#unfortunately this joke sticks like a broken record | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shurisneakers · 2 years ago

Text

bridges break (vii)

summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there’s one big secret he’s keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there’s no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: mentions of death, injuries, war, angst, mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing, panic attacks, lemme know if i missed anything and I’ll tag it.

A/N: hate mail to j*ss whedon for not making the avengers friends when he literally. could have. like it was right there. and now unfortunately i have to stick to that part of canon like sir you're ruining my found family ihysm. anyway this part mentions tony. (how are we all doing btw how is everyone's life going?)

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

"Fact number 3. Captain America's favourite colours are red, blue and white."

Steve's face contorts. "Absolutely not."

"I can see why they think that," you say through a mouthful of popcorn. "Take a wild guess, why don't you."

"I prefer the stealth suit," he grumbles. "Not that they cared to ask."

"Because you'd tell 'em if they did? King of open communication?" you retort before going back to your phone.

Steve stays quiet. He knows it's a joke but there's a bite to it that he isn't sure you've used before.

"Fact number 4. The shield is calibrated to return to his arm constantly," you continue, however.

"Now that's just wrong," he states. "Sometimes it comes back to my face."

You hold back a laugh. "You've hit yourself in the face with your shield?"

"I wasn't born with the ability to throw that thing around, you know." He can't help a smile. "The serum was the only thing that stopped us from finishing half the army's medical supplies. I had a new broken bone at the end of each day because I caught it wrong."

"What?"

"Broke both my femurs once. Had to lay there on the ground for a couple hours till it healed so I could walk back to the main camp."

You wince. "Steve."

"They always leave that out of the movies," he says dryly. "Wonder why."

"You're insane." You shake your head. "I feel bad for Bucky."

Steve finds himself grinning. "He was convinced I liked doing it."

"Your smile doesn't tell me otherwise," you say, entirely unimpressed yourself.

There was still a tiny scar on his shin. He sometimes saw it when his legs were propped up in front of him. Each time, ghosts of the searing pain shoot up his thigh and fade away a second later.

"Fact number 5," you digress when he doesn't counter your earlier statement, "His favourite food is apple pie."

Steve shrugs.

"I know that's wrong. You like blueberry better."

The corner of his mouth quirks into a tiny smile. "I do."

"Fact number 6," you call from where you lay on the bed. "His favourite movie is Gone With the Wind."

Steve stares at you from the chair, one leg crossed over the other.

"Well?" you urge. "Is it?"

"How many of these are there?" he asks wearily.

"Like, twenty four." You turn back to the phone when he doesn't answer. "Fact number-"

"Please," he says. "No more."

"Fair enough."

He watches you close the tab, dropping the phone onto your chest.

"It isn't Gone With The Wind."

"Yeah, I know."

You continue to stare at the ceiling. It's an easy afternoon, for the both of you to rest. Check out was later and then you were supposed to be on the road again.

"You know, I don't think I've ever asked you that," you say, flipping onto your stomach to eye him. "What is your favourite colour?"

Steve thinks for a second but invariably settles on the first colour that pops into his head.

"Yellow."

"Fun." You pull your phone out from under you and unlock it again. "I'm gonna comment that, hold on."

After a beat, Steve asks, "What'd you say?"

"Told them I have it on good record that Steve Rogers' favourite colour is yellow--" your focus stays on whatever you were typing out-- "and that their list sucks."

"Maybe leave out the last part," he suggests.

"And posted." You give him a thumbs up. "I'll give it five minutes before someone starts an argument with me in the replies."

He's gotten into his fair share of online arguments. It'd dwindled over the years, but there were enough for his PR agent to pale whenever she saw him near a phone.

"Did you actually post that?"

"Huh?" you ask, but it comes out distant as you click dedicatedly at something.

"Are you already fighting with someone?"

"Give me a second." You hold up a finger.

Steve settles on watching you focus on the task at hand.

In a flash, your nose scrunches up all weird. He thinks it's adorable, especially when he catches your eye and you immediately try to get rid of the disgust, disdain, whatever it was.

"What?" He laughs.

"Nothing."

"C'mon," he prods. "I'll tell you my favourite movie."

"That's a trick question, Rogers." You wave the same raised finger at him. "You don't have a favourite movie."

Steve huffs a little at the failed attempt, but his heart swells. Just a little. A normal amount. He represses the everloving shit out of it.

"It's nothing," you repeat, locking your phone again and dropping it beside you. "I just took a Buzzfeed quiz to find out my superhero boyfriend."

Steve's eyebrow quirks up. "And?"

"It's the raccoon." You sigh. "The space raccoon."

"Rocket?" Steve asks. "Yeah, I could see that working out."

"Do you now?"

"I've got a way of contacting him around here somewhere. You think you can wait that long?"

You reach over to throw a pillow at him and Steve laughs when it misses by a long shot.

_____

The clear, unobstructed skies are dealt with by looming trees. Dark, tall and swaying.

Steve loses sight of the road minutes into the woods, watching in awe and trepidation. His ears stay tuned-- he can hear every footstep in a two-mile radius if he really tried, and for a second he really does consider it.

The car moves along slowly, windows rolled down welcoming the freshness. Steve inhales and exhales just as deep, letting clean, crisp air flood his system.

"That's the owner," you sing, pulling the car to a halt by the side of the house.

It's a wooden A-frame, with windows giving him a peek into the inside. A ramp goes up the side and to the back, serving as an entrance and a patio, a pit out front for campfires.

Steve steps out first, doing a quick scan of the environment before you join him. Nothing was wrong. Yet.

You greet the blonde woman dressed in a bright red tracksuit, hair up in a pony and a bandana pushing back flyaways.

One hand on her hip and the other out to meet yours in a shake, she jumps back and forth between Steve and you as you introduce yourselves.

"It's nice to meet y'all," she chirps, eyeing the both of you up and down. "We get a lot of couples out here this time of year. Y'all got lucky with the booking."

"Oh, we're not..." you begin before trailing. "Thanks for fitting us in."

She catches it, however, raising an eyebrow at Steve. He gives her a polite smile.

"Here's the number to the keypad. Just remember to keep the noise down if you're playing music, no smoking, no pets. If you're using the fire pit, pour water over it when you're done."

"Got it," you confirm. "Won't be an issue."

"I'll be a few miles away at our campsite." She looks at him. "Don't hesitate to call or visit if you need anything. My phone's on at all times."

"Thanks." He gives her a smile.

"At all times," she repeats slowly as she backs away. It has you stifling a laugh.

"We'll keep that in mind," he replies. "Have a nice day."

"You too!" she calls out. "Make yourselves comfortable. Have a nice stay."

You wave at her as she gets into her own car, engine whirring to life as she pulls away, but not before sending him another look out her window.

"Wow," you say in awe when her car disappears beyond the trees.

"I know, it's beautiful." Steve isn't even looking the same direction as you are, seemingly having turned towards the house in the middle of the encounter.

You look at him strangely, almost as if you're gauging his reaction. "Uh huh. That's what I'm talking about. The house."

He tilts his head at you and you dismiss it with a shake of yours.

"Come on," you adjust the bag over your shoulder. "I call dibs on the upstairs bedroom."

_______

The sun sets faster in this part of the world, or he just doesn't notice the time slipping by.

Afternoon turns to evening turns to night in a flash by the time he comes back from exploring the nearest surroundings. There's a lake nearby, still and gentle with a paddle boat nearby that he might convince you to go on the next day.

But above all else, there is just overwhelming quiet. He can hear twigs cracking a mile away, the beating of your heart next to him as you walk beside him and every bird that lands on a branch.

You eat dinner out in the open that night, diner food balance don your laps as you sat on the stairs. Steve has a jacket thrown on. He realises he doesn't really need it, but he keeps it on nonetheless.

"Staying in places like this for at least a week would factory reset your brain," you say. "It's dangerous."

"What d'you mean?" he asks.

"Why do you think people who go on vacation sometimes just stay there?" You bite down on another spoonful of rice. "It's the peace. Once you get addicted, there's no going back."

"Have you?"

"Not yet." You shake your head lightly. "I don't ever stay long enough. I've got work to finish that I won't get to otherwise."

Steve finds himself relating a little too much to that. "Yeah."

"My parents liked it," you add wistfully, almost. "The quiet. Our house was silent a lot."

Steve has nothing to say in reply. He supposes that's why he hears you humming to yourself so much-- filling in spaces left behind by other people.

"But maybe someday." You shrug, facing him with a little smile. "It's something to look forward to."

"Today we're in Morocco. Next week we'll be in Lebanon," she says. "After that who knows?"

"Depends on where we're needed next." He takes aim and throws his dart.

"I guess.” She watches it hit the board. “And eventually, we won’t be needed anywhere." Nat looks at him. "That's what we're doing this for, aren't we?"

"That's the goal." He offers her a dart out of his own pile. She turns it down. "Don't know if that's ever gonna happen. Retirement, stability; it seems a long way off."

"The quiet?" Steve asks.

"The quiet," you affirm.

The sky is cloudy, but the moon is bright enough to illuminate the area around you without the support of the cabin lights. You don't say anything much, only tidbits of conversations here and there.

The leaves rustle whenever a draft blows, and once the wind chime that hangs above you both settles down, you are left in the same silence as before.

He can't tell if he likes it or not.

_______

Steve raises his arms above his head and stretches until he hears the usual pop in his shoulder.

The sweater he's wearing rides up his waist, exposing a tiny sliver of skin before his arms drop to the side again. It was cooler outside than he'd thought it would be, even after you'd raised the temperature in the house in anticipation of it getting even worse at night.

"G'morning," you say, sipping from a mug, settled back in a lounge chair on the patio.

"Is it?" he squints at the sun.

"Well no. It's like, one o'clock, but I didn't wanna wake you," you confess. "Thought you'd need the rest."

Something-- and he' can't quite put his finger on it-- had kept him on edge the entire night. His sleep was light, barely there, just in case something decided to show up from the trees.

"Breakfast?" you propose. "Brunch, actually."

"I'll get it," he replies. "It's in the bag?"

"Yeah, there's some muesli for you. Bread's on the counter," you reply, going back to the news you were reading.

Steve steps into the house, bare feet against the cool floors. He locates the duffel bag on the dining table, already left open.

He finds the box of cereal fairly quickly, and as he pulls it out it reveals the supply of crackers, chocolate and marshmallows underneath.

It brings a smile to his face as he reads the label on each one, sifting through a few ready made meals before his sight lands on a box somewhere near the bottom.

Pancake mix, and a tiny, sealed bottle of syrup.

