above it and he moved some data around--probably the information Jellybean sent him.

Jellybean shook her head. “Dad was up early and left early.”

Betty was surprised about that. She made a grunting sound.

“One has to wonder,” muttered Jughead, probably meaning he didn’t really care.

“Dad took the Chopper and I didn’t ask, but I could track him.”

“Don’t bother,” said Betty and Jughead in unison. One thing Betty learned about living in the Whyte Wyrm was that FP always came back and it was always better not to know what FP was up to in his free time. It was either too embarrassing or too illegal. Either way, both her and Jughead didn’t want to know.

They looked at one another for about two seconds before they realized that both of them would be needing the shower. Betty had a one-second head start being nearer to the door as she shot down the hallway. Jughead was close at her heels.

As the bathroom door came into view, she grinned triumphantly to herself. But in the next second, she felt strong arms grabbing her from behind and shifting her around. Mid-shift, she planted her feet against the wall and kicked, slamming Jughead against the opposite wall in the narrow hallway.

Jughead’s grip didn’t loosen in the least, but her leg muscles were strong enough to make him immobile, pressed between her and the wall.

Jughead cursed his predicament profusely.

Betty was too annoyed to gloat. “Dammit, Jughead! You can’t cheat me out of first-shower rights!”

Jughead grunted against the pressure. “Since when did either of us make first-shower rights easy?”

She exerted more pressure and he growled.

“Stop that! Are you hoping to suffocate me?”

Betty growled in frustration. “This was funny the first 3 times but it’s getting old, Jones!”

In spite of himself, he laughed. “Speak for yourself!”

“Look, Jughead. Just let me bathe first and I promise you, I won’t use up all the hot wate—“

“Like hell!”

“Even if I do, at least I don’t leave the floor and towels sopping wet; and I don’t make mush out of the soap, either!”

“Betty, get offa me!”

“I’m using that bathroom first, dammit!”

“Okay! I’ll let you! Just get the fuck off!”

“Promise!”

“Okay, already!”

“Say it, fucker!”

“I promise! God-dammit, Betty!”

She slackened her legs and he let her go.

Barely keeping her balance, she turned and arched an threatening eyebrow. If he tried anything...

He put his hands up and grinned, then his eyes flickered down to her her collar.

Once again checking her out.

You know, that shower’s big enough to fit two people smashed together.

She wanted to say it, but lost her nerve. When he didn’t do anything, she took a deep breath and headed for the shower.

8888888888888888

By the time Betty was done getting dressed for the day, Jughead was already lounging on the couch, letting his hair dry. Jellybean sat on the table, humming a made-up tune as she tapped away on her computer, and Hotdog was Hotdog, watching her warily in case she had an urge to kick him out of the way.

Jughead gave her one look and arched an eyebrow. “You look… different.”

She rolled her eyes impatiently. Of course she looked different; she had finally put on her sundress. It was an airy green spaghetti strap with small flowers dotting it. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for a romp out in the arid climate of Oberlin Major.

“Don’t wait up for me,” she said, slinging her strappy gold sandals over her shoulder.

Jughead watched her leave for their docking port.

She climbed into the Vixen, her personal speedcraft, and dumped her shoes into the cockpit. She liked driving barefoot.

“Hey, Betts.”

Mildly surprised, she looked up from her craft, watching Jughead approach from the doors. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Reconnaissance. You and FP may not be big on homework and preparation, but I am. I like to scope out the site. Plus, there will be actors there. I’m a little curious.”

“So you’re going by yourself?”

She frowned. “What? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

He tilted his gaze. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just… do you want some company?”

Betty thought this an interesting development. She let her eyes scan his figure, up and down. Not that he was an embarrassment to be around with. She found him incredibly handsome and distracting, but she wondered if this was just him getting cabin fever or this was him finally noticing her.

She was well-aware she could just come out and make the first move. There was nothing wrong with that, per se, but she was, first and foremost, polite. She had been invited to this ship and she didn’t want to be the one to initiate a disruption in the dynamics. Getting down with the captain’s son was sure to change things. Even if she wanted it to happen, she wanted that initiative to come from Jughead.

His house, his move.

“I don’t mind company,” she said with a casual tilt of her shoulder. “Just don’t get in my way.”

He chuckled and climbed into his own ship. “You’re the boss.”

She scoffed, flipping her controls open. “Right. As if.”

“What?”

“Why are you really tagging along? Like, are you bored? Do you not want me to get a head start? Are you afraid I’d screw up?”

“Cooper, what did I even do to deserve that last bit?” He smirked, powering his own spacecraft.