He sends a glance over to where you're sitting unaware, back turned to him.

It takes him about twenty minutes to find a pan, mix up the batter and make enough pancakes to keep the both of you full the whole day.

_____

Tonight, you declared, was the fateful night.

"You can see the stars clearly from the outskirts," you tell him. "And apparently it's not supposed to be cloudy tonight, so yay."

It's a task, but you gather up all the firewood you could find, a big grin on your face as you drop it near the pit. Steve follows behind, carrying even more than you were, amusement on his face.

"C'mon," you instruct, "time to put those arson skills to use, Rogers."

So he does. Puts all his century-gathered knowledge together and creates the best fire he can, steady and would last a pretty long time. By the time he's done, even he's impressed.

"You got the bucket?" he queries. "The owner said it'd be under the kitchen sink."

"Have it right here, filled and ready to go," you confirm, patting at it. "Don't worry, I heard her through all the swooning."

He pokes at the fire to shift around some sticks. "What swooning?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Don't tell me you couldn't see it."

Steve holds onto the log for longer than usual before declaring, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, my God." You bite down on your lip to prevent a laugh. "I know you're shitting me, Rogers, there is no way you didn't notice her flirting with you."

"Is that what this is about?" Steve's eyebrow creases. "I didn't notice."

"Sure you didn't."

"Swear to God, I got no clue what you're talking about."

"She told you to visit her campsite," you remind him lightly, "at any time, whenever you want."

Steve's face twists when realisation sets in. "I didn't read into it."

"She's got a little crush on you," you tease. "Who can blame her, really?"

"Stop it," he mumbles, attributing the heat creeping up his neck to the fire. "She doesn't."

"Do you usually not notice when people hit on you or--?" you point out, "Because it's been happening on this trip, too. I have eyes, I can count."

"First of all, I didn't get hit on for about, sixty per cent of my life," he retorts. "And when I did, it was hard to miss."

You quirk an eyebrow, throwing a random twig into the flame. "What, no playing coy?"

"The exact opposite." Steve's smile, the one he reserves for the days gone by, is slight to himself. "Sometimes the girls used to just grab me and kiss me. It caused a lotta trouble.”

The boys used to keep track of every time Steve stumbled into his quarters with lipstick smudged across his cheek and genuine excuses for being late being met with 'uh huh, yeah right!'. They thought it was the funniest shit in the world while he painstakingly wiped away at his mouth.

You, however, react differently. A flinch. It's small enough that he probably wouldn't have even caught it if he wasn't paying so much attention.

He's quick to ask, "What's wrong?"

“I dunno. Just think that they shoulda asked first.”

He pauses to think about it for a second. Wonders if that's why he never laughed as much as the boys did.

He can’t think of a response so he lets it go.

"She doesn't have a crush on me." He feels the need to defend.

"Absolutely." You nod. "I completely agree with you."

You laugh when he mumbles something under his breath and it drags a reluctant smile from him.

As dusk moves into night, the clear sky is unfortunately forced covered by clouds rolling in. Not a star to be seen.

"Maybe it'll clear up in a while," he offers.

You sigh. "I don't think so. Damn weather forecast lied to me."

Steve's mouth presses into a thin line. "I'm sure we'll see it along the trip somewhere."

"I suppose," you reply, head turned up to the sky. "I thought we could see it together. I loved stargazing as a kid.”

“I remember you telling me.” Steve's face can’t help itself, his lip tugging upwards.

“Yeah, I’d stay up pretty late to wait for my parents so I found my way towards it. I picked up on a few constellations to show them but they were always too tired." Your head inclines, trying to see past the clouds. “Or they weren’t really interested. But eventually, that’s what got me into science, y’know?”

Steve’s mouth tugs to the side unhappily, eyebrows knitting together. He doesn't know how you were so casual about them, each time, after everything.

You face him again. “Did you ever do it? Stargazing?"

"Not like you, I think," he says. "I can name a few constellations, but that's it."

"You got a favourite?"

"Scorpius," Steve replies. "This kid in my apartment used to point it out to me from the roof sometimes. He liked insects in general, used to chase his sisters around with them.”

A wide smile grows on your face. "That's adorable."

But it’s been years since Walt was long gone; so was his mother and his sisters and almost everyone else in that brick-walled apartment that was falling apart at the seams.

He clears his throat before he can think too hard about it. "Your favourite changes every time you do this, doesn’t it?"

"It does." You reach over to pull out the supply of marshmallows you'd got along the way. "I can't ever pick one."

"Do you have a favourite star?"

"Yeah," you shoot back, smile changing into a grin, "You."

It's the first terrible joke you've made in days. That fact alone is enough to get a laugh from him. It smells of relief and mixes with a groan.

"Leave one out for the bears," he reminds as you hand him a stick with a marshmallow speared on one end.

"Mighty generous of you, Steven." You hold it over the fire. "I'll make extras for you too. Gotta get that energy in when you're fighting them."

"Yeah, you gotta even the playing field."

The joke brings with it the memory of bright sunflowers that should be picture perfect, but instead, it feels like someone's poured water over the campfire.

His fingers itch, and he chooses to run it through his hair to shake off the sudden despair that threatens to weave its way through him again.

Steve reminds himself that's why he keeps the jacket on.

When he looks back at you, your face has sobered too. It's no stretch to assume you were reminded of the way the afternoon had taken a turn after a mostly pleasant day.

"What happened there that day, Steve?" you ask softly, pulling your roasted marshmallow back from the flame.

"I don't know." He bites the inside of his lip. "Guess I was just tired."

He was, but even you know that wasn't entirely truthful.

"I'm not going to push you," you say, neck craned towards him. "But I think keeping everything in isn't the way to deal with it."

His own treat is singed at the edges by the time he remembers he pulls it back, but he can hardly find it in himself to care. He doesn't even think he wants to eat it anymore.

"Everyone says it's something different. The way I am." Everyone's got an opinion, everyone's dissected him open on every television station, podcast, internet forum. "Everything from possession to being a cyborg."

"Doesn't matter what they think."

"What's your assessment?" Steve turns to you.

"Doesn't matter what I think either." You look him in the eye. "I'm not qualified to hand one out. Different kinda doctor."

But it does. It does matter what you think.

Steve looks at you before looking back up at the clouds.

"We didn't have names for all this back then." He finds it easier to talk about the war than himself. "Mostly just called it shell shock or combat fatigue. Sometimes all it took was thirty days on the field."

He can hear it it still, ringing in his ears. With the flashbacks and the commands he remembers shouting over raining bullets, the only thing missing was the smell of blood stained mud and death lingering close by. He doesn't know how he speaks so easily about it, like a reality he's detached himself from. He supposes it was good. If he re-lived every emotion he went through during those years, he'd go insane.

"The first year out of the ice, they had me meet with a few living World War 2 vets. Some sort of publicity stunt, I don't know." He shrugs. "They thought it'd be good."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Didn't really know them, but I knew people who knew them," Steve says. "We talked about what we remembered. Most of it matched up, some of it were things I didn't even know happened."

They stuck him on a plane within two weeks of coming out of the ice and attributed his face going pale and vice like grip on his knees to air sickness. It took a while to get used to being in the sky again.

"One of the guys there, retired Colonel, was talkin' about how one of the privates was gonna get court-martialed for going A.W.O.L. during the war." Steve shifts, tugging his arms closer together. "Just a kid too, eighteen years old. Don't know how they even got past Basic, they always did the vilest shit to get you ready for what's out there."

"I can handle it."

"You're all of four feet tall with twigs for bones, and you think you can handle it just cause your mamma called you a strong boy? Go home."

"I can handle it," Steve repeats, teeth gritting, sweat tearing down his skin. The sky had barely seen the light of day and his muscles already ached in places he couldn't put a finger on.

"Why, cause you got heart? You believe in the power of friendship?" The man's stare hardens like his fingertips. "What those posters sell ya- that's all bullshit, kid. That ain't gonna save you."

Steve's fingernails bruise into the palm of his hands but he doesn't shift.

"This-" He shoves at his chest and Steve is forced to take a step back, heels digging into the soil. "This is gonna save you."

He'd seen this kind of people before. Ones that violence hadn't made softer, just the opposite.

"Your scientist buddy may believe in that good man, boy scout horseshit but out there-" the man points behind him- "out there, Rogers, there are no morals. Would you eat a brother if you were starving? Would you stand on his dead body to pick fruit from a tree?"

Stories of pushups with broken ribs, limbs getting blown up right in front of him. Always hard to talk about the nicer things, the good things in life. Stories shrouded in negativity flow from his heart so easily that he fears that it's become his new normal.

"They called it the war to end all wars. It's what they told everyone, told them their sacrifice would be worth it. You start losing friends once, twice and then over and over again and you start wondering--" Steve presses his mouth into a thin line. "Come out a hundred years later and nothing's changed."

Your mouth is pressed into a hard line. You don't say anything, however.

"That's my assessment." He looks at you. "I think that's what happened there. Thought I'd gotten used to it, letting go of people you care about. Apparently I didn't."

He didn't think he'd have to deal with it again. He'd put it away, locked it in a room with the rest of the memories of the war and when he was forced to break it open again, it just didn't compute.

"We didn't talk about it," he continues, voice clear. "Wasn't really heard of to ask for help. You just... dealt with it. Moved on. Get out of there if you can and get your life together if it all works out."

Some of them dealt with it well. He met Morita's grandson, and from what he heard, the man had lived a good life. He wouldn't talk about the war too often but when he did, it was always about the boys. Others were lost in thousand yard stares and memories he kept locked away, but his grandson mentioned the clementines he always had for him when he visited.

"Have you talked to someone about this?" you lean forward on your elbows. "Anyone?"

"Sam knows a little bit. Buck too, but that's different." That was informal, filling in the gaps from what Bucky could remember and what he wanted to remember.

The VA sessions were good whenever he could attend them. Not very regularly, or a lot; he was always more of a listener than a talker. But it felt liberating to know he wasn't alone.

"There are more specialists out there now." Your tone's shifted from the light one earlier this evening, but he's grateful it doesn't hold the same air of patronisation he's heard before. It's kind. "People who've been through similar things."

"Yeah," he says, chewing on his lip. "I know, but-"

He took the support group job on after Sam, hoping it'd help. Every session, the dull guilt of hypocrisy and the inevitability of someone calling him out on what he was-- a fraud. Trying to help others make sense of a world he couldn't, help them continue when he still hadn't figured out how to move on. A lie.

“They won't- they don’t understand. All they wanna do is take notes and try and figure out what's wrong. What if I don't want to know what's wrong?”

It's like a snap when he suddenly gets what it is, back in the doctor's couch with her opposite him. It's suffocating. He's suffocating.

He blinks hard, turning his head up to the sky.

Stars. There's a constellation hidden up there, but he doesn't know the name.

He could make a new constellation. For the way he can hear you breathing beside him and the spitfire warmth of the burnt-out logs. A constellation, and he'd name it after something you love. Rain on pavement, or videos of penguins falling over. For you and him, and the silence in the between and the words he can't distinguish the meaning for yet.

“Would it help if it wasn't, you know, that methodical?” you pipe up again. "Like talking to me, or to someone else who isn't taking notes."

He looks at you wearily. "Ain't that unethical?"

"What, talking to a friend?" You give him a smile. "No, I think we're within the laws on that one."

Steve's eyebrows upturn, and he waits for you to say something more.

"Not like therapy. Just-- anything. I won’t say anything. But you need to talk it out because I'm worried you're going to implode if you don't."

"I don't know what to say." Where to begin. How to begin. Who is he talking for? How does he do it right?

You look at him with no expectations, but a strong concern. Steve stays where he is, one hand holding a branch, one balanced on his knee.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Whatever you want," you promise. "I'd like to hear you talk about what you want to. Even if it's about the forties, or I don't know; the MET Gala or something."

"They invited me this year."

"Of course they did."

"Don't think I'm going."

"Had a hunch."

But something you said rings out to him, forcing him to reconsider.

Steve hesitates. "You want me to talk about the 40s?"

"If you want to," you reply. "Jus' don't want you to feel like you don't have anyone to talk to. Because I'm here, I wanna listen."

Steve chews on the inside of his bottom lip.

And surprisingly, it makes sense that it's all he wants to talk about.

Going to the past is comfortable. It's calm.

"Don't know if I can get it out," he says. "I'm tired."

"Of?"

Everything, really.

"It's been a long day."

"Well, let's get some rest then," you break the silence, offer him a kind smile.

You reach down to repack the uneaten food without another argument. The ball was in his court again, and he knows that eventually he'd have to rally it back. It wasn't fair; for you to keep trying and for him to offer nothing back.

So he says, "Ask me something. Anything."

You look up at him, and his lips slight upwards in encouragement. You let the bag drop back down.

"Okay," you pause, and decide on trying to keep it light for a start. "Tell me something good."

Something good.

Like what? His favourite childhood memory or the song he finally found whose two lines he had been singing to himself over and over in the past month? Something big, with bubbling laughter and strained voices, or small with subdued contentment and blush stained cheeks?

Almost like you can sense his trepidation, you add, "I can go first."

He agrees.

"I," you begin, almost like an announcement, "saw three cats yesterday."

His eyebrows furrow. "Where?"

"Near the museum."

"I didn't see them."

"That's 'cause you were in the gift shop."

"Oh."

"You know what?" You reach over to dig through the bag. "I actually got a picture. I thought you'd might wanna see."

A thorough look at three felines lazing around in the sun is enough to convince him that the small joys of the world have not, in fact, evaded him.

"Okay, your turn," you say after tucking your phone back.

He gives a small 'hmm' in response, head turned down as he thought.

"Tell me something good, Steve Rogers."

He shouldn't be finding it as hard as he does.

"I've always wanted a dog," he settles on. "When I was a kid, all I wanted was a dog."

"You didn't have any pets growing up?"

"Not really, just a lotta strays I used to find along the way." More like Steve sneaking out several hours in a day with his food wrapped in an old handkerchief to feed some new alley cat he noticed while getting beaten up. "Closest we got to keepin' one was this Labrador. Guess his owners couldn't handle an older one so they just drove over to our town and abandoned him."

"Fucking dickheads."

"Yeah." The corner of Steve's lips lift. "We found him near our house. Called him Champ."

"What was he like?" Your chin rests on your palm as you listen intently.

"Lived up to his name." Steve shrugs. "Ma made him a vest out of an old shirt. I wrote our names on the back."

The smile on your face is infectious. "How long did he stay with you?"

"Not long. Couldn't really afford to keep one, so we searched for anyone in the neighbourhood who could take care of him. He left in a couple of weeks."

He neglects to mention how he never saw him again. Broke his whole heart, it did.

You told him to tell you something good.

So he follows it up with, "Buck tried throwing him a stick to fetch and he just sat there. Never tried again."

"What a king."

Steve exhales out a laugh. "My mom got real mad when we both showed up covered in dirt every day."

"How do you manage to convert everyone you meet into a vagabond?" you tease and Steve just shrugs, mouth stretching down in cluelessness. ""Did he grow on your mom?"

"Oh, she loved him. Wouldn't ever admit it, but I knew she was upset when he left. I told myself I'd never get one after that 'cause I'd never seen her that sad before."

As if Sarah didn't know exactly what her son was up to when he stowed half his breakfast into his pocket and left in a hurry. As if she didn't make sure there was an extra portion that she knew he wouldn't be able to finish, even if it meant giving up half of hers.

"Well, I think she would have wanted you to have a dog if you could," you say. "Maybe you could name him Champ."

Steve's mind ruminates over it for a few seconds. "Yeah, maybe."

Because the truth is, she would. Of course she would. Even if he had asked back then, even if things were a little difficult, she'd have found a way to do it for him.

"There's this picture of her I used to carry around with me everywhere."

Your head motions towards him in question. "Your mom?"

"Yeah." It sat on his mantlepiece until now, where it was back in his wallet.

Her in a white sundress, smiling brightly with her eyes squinted to avoid the glare of the sun. It was before he was born, the laugh line hadn't fully formed yet and her face didn't hold the same suffering it did in the years to come. His favourite picture of her.

"I had it in my wallet the night Ultron happened, and in the middle of that mess, it tore." He still remembers staring at it in the kitchen, knees bent over broken glass. The growing hole of despair in his stomach reassures him that maybe if he looked at it long enough it'd go back to normal. Maybe if he sits there enough he'll realise it never happened in the first place and the nausea rising to his throat was just the adrenaline wearing off.

But the call comes and the group has to reconvene and the photo, torn and jagged, finds its way back into his wallet for another day.

"Do you still have it?" you ask quietly.

"I do, yeah." He nods. "Uh... Tony got it fixed. Called it a birthday present and made me swear to never mention it again."

In exchange for not telling him how he knew about the picture in the first place, managed to sneak into his wallet and restore it without Steve ever knowing it left at all.

Your eyebrows slightly furrow. "I didn't realise y'all were that close."

"We weren't." Not really, not as much as the publicity team pushed it anyway. "But we had our moments."

In another world, they could have been friends. Respect certainly. Admiration, even, to a certain degree.

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

Steve trusted him. Would agree without a doubt that he was one of the greatest minds of the century, if not ever.

But what follows him on nights he can't sleep and days he spends thinking of things that could have been differently, is that Tony thought of him as a friend. And Steve, he thought... co-workers, acquaintances even, but friends--

He snaps his attention to you. "You got anything good to tell me?"

"I finally got around to deep cleaning my house," you say and Steve lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, I know right? Threw out all the garbage, got some new succulents."

"Who's watering them while you're gone?"

You pause. "The cute neighbour down the hall."

Steve's mouth lifts. "Cute neighbour, huh?"

"You know the one. You've heard him play the banjo when you stayed over."

"The banjo guy's watering your succulents?"

"Now when you put it like that." Your eyes narrow, eyebrows wiggling.

He doesn't notice it at first-- but there is a lightness that's replaced some of the fog in his mind. It feels almost foreign, sacrilege to admit that he does feel... better. Not good. But better than he had been earlier.

"You and banjo guy, me and the cabin owner." Steve turns to the flame that was beginning to die out. "Who woulda thought?"

"Hottest double dates in town." You poke at his leg with your stick. "They're really more cacti than succulents, so he isn't going to be over too often."

"That's a damn shame." Steve cracks a smile.

"I know." You sigh loudly in mock despair. "He plays at the community centre on Saturdays, guy's got a whole cult following on TikTok. The kids love him."

Steve didn't really try to keep up with the trends but he wasn't unaware of them. His Twitter page was mostly active, often cited as one of the most influential political accounts out there. He could tell when certain trends set in by the way his mentions would blow up, or the way his following would increase drastically. Most times it was better not to check.

"You know," he muses, "there's a whole generation of kids that hate me 'cause of the high school fitness videos."

You turn to him incredulously. "The what?"

Steve shuts his mouth.

Additional scene #2

The office is muted. Beige, white, cream. It's professional but not cold. It's calculated.

There's a table behind the swivel chair Dr Nasser sits on, but he hasn't seen her using it to date.

He's practically memorised the whole layout.

"How was your week?" she asks, clipboard balanced neatly on her leg.

Her hair was thin and pushed back behind her ears, and glasses hung from a chain around her neck. She had to be a few years younger than him, thirties he thinks, and she's got a warm look in her eye.

Steve shrugs. "Same old. How was yours?"

"It was good," she replies like always before looking back down at her sheet. "What do you mean by same old?"

“Woke up, met with people, go back home." Rinse, wash, repeat.

“So the schedule hasn't changed at all in this last month.” She finally writes something. It's rare, he never really gives her a reason to note anything down. “How are we looking on the 'time for yourself' front?"

“Lunch breaks, the occasional weekend," Steve says, picking apart the fake fern in the corner of the room with his sight. "Sometimes I pretend I’m sick.”

She cracks a smile at that. His lips quirk upwards, fingers intertwining and releasing themselves.

"Any updates on the yoga, meditation... anything of that sort?"

“Can't say there is." There are seven leaves. Last time there were eight.

“Have you met any of your friends?”

“Whenever I can.” Steve moves on to the pot in the other end of the room,

The doctor doesn’t show any sign of agreement or disagreement with his method. Only clicks her pen before looking back up at him.

"Are you comfortable Steve?"

He adjusts in his seat slightly. "I am, yes."

"I mean, during our sessions," she corrects gently. "Are you comfortable during our sessions?"

There are nine leaves in that one. Funny, there were eight last week.

"I am," he replies, one arm crossed over his chest while the other rest on the armchair.

"I'm asking because you've been coming here for weeks now, Steve, and all we’ve discussed so far is the weather."

"Cloudy today, isn’t it?” He gives her a wry smile.

She gives him a unaffected one in return.

It's not her fault. She was just doing her job, and unfortunately, got stuck with the world's most emotionally constipated man.

“Why are you here, Captain?” Dr Nasser asks finally.

“You know why, doctor.” Steve's cheek leans on his fingers, leaving behind indents.