“N-Nothing! I’m just curious. You’ve always let me go off on my own…”

“Yeah, when you want to window shop at the flea markets. But this is work. You don’t ever go out on the field without a partner. Dad and I go out together all the time. It’s for safety, Betts.”

Oh.

She pulled the strap on her seat and secured herself. “Fine.”

“Great. What’s the script?”

“Script?”

“Well, if we’re going to scope out the place, we can’t look suspicious. What’s our script? Our roles? Vacationing couple? Brother and sister? Pimp and whore?”

She shot him a glare. “Maybe vacationing couple.”

He laughed softly under his breath. “Vacationing couple, it is. Let’s go, sweetheart. We don’t want to be late to cast meetups.”

Sweetheart.

This was either the best idea or the worst idea.

888888888888888

Jughead looked at Betty through the Hitchcock’s windshield. She still refused to look back and he laughed to himself.

He was never going to understand Betty’s moods. One minute she was sweet and nurturing and another minute she was on his case, irritable and snarky.

Not that understanding her was really all that important. In spite of Betty’s mommy issues (the girl seemed to have a fear that her mother would catch up on her), he liked her enough that he didn’t complain about having her on the ship.

They needed a mechanic, for one. And she seemed nice enough, unfailingly polite at first, but thankfully less guarded the longer she had been around them. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Personality himself, so he liked how she seemed to have eased in instead of coming like a hurricane.

Her personality did bring a change of pace to the ship, however, which he thought surprisingly welcome. She tended to clean, which was a bonus of sorts--the Joneses tended to be a little more lax on that regard. But mostly he liked the quiet way she asked after all of them, how she tried to make clever contraptions and fix broken things. He liked that she read. Constantly. He liked watching her write in her journals and then put it away when she caught him looking.

He liked her skimpy outfits.

He liked those a lot.

He liked that she worked on the engine with those overalls that she only really used as pants. She liked that smudge of grease on her chin and the ginormous wrench she lugged around when she was in the engine rooms. He liked watching her work on his spacecraft when it needed an oil change, because he could happily stare at her legs when she was too busy to notice.

She did get cranky. She was human and they were in a cramped spaceship, where they had to turn sideways when they met in its walkways and ramps, where the path to the shower rooms were the perfect set-up for intensely flirtatious racing and close contact.

Even her anger was entertaining. Until he met Betty, he never knew fighting and calling each other names could be so amusing. Never mind that he sometimes got a little carried away and ended up irritating himself.

Maybe she wondered occasionally why she never had to deal with awkward encounters in the small hallways when it was FP or Jellybean. Maybe she didn’t wonder. Maybe she knew.

She was driving him crazy.

He would swear she deliberately flashed him her cleavage on a daily basis.

But did he really want to risk screwing the uncomplicated dynamics of their ship up? If he gave into his impulses and fucked Betty on the engine room floor, which he had fantasized about countless times, his father might very well eject him into space.

For one, space mechanics as good as she was who were willing to get paid a pittance with shitty benefits was rare. And second, FP seemed to have made an agreement with Betty’s mother that FP was to watch out for her like a daughter.

The only person, it seemed, who was more afraid of Alice than Betty was FP.

Ah, well. He was just going to have to jack off in the shower. Again.

He flipped on the radio, grinning as he channeled in on Betty’s frequency. “So vacationing couple, right?”

“Right.”

“Honeymoon or just a quick getaway?”

She flew her ship close to his so that they could be looking at one another through the clear glass of their cockpits. “What difference does it make?”

He slanted a grin. “Huge difference. Honeymooners are more lovey dovey. Quick getaways are more about touring and sightseeing.”

She shot him a scowl before veering her ship away from him.

He laughed, following her. “I’m serious!”

“Nobody’s going to care!”

“We’re professionals. We have to do everything right. Hey, you’re the one who said you want to do your homework and shit.”

“Fine. Quick getaway. We’re there to observe. So… you know, look at things. We can hold hands, maybe.”

He chuckled. Hold hands, indeed. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

“Okay, then. Anything else you want to talk about before we do this?”

“I really think we should go grocery shopping before we head back to the ship.”

She gave an irritated sigh, but she didn’t disagree. “Tell me that you brought money and don’t expect me to pony up for that.”

Jughead grinned. Maybe he liked to tease her occasionally, too. “Oh, right. Money! Yeah, about that…”

There was an audible crackle in his receiver. A sure sign that she had cut the transmission off. He laughed.

He was going to enjoy this impromptu mission.

tbc

#campbughead

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