“It’s a part of your deal, I know,” she says, “but why are you here?”

Steve’s smile is tight. “What would you want to hear?”

She writes down something on her notepad. Steve's nose twitches.

“Your actual reason why you keep coming back,” she says when she looks back up again.

Steve's brows pull together lightly at her implication, though he has no idea what it actually is.

“Why do you think I keep coming here?” he asks again.

Her head tilts. “I could name plenty of reasons why, but that’s not the point. It has to come from you.”

Steve observes her the same way she does him. A little guilt springs up in him-- she's been trying and he hasn't at all.

He clears his throat, glancing down for a second before back up. “I was told it’s the only way they’d let me come in.”

“To help with the aftermath, you said?” she clarifies, looking at the three total lines she probably had on him.

"Yes,” he replies. “Relocation, search and rescue for people missing after the battle.”

“Right, the Battle of Earth.” Dr. Nasser writes something down. He follows the movement of her pen. “We haven't talked in too much detail about that.”

He doesn’t know what’s there to talk about. Everyone knew what had happened, the details were there in a public forum. Articles upon articles, documentaries upon documentaries had been made in the few months since it had gotten over, and they were still pouring in.

So Steve asks, “What would you like to know?”

“Your side of it,” she responds. "I could read about the battle anywhere. What I’m interested in is your side, how you’re dealing with it.”

Steve wants to smile bitterly at the fact that she only knows what they wanted everyone to know, but he couldn’t tell her that either.

"I deal with it just fine, I think," he says distantly.

"What do you mean by just fine?"

If this was what one on one therapy was like, it's a wonder why he doesn't care for it much.

"Well--" he blinks-- "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you happy?"

"About?"

"The win," she answers. "Sad? Angry? How do you feel about the team's success?"

A win? The words rest so disgustingly on his shoulders, the weight of a double-edged sword like everything else in his life.

He got the serum only to watch the closest person he had to a mentor die in his arms. He went down with the plane only to be pulled out in a year he didn’t belong in. He fought a civil war to lose his team, the War for the Stones only to lose half the fucking planet, the Battle of Earth only to lose friends who had become family. He fought and fought and fought and over the years, he started losing himself like sand slipping through his fingers.

Steve didn’t know what win was without the burden of loss. He didn’t know happiness without tragedy, and like mortality and death, they found themselves inseparable.

“We tried our best,” he says. “I don’t think it’s up to me to judge whether we succeeded or not.”

She looks at him with a strange sort of expression, like she's deciding what to make of what he said. Trying to decipher him, like he's some puzzle to be solved.

“If I’m being honest, Steve,” she begins, “from what you've told me, it doesn’t look like you’ve given yourself time to process what happened.”

He did process what had happened and look where it got him. Dreaming of people long gone and stolen cake in army convoys.

“I’m not sure what’s left to think about, doctor.” His voice is level, methodical.

A quick glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

The doctor’s head tilted slightly, staring intently at him. “Do you feel restless, Steve?”

All the fucking time, like an itch at the back of his throat he can’t get rid of.

“Sometimes.”

“And what do you do when you do feel that way?”

“Walk around. Park’s open pretty early. There’s a gym a few blocks away.”

“Physical activity- does it help?”

“It does the trick.”

“Are you restless now?”

His fingers stop tapping against his thigh, tongue in cheek and wry when he asks, “Who, me?”

Her smile returns with the realisation that it may not have been the smartest question, head turned down.

"Why do you think you're restless?"

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"Been that way since I was a kid."

She shifts in her seat, picking up her pen again. Steve's realises it's the first time he's let anything about his past slip.

"Why were you restless as a child?"

His back is still stiff against the futon, and there's thirty minutes to go.

"Had places to go, things I wanted to do," he replies unclearly.

"What's changed since then?"

Well, nothing, really. There were still places to go and things to do and to a certain degree he did want to do them. The rest was...

"My mom's not there to lock the door so I don't walk out at three in the morning."

The corner of her lip tugs up. "How old were you?"

"Seven? Maybe eight." Steve squints.

Either way, he started climbing out the window after that, so it wasn't like he was trapped.

"Where did seven year old you go at three in the morning?"

"Hung out with this neighbour kid of mine on the roof sometimes." Steve shrugs. "If it was during the day I'd go down to the store and spend a couple of hours."

"You'd spend hours at the... grocery store?" she asks, trying to clarify.

"There was a guy there I liked. He always thought I was annoying but he let me stick around." Steve smiles briefly, letting his other arm cross over his chest.

Other times-- most times-- it was with Bucky, who'd also climbed out on his fire escape to silence Steve's incessant rock throwing at his window. They didn't really have any place to go, so they did as any fifteen year old would do; jumped over the gate and into the park to skip some stones across the pond.

Steve's mind sharply wipes away the memory and his focus snaps back to the lady before him, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting on them.

She's already looking at him. He genuinely hopes he wasn't staring at her when he zoned out.

"You know, Steve," she pipes up when he doesn't say anything, "I don't know a whole lot about you even though this is our fifth session."

He exhales deeply through his nose, but his gaze is unwavering.

"But--" she looks down at the paper-- "this is the first time your answers don't seem so calculated."

Steve doesn't have any comment. He watches her twist to put aside the notepad on the table behind her.

"What does talking about the past make you feel?"

"At home."

Her eyebrows quirk up in the slightest, like she didn't expect an answer from him so soon.

"Feels familiar," he says further.

"Easy?" she offers.

He nods.

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"Do you feel more connected to the past than you do with the present?"

Steve wants to get up and leave. There's still seventeen minutes to go.

"I don't know," he replies stiffly.

And just like that it's over.

There is tension in the air, mainly from his side because he knows to her, this had to be a breakthrough.

She reaches behind her to pick up the note pad again, clicking the pen against her thigh as she writes something down. Steve can feel a twinge of annoyance in him.

She finishes scribbling something. He can see she's halfway down the paper already.

"How do you feel about a little homework, Steve?"

Steve's eyes flick down to her notes and back up at her. “Haven’t really done any in the last century or so.”

"It's a small task," she explains, "just to let you embrace that part of you fully before we go forward."

Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Let's do this, shall we? Why don't you create a list of things that remind you of the past?"

"What kind of list?" His voice is a lot rougher than it had been a moment ago.

"Could be anything. List of people, places, things. If you wanna bring it in here next session too, that'd be great." She flashes him a kind smile. "What do you think?"

He thinks he's dug himself a grave here. He was having trouble enough as it was. He could already feel his mind slip past his tight grip and into a spiral.

"I'll try, I guess," he replies almost robotically.

It seems to satisfy her, though. He can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s only the littlest bit exhilarated at the crack in his shell.

“That was a lot, Steve,” she notes, leaning back slightly. “How are you feeling?”

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"I feel fine," he says.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #mcu fic #steve fic #steve rogers fic #steve fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve angst #steve rogers angst #bridges break fic #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #captain america angst

106 notes · View notes

scmg11 · 3 years ago

Text

HAILEE STEINFELD x ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER/ Y/N

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

Hello people! I decided to post my works here on Tumblr too! Let me know what you think! And if you have a request, feel free to let me know and I’ll write it for you! ❤️

On the set of Pitch Perfect 3, in one of the trailers, Maggie and Hailee were just chilling after a day of meetings. They had planned a movie night and were getting everything ready.

The filming would start in a month and the girls arrived a week ago to record the songs for the movie and start learning the choreographies.

Maggie was there because she wanted to spend some time with her best friend, since she has been busy with her Revival Tour with her sister Selena. But unfortunately it was cancelled due to her sister's physical and mental problems. Selena wanted to take some time off to take care of her anxiety and depression.

It was Selena who suggested Maggie to take some time off too and to spend it with Hailee, but Maggie turned down Selena's suggestions multiple times, because she wanted to stay home for Selena, to take care of her.

"Please, I'm in a really bad place mentally and I want to take care of it properly. I'm goind in a rehab center. We've already discussed it." said Selena.

"I know. And that's why I don't want to leave." Maggie argued. "I want to stay close to you."

"I appreciate that. I really do. But I don't want you to put your life on hold, just because of me. Besides it's not that you're not going to love spending some time with Hailee. Am I right?" Selena teased with a smirk on her face.

Maggie blushed at her comment, but she recovered quickly and murmured "shut up.". She continued "when are you going to stop teasing me about it?"

"When you'll grow some lady balls and confess your feelings for her."

Maggie shook her head, "you know I'm not going to do that. Ever. She doesn't feel the same way about me and I already accepted it. I'll stick to being her best friend. If she's happy, I'm happy. Even if it's not me the one who will make her happy."

Selena watched Maggie with sympathy but also disappointment and shaking her head she said "stop it. Don't do this to yourself. You know she's crazy about you just as much you are for her. I'm not pressuring you into confessing your feelings. I'm just saying that it's not going to end as badly as you think it will." She poked her finger in her sister's stomach.

Maggie moved away from her Selena's finger and sighed "I just... I'll think about it okay? Now stop teasing me." she scowled.

Selena laughed and side hugged her sister. "Now back to our previous conversation... Cmon. Do it for me." and pouted.

"No. Don't. Don't pout at me. You know I can't resist it." Maggie said whining.

"I know. That's why I'm doing it." Selena smiled and winked. "I want you to know that I'm not going to be mad or sad about it. I'm asking it." Selena pressed.

Maggie sighed "fine."

Selena's smile got bigger and hugged her sister.

And now, here she is.

When they arrived at the filming location, it was 10 pm. They put their suitcases in Hailee's trailer and she showed Maggie around. During their little tour, they run into some of Hailee's costars.

Maggie recognised one of them. They had their backs to the to best friends, Maggie smirked and spoke up "well, well, well. Who do we have here? Anna Kendrick. The worst actress in the world." She emphasized her words.

Brittany Snow was the first to turn around and angrily said "excuse me, who do you think you a-"

"Look who's talking. The worst singer in the history." Brittany was interrupted by Anna Kendrick, who turned around slowly with a smirk.

There was silence and everyone around Maggie and Anna was looking at them with shock e fear in their eyes. The silence was broken by Anna and Maggie who laughed and hugged each other. The shock was replaced by confusion.

"Uhm... what's going on?" Brittany asked.

Anna answered her "Maggie and I go way back. We're very close friends. It's an inside joke between us. We like to mess with each other and even if it doesn't seem like it, we love each other."

Maggie nodded and smiled.

Hailee recovered from the shock and said perplexed "uhm... okay? Guys it's so good to see you again, it's been so long! By the way, the jerk here is Maggie Gomez, my best friend. If you guys don't know her, she's Selena Gomez's sister and-"

"One of my favourite characters in The 100 and Legends Of Tomorrow." Gushed Alexis Knapp.

Maggie smiled "it'a always a pleasure meeting a fan. But I have to say that I've loved Pitch Perfect and Pitch Perfect 2. They are two of my favourite movies! I'm sure I'll love this one just as much."

After presentations and a little chat the girls decided to call it a night since it was pretty late.

The day after Hailee and Maggie started walking around the set and they run into Elizabeth Banks. After presentations, Hailee got called for a meeting with the other girls and Maggie stayed with Elizabeth. They were talking about her cancelled tour and that Maggie was the one who came up with some of the choreographies.

"Oh. Really. There something you can't do? Like produce your own songs?" Elizabeth joked and playfully laughed.

"Well Selena and I somethimes produce our own songs in our private studio at home." Maggie answered truthfully with a sheepishly smile.

"Wait... really?"

"Yes." Maggie smiled, amused by Elizabeth's stunned expression.

"Well..." the director's sentence trailed off. She stayed silent for a couple of seconds, then spoke up "I have to talk to some people, but... we still haven't found a choreographer. Since the one we had, had a project he was already working on, he had to leave. So I was thinking... you can replace him. And... well... And maybe you can help, with the other music producers, produce the songs and help the girls with recording them, too. What do you say?"

Maggie was taken aback, but also very excited, by Elizabeth's offer. "Well I'm honored honestly. I accept, obviously. But... Won't it be a problem, with all that last minute crap?" Maggie asked.

"Well, like I said, I- we have to talk to some people, but in a couple of hours we can get you a contract."

"That's amazing! Thank you, really. I could use a little distraction." Maggie hugged Elizabeth.

So the original plan was to spend time with Hailee until she had to start filming, because then she would be busy and Maggie didn't want to be a bother to her. But now she will stay a little longer. Until the end of filming. Maggie was already ecstatic about her new job, but when she broke the news to Hailee, she was more excited than herself, she squealed and hugged Maggie in a tight embrace.

So back to the movie night.

Maggie was in the little kitchen in the trailer and was preparing a mental list of things she'll have to buy for tonight.

Then she decided to go a little bit on Instagram until she'll have to go to the store.

She remembered she left her phone charging on the nightstand, so she went into their bedroom, but she stopped in her tracks. What she saw knocked the wind out of her lungs.

Hailee just got out of the shower, she had on a matching pair of black and light green lace underwear, and she was standing in front of the dressing mirror. She had her bra on, but it was unhooked holding it by the cups.

Maggie started blushing and cleared her throat. Hailee turned to her right and noticed her presence. "Oh Megs! What do you think? It's new" she asked, twirling around slightly.

Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat and answered, hoping her voice wouldn't quiver. "It-it's beautiful. G-good choice of col-color." She stuttered. "God you're pathetic." She thought. She was thinking about the fact that black and light green were the colors of her character's suit in Legends Of Tomorrow and also her favourite colors! "Snap out of it now." She reprimanded herself. "Sorry, I just wanted to get my phone. I left it on my nightstand." She pointed to the drawer "For the love of God, look anywhere but not her cleavage. NO! NOT HER ABS. EITHER HER ASS. THE FLOOR. LOOK AT THE FUCKING FLOOR." She screamed mentally and averted her eyes looking down.

Hailee smiled and let out a quiet "hum." Maggie lifted her eyes and saw something in Hailee's eyes that didn't quite recognise, but it was so fast, she didn't dwell on it.

"Can you help me hook it up?" Hailee pointed to her bra with her eyes. "I can't reach the hook."

Maggie started sweating and she sweared she saw a little blush coloring Hailee's cheeks, but she thought it was just her stupid imagination. She shook her head and said "s-" she cleared her throat "sure."

Maggie was trembling. Getting closer to her body, she scolding at herself "Oh cmon. Get over yourself. She's asking her best friend for a favor. Stop thinking that."

When Maggie got behind Hailee and touched her skin to hook her bra, she swears she heard Hailee release something between a moan and a whine. "Is this heaven?" She internally melted.

"Sorry... your hands are cold." Hailee said.

"Oh... sorry." Maggie sheepishly smiled and looked at Hailee over her shoulder and through the mirror.

"It' okay." She saw Hailee smiling.

Maggie quickly hooked best friend's bra and stepped back, went to take her phone, but was stopped by Hailee's voice "can you help me fix the straps? They are too loose."

Maggie was having a full gay panic attack. "I think she likes torturing me." Maggie took a deep breath and settled behind Hailee again and started fixing the bra's left strap. When she got to the right one she felt Hailee move a little bit and Maggie stopped in her tracks. "Is it just me, or she just fucking grinded her ass on me? Okay, stop. Get you mind out of the gutter, it was a subtle and involuntary movement." But that didn't stop her body from gathering a burning heat between her legs.

Maggie cleared her throat and fixed the right strap, hastily backed away and took her phone. "I-I have to go. Anna t-texted me, she wanted me to drop by her trailer. She said something about Brittany. Then I'll go to the store to buy some things for tonight. I'll be back in a couple of hours..." she trailed off, looked at Hailee for a second and averted her eyes "okay... I'm gonna go."

Maggie started to walk away but was stopped by a hand. She looked up and into sparkling brown orbs. They looked into each other eyes for a couple of seconds and then Hailee said "aren't you forgetting something?"

Maggie was confused. Her look give her away because a second later Hailee pointed to her right cheek. Maggie sighed, smiled and kissed Hailee's cheek.

"Bye. I'll see you in a bit."

And after this, Maggie was out of the trailer.

3 minutes later, Maggie was at Anna's trailer's door and knocked several times.

After a couple of seconds, a puzzled Anna Kendrick opened the door and asked "Maggie? What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Then she moved aside to let her in. "I have a date tonight. You know that." She was dressed casual but elegant with a pair of tight dark blue jeans and a blue blouse.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry I dropped by without calling you first. But, something just happened and I'm freaking out. I didn't know what to do. So I decided to come talk to you, to ask you for some advice. But you're busy. Maybe it was a mistake, I should g-" Maggie started to word vomit but was interrupted by Anna.

"Woah woah, slow down buttercup. First of all, I'm your friend. And even if I had a meeting with the President, I would tell him to wait. You're more important. Now. Start from the beginning, slowly."

Anna and Maggie sat down on the couch. The younger one took a deep breath and started to tell Anna what happened a few moments ago. Anna never interrupted Maggie and listened intently.

"-And then a I got here..."

"Mh." It was the only thing Anna said.

Then there was silence. Too much silence. Maggie broke it first "Ok, I tell you all of that and the only thing you have to say is "mh"?" Maggie was stunned, she got up and started pacing back and forth in front of her friend.

"Would you give me at least 5 second to process everything you said?" Anna laughed, took Maggie's arm and harshly pulled it to make her friend to sit down. "I was thinking!"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you have a crush on Hailee."

Maggie was taken aback by Anna's statement. "W-What? I don't have a crush on Hailee."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." Sang Anna.

"No. I don't... I'm in love with her"

Silence. An open mouthed Anna looked at Maggie.

"Y-you're in love with her? For how long?"

Maggie sighed "Would it be a cliché if I tell you since I met her?"

Anna was staring at her.

"Not the first day, but a month? Maybe less? I don't know exactly. I know that I had a crush on her, I mean, have you looked at her?" She trailed off. "I thought 'it's an harmless crush. It'll go away.' But it didn't, it got bigger and bigger. And before I knew it, I was in love with her."

Anna was looking at her with understanding and tenderness. "I understand perfectly." And they looked at each other and smiled slightly. "But you don't have to fear telling her. You don't know what will happen. Tell her how you feel. You don't have to be afraid if she doesn't feel the same, because I'm positive that she does. I can see it in the way she interacts with you..." Anna paused for a couple of seconds, then continued. "I was like you. I didn't want to tell Brittany how I felt, but someone talked me into it. Maybe you know her. Singer, actress, in love with her best friend? Does it ring a bell?" Anna smiled.

Maggie laughed slightly, "no, I don't think I know her, but she sounds like a bitch." They laughed. A knock on the door, interrupted their conversation.

Anna got up to answer the door and a couple of seconds after, Brittany walked in, with a pair of skinny grey jeans and a sleeveless black blouse.

When she noticed Maggie seated on the couch, she raised a brow at both of them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your date-" she winked at them, "I kinda had an emergency and came over to ask Anna for some advice."

Anna sat on the couch, motioning Brittany to do the same. Anna sat on Maggie's left and Brittany on her right. The short actress put an hand her young friend "you can tell her."

Brittany is even more confused now "tell me what?"

Maggie sighed and looked at her "I'm in love with Hailee."

Brittany's expression didn't change.

"You don't look surprised." Anna pointed out.

"Should I be? I already knew that. I mean it's obvious."

The two brunettes stared at the redhead open mouthed.

"I just told her and she looked taken aback" Maggie told Brittany, Anna nodded "yeah."

Brittany shook her head, "Anyway. What was the emergemcy?"

And then Maggie told Brittany everything.

"Ok so, she just literally made a move on you and you gay panicked and ran away? Now I see why you and Anna are so close. You're literally the same." The redhead snickered. "I would have done something similar if I shared a trailer with this one" and then winked winked at Anna. Anna's face became as red as Maggie's shirt.

The young singer watched their interaction, but decided to not tease Anna even more.

"I say, go for it Maggie. I mean, it's obvious that Hailee feels the same way about you. Just tell her how you feel." Brittany said with an encouraging smile.

Anna added "yeah, I mean she made a move on you an hour ago. Did she ever did something like that before?"

Maggie started to think "I mean, I'm a physical person. And she is too. I always thought that with a little touch you can prove better what you're feeling. So we're always hugging or searching for a physical connection like a little touch on the arm, or taking the other's hand. But now that I think about it, it's been a couple of months that I can feel a strange tension between us. Touches and hugs lingered a little too long to be considered "friendly". But I always thought it was my imagination pulling a joke on me." Maggie shruggered.

Anna and Brittany looked at each other, then Anna said "you're thinking what we're thinking right? SHE HAS FEELINGS FOR YOU!" Anna squealed, followed by the redhead.

They engulfed Maggie in a tight embrace. The two actresses let go of the singer, "go get your girl. Don't worry about anything. Go for it!" Brittany said smiling widely.

Anna continued "yeah! That's right. Go get you girl. Thanks to you, I did" and she side glanced at her date, who blushed.

Anna pulled Maggie up and pushed her towards the door "now go. We'll talk tomorrow. Now, if you excuse me, I have a date with a beautiful girl." And looked at Brittany who got up from the couch and joined them at the door. Brittany smiled shyly and looked down.

Maggie hugged them both "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. Now go, before a kick you out of my trailer." Anna smirked.

Maggie laughed and got out of the trailer. She looked at them one last time before Anna closed the door. She went to the store to buy the things they'll need for their movie night and when she was walking back to their trailer there was only one thing on her mind "I'm gonna get my girl."

Maggie entered the trailer and after a few steps a body collided with hers engulfing her in a koala hug. "Camila has been rubbing off on her." she thought.

"YOU'RE BACK" Hailee yelled in Maggie's ear.

"I'm back. I was out for only one hour and 30 minutes though." Maggie chuckled.

"I don't care. I missed you." Hailee kissed her cheek repeatedly.

She got off Maggie and tried to look into the bag Maggie was holding. "What did you get?"

Maggie put the things on the counter before answering "I brought pop corn, some candies, chocolate, more pop corn..."

While Maggie was distracted putting the things away, Hailee was looking at her with so much adoration in her eyes. She shook her head snapping out of it and went to take a candy but her hand was slapped away.

"No. Behave. These are for later. Now, let me change so we can get started."

Maggie started to walk to the bedroom and Hailee started to put everything into some bowls.

"Okay. Go change and I'll prepare everyth-ing."

Maggie came up with a plan during her ride home from the store. She wanted to tease Hailee like she did a couple of hours ago, just to test the waters. She'll pay close attention on Hailee's behavior and then she'll decide whether or not to tell how she feels about her.

"The plan starts now." Maggie thought.

Read on ao3

#hailee steinfeld #haileesteinfeld #haiz #haizsteinfeld #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld imagine #imagine #hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x original character #fanfiction

138 notes · View notes

intercoursefluids · 4 years ago

Text

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

#werewolf au #Not sure I like it #Not my idea #If you can find the original tag so I can give credit #maribat #daminette #maridami #protective batfam #toxic!adrien

297 notes · View notes

sonderthroughthestreets · 3 years ago

Text

Skdjdbd I keep forgetting it’s Halloween soon but I started writing this Sobbe Ghost AU a while ago

Robbe moves into this old run-down apartment building and his used to belong to this guy who’s unfortunately been in a coma for a year now due to a car accident. He meets Milan who’s also a resident there and he shows him around the building. When Robbe first steps inside, there’s remnants of the previous tenant everywhere and a cold energy that he can’t explain.

There’s paintings and this old record player that they left behind and Robbe for some reason asks to keep them. He meets Jens, another resident of the building and on his daily bike ride to his uni, he always sees a girl with short, black hair, a septum piercing and tattoos smoking a cigarette. He never gets the courage to actually talk to her. Some days she fades in and out like she’s not really real. Anyways, as he continues to live in his flat, Jens comes up to him and they have a conversation about the building. Mostly joking about everyone here is pretty old and they’re probably the youngest people there. But then Jens goes:

How are you holding up?

Robbe: good, good. My sink’s broken again though.

Jens: oh. So, no like, weird noises or weird stuff happening at your place?

Robbe: Well, uh, Milan said there’s always weird noises since the building’s pretty old so. How come?

Jens: Well, it’s just I’ve seen some pretty weird stuff living here. They say that old people are the link to death. The closest thing to death really. So when someone dies around here, their spirit kind of sticks around for a bit.

Robbe: Oh, but the old tenant didn’t die, he’s in a coma

And Jens pauses for a second, a lift in the corner of his lips and a glint in his eyes that make him look wiser and make Robbe look naive.

Jens: Well you know what they also say. Sleep is death’s cousin.

Robbe doesn’t take it to heart much. It’s all with a grain of salt as he Jens nods and walks away. But somehow he can’t ignore this weird feeling gnawing at his insides.

And that’s how he starts paying better attention, stops blaming everything on a lack of sleep. For a while he hears scratching of paint and brushstrokes on a canvas, the record playing at odd hours of the night and his sink is broken but he swears he’s heard someone turn the tap on to get a glass of water. He’s a man of science and he thinks there’s no such things as ghosts but the third night that he hears footsteps walk over to the record player to play what he found out is Bowie, he starts to believe in them.

“Hey!” he shouts to the empty air. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but I would like to get some sleep, yeah? No one plays Bowie at 3 in the morning”

“You know Bowie?” a deep, intrigued voice materializes along with the body it belongs to. He’s got bleached hair and a Bowie shirt on, black jeans and Docs on his feet.

Robbe isnt just startled. He literally screams.

Somehow it doesn’t wake up everyone in the building and they start talking and asking questions and that starts their whole journey. Yk the whole “who are you?” “How did you die?” (“I’m not dead. I think.”) “Can you feel?” “I’m not sharing this place with a ghost” “excuse you this place is MINE actually” “ITS BEEN A YEAR” blah blah

They get closer and closer and start bonding and finding things out about each other. Having late night conversations and shenanigans where Sander can actually materialize next to Robbe outside of the apartment because, well, he’s not quite dead. He’s just asleep in a hospital bed somewhere. And Robbe finds it hard to trust people, he’s been on his own for so long and Sander wants the exact opposite of that, he wants autonomy, a living space of his own, freedom. That’s why he’d moved out against his parents wishes and came to live here.

At some point there’s tension and angst where they get into a fight about their parents because throughout there’s a theme that Sander’s parents were amazing people and Robbe kind of can’t stand it. So the convo goes something like this:

Robbe: Oh yeah, well if ur parents are so perfect, Why is it that in all the nine months, in the past three months, in one WHOLE YEAR, nobody has ever come to visit you? Not one single person

They don’t know Sander’s in a coma, he got into a fight with them the night of the car accident. Sander tells him everything and about how loved he felt. But how much love is too much love? Until it starts to suffocate you?

Robbe: I think they were just scared

Sander: Yeah but that’s the thing they shouldn’t be. I’m allowed to live my life. I’m allowed to have one outside of their world

Robbe: Yeah you are

I wish I had parents like you. My mom got sick when I was pretty young. Wasn’t right in the head and Uh, started seeing things that weren’t there. My dad couldn’t handle it so like the asshole he is he left. Pretty soon my mom did too. She checked herself into an institution to get better. And I guess she did and still is, day by day. But the things I’ve had to go through, that shit stays with me you know. It doesn’t just go away.

You know schizophrenia has a genetic component? 7% of it is genetic and if one parent has it the risk is at 13% chance of the child getting it

Sander: That doesn’t sound so bad. Are you scared you’re gonna end up like your mom?

Robbe: No. Not really. Because I know the things I see are all in my head or it’s just a dream. It’s not real. Not like it is for my mom.

Sander: Hmmm. You know mental illness isn’t the worst thing. It’s usually the judgment of having it that makes it harder to live with. The shame that comes with it.

Robbe: Oh, I’m not ashamed of it.

Sander: I guess I’m not either. But now I’m in a coma and I’m a ghost and I can’t even take my fucking meds

They’re laughing by the end of it and the tension eases. And of course they’re falling in love a little throughout it all.

“I wish I could touch you,” Sander whispers one night when he thinks Robbe’s asleep. There’s such a longing and desperation in his voice that Robbe decides right then and there to visit him in the hospital and try to wake him up. Because in all honesty, he wishes he could touch him, too. That he could give him all the comfort he needs, that he could feel even a sliver of what he thinks Sander would feel if they were able to hold each other’s hand or embrace in a hug.

And then Idk to go from here but Sander wakes up and they get together 😌

This whole thing is a mess and if anyone wants to write it properly I’ll love you forever 🥺🥰💕

#wtfock #I do have the first chapter written tho and I’ll reblog it with that if anyone wants it lol #I truly dk what this is or if it even makes sense skdjjdbd

48 notes · View notes

schlaggot · 4 years ago

Text

OKAY you seem to want to hear more so i will provide :] i am so sorry the formatting is so fucct i wrote this in apple notes and pasted it here LMAO

PLEASE BEAR WITH ME ON THIS

philza is a god. this is a popular fan theory and i know a lot of people subscribe to this!! its very good. we also know wilbur and likely tommy are his biological children, and techno is adopted. heres where my headcanons come in! im putting it under a cut cuz its a lot

wilbur and tommy weren't born like normal humans were. they were created from something existing, as philza had the power to do so. but, said power was draining, and difficult to do. the way that zeus created athena from his head and dionysus from his thigh? thats how wilbur and tommy were born.

wilbur was born from a fish. PLEASE STICK WITH ME,,. phil had caught this fish in a bucket, intent on starting an aquarium in his hardcore world. he decided to name the first fish wilbur. it was just supposed to be a joke- a small aquarium in his base with a single fish. when he'd pass by to get materials he'd greet said fish. interact with it, feed it, talk to it when he was feeling particularly lonesome. then, something happened. he mightve broken the glass, something might've gone wrong with a creeper explosion- but the fish got out of the water, and there was no realistic way for philza to save it.

so, using his powers, he incorporated the fish into his body. id imagine it was either his chest (because he was so attached to this fish that he wanted it close to his heart) or his throat (so that it could finally have a voice to speak to him). using his power, he was able to (please dont kill me for using this term) 'birth' the child using his god powers. no i wont elaborate <3. this would explain wilbur's whole. um. fish theme. (i know milo and new milo arent canon but also please give me this. also sally.) wilbur was born with a voice meant to lead and comfort, a voice he didnt have before.

techno was a piglin from the nether. a baby piglin, training to become a piglin brute. when phil got to the nether, he found a baby piglin all alone. deciding to care for it wasn't really his first thought, but it was curious of him, and he'd see it every time he entered the nether. eventually, they started interacting. philza would bring it some food or gold from the overworld, and the piglin would give him small gofts in return. a broken sword, an ender pearl, a glass bottle- little things the baby piglin had found while scavenging. phil would realize after a bit that this piglin had been abandoned by the rest of its clan, and he figured he'd take care of the little guy when he'd see him. getting bolder, philza would eventually venture further into the nether. he'd come upon a bastion, and the piglins inside obviously weren't too happy about seeing someone from the overworld there. they attacked him, and funnily enough, this little piglin, brandishing a dull golden sword, tried to defend him. philza likely wouldve died without the little guy's help, so he decided to make a plan to bring the piglin to the overworld.

unfortunately, piglins do turn into zombies when they enter the overworld. its an unfortunate fact. and philza knew this. so, in order to stop this from happening, he gave the piglin a vial of his own blood. the blood of a god. it would keep him rejuvinated for awhile- but it came with an unfortunate side effect. if the piglin didn't consume the blood of a living being for long enough, he'd begin to rot, starting the process of becoming a zombie all over again. he could always recover from this if given blood fast enough, but once he was fully transformed, it would no longer be possible for him to recover. so, philza was thankful that this piglin had an innate instinct for killing. named him technoblade since he thought it sounded cool and fit the little piglin. taught him english, sparred with him, and provided him with enough blood to keep him healthy until techno could reliably hunt for himself. blood for the blood god

now, for the youngest. tommy was born from something not physical, but a song that philza and wilbur had come up with off the top of his head. wilbur was only 7 or 8 at the time, but had a talent for coming up with tunes that philza would hum throughout the day. one particularly nice one was actually a bit of an earworm. philza found himself humming it regularly, patting out the rhythm to it when he wasn't paying attention, and singing nonsense words in place of actual vocals when he was preoccupied with building. "what's the name of the song you sung the other day?" philza'd asked the young wilbur. wilbur hadn't named the songs he'd made before, and didn't quite understand what 'naming a song' meant.

"tommy!" he'd replied.

it was endearing, a human name for a tune he couldn't get out of his head.

it had him thinking for awhile. it took a lot of effort. a redstone contraption, noteblocks, a blank music disc he'd happened to procure from a creeper. wilbur's musical knowledge was especially handy when philza was trying to get the notes just right.

in the end, he'd created what he'd set out to- a recording of his son's song onto a music disc, named Tommy.

creating another life with it like the one he'd created before was even more difficult the second time around- but in the end he had a healthy baby son. tommy. tommy's discs aren't just some useless pieces of music- they're part of who he is.

#dream smp #dreamsmp #mcyt #wilbur soot #philza #tommyinnit #technoblade #YEAAAAA HEADCANON TIME #GOD PHILZA IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY

436 notes · View notes

pinkmirth · 4 years ago

Text

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps.

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

“Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?”

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

#bnha thirst #mha thirst #bakugou imagines #bnha Imagines #Katsuki Bakugou imagines #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha insert #mha insert #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #harmoni writes

297 notes · View notes

2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

Text

NCT Dream reaction : you give them a handmade gift

M.list

Genre : fluff fluff fluff

Word count : 2.5K words

Mark Lee

*sigh* my overworked baby, SM pls let him rest

he probably forgets to eat from time to time or just doesn’t time to

which breaks your poor little heart :<

so when Mark stays in the recording room until late in the night once again, you don’t go to him empty handed

you go to him with a handful of homemade cookies!!! ヽ(^◇^*)/

when you enter the studio, Mark’s slumped figure immediately straightens up, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you

he turns in his chair and stretched out his arms to you with a puppy face and your heart :((( just :((((( melts :(((((((((( wow mark no need to kill us all with your babie culture

but who are you to say no to this angel with somewhat less appropriate thoughts but you didn’t hear this from me so you don’t hesitate to walk into his open arms

he lays his head on your stomach, nuzzling into you and cuddling up to you like a clingy koala bear as you run your fingers comfortingly through his hair, lightly massaging his head

with the serene atmosphere you almost forgot why you came so you pulled away from Mark, your heart clenching at his whine and bring the bag with the cookies out of your backpack and thrust it in his hands

he looks from you to the bag and back with eyes so wide and innocent your brain almost short circuited at the utter cuteness

he digs into it once you prompt him to, a soft ‘woah’ coming out from him once he was hit with the sight of freshly baked cookies

“daaamn these are so good, babe” your eyes shine with pride

as he sticks one in his mouth, munching delighted at it (◠‿◠✿) , he grabs you with an arm, sitting you on his lap like a baby that you are and prodding your lips with another cookie he grabbed out of the bag

“oh no, I made these for you, I don’t-”

he doesn’t let you finish your sentence as he pushes the cookie in your mouth, watching you fondly as you start munching on it and patting your head with a gentle hand

“you’re so much cuter when you’re not nagging”

*GASP*

the Disrespect

Huang Renjun

this baby probably also showers you in his own gifts such as paintings or drawing of you sooo

it’s only proper that you also gist him something made by you (°∀°)

you work your cute ass off to perfect the most adorable Moomin key-chain you can come up with *huff*

the day you finally deem it good enough to be shown to the top artist Huang Renjun you sweat buckets as you approach him

Renjun is busy on his iPad as you paddle over to him and stick the key-chain in his face with a dumb but proud smile “here”

Renjun turns to you with a blank face “what is this?”

●‿●

when I tell you the blood drained from your face and you died 50 times internally, your soul just left your body and you saw your life flash before your eyes ‘well life was good, time to say goodbye eyy’

you manage a loud and definitely not artificial laugh

“HAHAHA JUST AN UGLY THING I made I MEAN FOUND HAha ʰᵃ!!! Hey doesn’t it look like you in the morning?!”

that’s when you knew you gotta bolt the scene

but Renjun of course couldn’t let your embarrassment end there the grumpy little gremlin

he snatched the keychain from you and curled his other hand around you, gluing you to his side and you froze as you looked into his sparkly wide eyes ( Renjun’s eyes are galaxies fite me )

“you made this for me?”

“uh yeah”

warning : you were strangled to death by Renjun who deemed that a simple ‘thank you’ just couldn’t suffice, you had to die asphyxiated by his bear hug

“thank u thank u thank it’s so cute, I love it so much! I love you so much!!!”

“do you love me more than Moomin?”

warning 2 : he threw you away faster than he captured you in his deathly cute hug

“know your place, no. 2″

(¤﹏¤)

Lee Jeno

so Jeno is just a biiiiit upset at you maybe

okay maybe a bit more than just a bit

because you might or might have not broken his favorite cup which, mind you, was also a gift from you, when you were at the dorms

so now this overgrown baby gives you THE stinky eye and makes sarcastic and grumpy remarks with any chance he gets

and honesty as much as you love him, you’re ABSOLUTELY DONE with his pettiness :’)

that’s how you find yourself seated at your desk with a blank cup, acrylic watercolors and brushes spread everywhere as you squeeze every ounce of willpower to finish what you started

so after 2 mental breakdown, painted fingers and a veryyy dirty desk, you finished painting a cute design on Jeno’s new cup

you let it dry and didn’t waste another second to bring it to Jeno who still sulked at the dorms

once you were let inside, you trudged over to Jeno who was sat at the couch, refusing to get up and greet you with kisses as he usually did and slammed the cup on the coffee table in front of him

his frown turned into a confused puppy face so fast his duality amazed you once again, he lifted the cup gently, running the tips of his fingers gently over the paintings you worked so hard to complete for him

“are you still mad, nono?”

his silence was quite unnerving as you started to tire yourself out, your voice weakened by worry, but he lifted his head, looking at you with eyes so soft your heart fluttered wildly in your chest

“mad? you-you did this for me and you think I’m mad?”

he put the cup down much gentler than you and stood up from his seat, engulfing you in his arms, one of his hands squeezing you impossibly close to him and the other one cradling your head to his chest

“I think I just fell in love with you once again”

“if you fall in love just from a painted cup I should be more careful when I leave you alone”

he chuckled at your witty remark, kissing the side of his neck

once you broke apart, he placed his new favorite cup on the highest shelf and turned to you with a shit-eating grin

“i’ll put this here so maybe you won’t break this one too”

“sleep with an eye open tonight, lee” (☉‿☉✿)

Lee Donghyuck

so another overworked baby of mine bless his soul

his schedule is so packed so even though he’d cuddle with you until the end of times you actually didn’t get to do that as often as you’d like

and we all know how whiny lil cutie baby Haechanie can get when he doesn’t get what he wants :’))))

and since unfortunately you can’t be beside him all of the time like he wants you to, you decide the next best thing : you knit him a scarf !! you even stuck a tag made out of a soft material with a drawing of a smiley sun to one end of the scarf

he looks so shocked when you skip into his room and lovingly strangle him with the scarf

and you swear you could see his eyes glisten when you tell him you made it yourself and he remembers the bandaids that seemed to grow in number every day which you always shrugged of when he asked

although the tears may be from the lack of air ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

n e way, he looks so thankful as he wordlessly cradles your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and taking the time to litter kisses over every single one of your small injuries, whispering a soft ‘i love you’ at the end

you swear your heart runs leaps through your rib cage

he just loves you so so much and would appreciate anything you give him

you bring his face back up and press a huge *smooch* on his lips and you both giggle in between your kisses

why so cute you lovebirds?!?

he brings the scarf everywhere he goes, to the dorms, to every show, concert, whenever he travels somewhere, no matter the season

it becomes his lucky charm

once, Renjun sends you a picture of your Hyuckie sleeping cuddled up to the scarf, his nose nuzzled into it

“you know I won’t let him forget about this. EVER” you smirk at Renjun’s text, typing back a reply

“pls do” ( ಠ◡ಠ )

Na Jaemin

this sweet boi hold close to his heart anything you give him

so there’s literally no reason to stress over the bracelet you decided to craft for him

but you being you of course you want to rip your hair out every time something doesn’t go your way ah the levels of patience are definitely soaring through the roof

you even swallowed your pride and asked Jeno for help (read as used him as a puppet) so you were sure you’d get the right size

so after doubting the colors, patterns, material, your entire life choices, you asked Jaemin to close his eyes the next time you met up

with extra shaky fingers, you wrapped the bracelet around his wrist and fumbled to tie it properly

“I’m not getting any younger over here, y/n”

“shut up, mommy jaemie”

he managed to slap the back of your head even with his eyes closed (>‘o’)>

so when you finally tied a sturdy knot with your chicken fingers, you let him open his eyes and beach let me tell you the way his entire face broke into a smile at the sight of the pretty bracelet around your wrist

the sun seemed to pale in comparison with his precious smile, jaemin lights up the world no question, there’s no way you can convince me otherwise

“oh my God, my baby spent time making me such a pretty gift, I must have saved a country in my previous life, come here, let me smooch you into next week (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ “

so that’s how you ended up trapped in Jaemin’s embrace FOREVER

he kept on complimenting you the entire day and made it his mission to boast to every member he could get is hands on about his pretty gift made by his even prettier baby, he’s such a sucker for you no joke whipped culture right here m’am

“Jaemin, the the threads are getting dirty, don’t you think it’s time to take it off-?”

“I’ll die wearing this ʘ‿ʘ“

Zhong Chenle

among all of his ultra expensive things he has, he is dead sure that you’re the most precious in his life

he often told you he’d give up every penny in his bank and all his fame as long as he got to keep you by his side

he regarded you as a ray of warm light when the world left him cold and he swore he’d fight off anything and anyone who dared to hurt you

so this is how he found himself a bit confused and extremely guilty over how he is supposed to fight himself, watch and learn baby

he never meant to upset you, especially over something you poured your blood, sweat and tears into perfecting it just for him

sure, you were aware the Chinese patters you sewed carefully into a pristine white material weren’t perfect, but the way he laughed in you face once you offered it to him toppled your negative emotions over

he wasn’t aware that you sewed it yourself when he made fun of it

“jeez, where did you get this from, Y/N, the clownery fair? even though you should report them for to costumer protection for its ugliness”

“maybe I should report you for being a bitchy prick” ʕ ಡ ﹏ ಡ ʔ

you glare at him and storm away, slamming the door

chenle, the most oblivious and babiest boyfriend : (Θ︹Θ)ს well shit

but of course you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when he sweet talked his way back into your good side basically every minute of the day after finding out from Renjun (this angry angel helped you bless his soul) how hard you worked to sew that

so even though you’re still sulking a lil bit

you accept to come over at his house and as soon as you enter his room you’re shook

where one of his posters once hung above his bed now stood your sewing project proudly

you stared in awe like （’◎’）

“but I though you said it’s ugly”

“that’s before I knew it’s made by you. Anything you did is directly promoted to gorgeous, admirable, incomparable-”

ヾ(＠⌒▽⌒＠)ﾉ

3 weeks later while cuddling

you : *GASP* “I’m so sorry for calling you a bitchy prick, baby”

Park Jisung

he is a giant as much as he is a baby and you agree with me even if you don’t

babies are fascinated by almost anything, especially colorful things

which means Jisung is also fascinated by colorful things ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

so when you met and you pulled out a few origami figures of different, lively colors, Jisung : (✪㉨✪)

“woah, how did you do these?”

“they’re like basic origami figurines”

if he wasn’t amazed enough already

when you picked up a purple frog and pressed on its bottom and it jumped, Jisung jumped up with it

“WOAH, how did you do THAT?”

you didn’t have the heart to break his innocent awe and tell him it didn’t take longer than 5 minutes to make that frog

so you just settled for a shrug and a simple

“magic, Jisung, magic”

at that, he straightens up in his seat, his awestruck expression fading into a serious one as he grips your shoulders tightly （´＿｀）

“you’ve been lying to me, haven’t you?” ~(｡☉︵ ಠ@)>

“what do you mean, sungie?”

“you’re a wizard!!!!!!!!!”

*facepalm* *internal sigh* *whale noises because cuteness levels are just too high*

“uh, yeah sure, baby, whatever floats your boat”

you try to turn away to hide your growing smile, but jisung isn’t having it

“no, you can’t leave me like this!! teach me!!!1!”

he grips your sleeve and looks at you with such wide innocent eyes as if you’re another wonder of the world and you swear you melt on the spot

“well, you know, my services aren’t free” (¬‿¬)

“what do you want?”

“kisses?” ( jisung shutting down )

“k-kisses? kisses??!? i mean *clears throat and buffs up* yeah sure, that’s all? i can do kisses” ( this baby blushed after only mentioning it but okay boss baby go off I guess ) (*~▽~)

he could’t even be disappointed when he found out origami was nowhere near to magic when you spoiled him with kithes all evening *cue a red Jisungie*

#cznnet #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream #nct fluf #nct angst #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct renjun #nct mark #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

678 notes · View notes

junicai · 4 years ago

Text

painting.

| summary | Aria moves into the 127 dorms, and does a little bit of bonding with her new leader.

| word count | 1.5k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. 2016

13. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

Aria groaned in exhaustion as she bent forwards, various objects falling from the precarious stack she had carried in her arms previously. They bounced and rolled across the floor, one canister of hairspray coming to meet the tip of a man’s shoe from where he was leaning against the open doorway.

Taeyong coughed out a chuckle at Aria’s folded form, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to her. “Need a hand?”

Aria waved him off with a forced air of nonchalance, still panting heavily despite her best efforts to get her rapid breathing under control, “No, no I’m good. The stairs just tried to kill me that’s all.”

Taeyong snuck a glance at the closed doors of the elevator, blocked off by a single piece of red signage reading “Out of Order” in bold font. The lift had coughed and spluttered it’s way through the last two months, and had finally given out on its last stand yesterday evening, almost leaving Jaehyun and Winwin trapped inside if they hadn’t decided to take the stairs down.

How unfortunate it was, that the following morning was the day that Aria was due to move in.

In hindsight, Taeyong probably should have gotten some of the other boys in to help them carry the boxes that Aria had shoved her things into; the sweat was beading at his forehead by the time they had dragged the cardboard through into the living room, and Aria had pulled off her sweater to allow herself to cool down.

She leant against the wall, breathing through her nose as she chalked up the distance between the living room and her new bedroom to be too far to continue for the time being.

“Oppa?” the word still felt unfamiliar on her tongue, unused to the honorific. It had been at Taeyong’s request that she used it in the first place, him wanting her to feel comfortable around him; but Aria was still finding her ways around the Korean honorific system, and found herself stumbling over her words more often than not.

The first time she had tried to use honorifics had ended in Aria having extremely red cheeks, flushed with embarrassment, and Mark trying to explain to her that hyung was the name he used for the older members, and oppa was the one she was to use.

It had gone a little like this.

“Ari- Ari, you gotta, like, you gotta use oppa not hyung, ya’know? Because hyung is like, an older brother to a brother, but oppa is an older brother to you? Because you - you’re a girl? An’, and then you’d use unnie for the make-up nooans but I’d use noona, like I just did. So to you, they’re the make-up unnies, and to me they’re the makeup noonas. Johnny hyung, Johnny oppa. Does that make sense?”

Aria had looked at him with the most bewildered face, eyes widened and lips parted slightly.

From across the room, Taeil had bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, before swooping in to offer an out for poor Mark, who was beginning to delve into another convoluted explanation.

“Yeah, Aria?” Taeyong’s voice came from across the room.

Aria looked up, searching for the taller man and her eyes found him shuffling around in the kitchen, two glasses of water on the counter top.

“There you go,” he pointed towards one of the glasses. “If one of the others aren’t back soon to help, we might have to drag the boxes in ourselves,” he smiled ruefully. “I knew we shouldn’t have let Jaehyun go out today.”

Aria thanked him, before picking up the glass with her two hands and turned to the side to drink.

The silence was buffering, and ate away at whatever comforting atmosphere Taeyong had tried to create.

It wasn’t that Aria was uncomfortable around him - no not at all. It was just the fact that she knew the boys were being more than accommodating for her, she knew that Yuta was sharing a room with Winwin now because they insisted on her having her own space, she knew that she was toe-ing a barely there line between intruding and just being downright entitled.

Having voiced these thoughts during the early hours of the night to Donghyuck almost a week ago, Aria knew exactly what kind of spiel she’d be on the receiving end of should she protest the room changes - but that didn’t stop the little pool of guilt from settling in the bottom of her stomach when she snuck a glance around and saw the empty bedroom’s door partially opened, all of Sicheng’s things having been moved out two nights ago.

“Oppa,” Aria tried the honorific out again, finding that it still felt fumbled out, but from Taeyong’s affirming hum she must have sounded less stilted than the last time, “Do you think you could help me move the box of paints into my room? I can carry the rest, but that box is really heavy, and I don’t want to drop it.”

Taeyong turned around to her, “Yeah no problem, Aria. Which one is it?”

Aria pointed to the singular plastic box among the cardboard ones; spattered with white and yellow and various other colors. The pair of them made their way over, hands curling around the lip of the box.

“On three?” Taeyong nodded.

He counted them through before Aria was heaving up her side of the box and Taeyong was slipping his arm underneath it to hold some of the weight steady. They paused momentarily once they had the box in the air, finding a good balance and ensuring nothing inside had tipped over, before Aria began her shuffle backwards.

“Mind behind you,” Taeyong warned, and Aria lifted her feet over the box that would have tripped her otherwise.

The small steps they took to bring the paint box into her room felt never ending, and by the time they passed the threshold, both Aria and Taeyong’s arms were shaking lightly.

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” Taeyong’s voice was breathless, anticipating the moment when he could give his arms a rest.

“Maybe - just in the corner? Over there, out of the way.” Aria jerked her head towards the far corner, on the opposite side of the room of the bed and empty desk.

The box was placed down with a thud, and Taeyong straightened up - shaking out his arms. Aria sat down harshly on the bed free of coverings, legs beginning to burn from the numerous flights of stairs she had climbed earlier on in the day. Taeyong joined her after a moment, sitting down beside her.

“You need a hand taking in the rest of your things?” he questioned, turning to look at her.

“Nah,” Aria shook her head. “I might wait a while and get Hyuck to drag them in for me.”

Taeyong snorted slightly. “You know, I think you’re the only person who can get that boy to do something he doesn’t already want to do.”

“Jokes on him, I just convince him that it was his idea.”

The silence settled again, less acidic this time.

It was broken after a second by Taeyong. “I didn’t know you could paint?”

Aria cast her gaze over to the stained box in the corner. A dry paintbrush was sticking out the top of it, the bristles clean but the wooden handle covered in splashes of colourful paint - intermittent with streaks of white and black and a mixture of the two.

“Yeah,” Aria hummed. “I don’t know when I started, I just. Always have, I think.”

“Did someone teach you? Your parents?”

Aria coughed to hide the laugh that threatened to break from her chest. “Oh no, no. Youtube taught me most of what I know, I won’t lie. And I’m not, very good - it’s just, therapeutic? Like poetry, but you don’t have to concentrate on finding the right words.”

Taeyong nodded knowingly.

Aria supposed he would understand the sentiment; given the hours he spends doing what it is he does in the practice rooms or the recording studios for hours after their ‘official’ days end. She supposed that there has to be hundreds of wordless messages hidden in forty second tracks on the USB stick he keeps on his keychain.

“You know, Ten is really artistic,” Taeyong begins again. “I never really understood it much - the colours and the images you pull out of nothing - but he seems to. A lot more than I ever could. He gets it a little bit more, I guess. The whole, unspoken words thing. I’d love to know how he did it.”

His eyes had shifted into something sincere now, and he was gazing down at Aria. She got the sense that they weren’t just talking about painting anymore.

“I’m just saying that, if you ever need someone to talk to - about painting - then I’ll always have an open ear.”

Aria supposed Taeyong didn’t quite understand what those words meant to her just yet.

117 notes · View notes

unsteadyshade · 4 years ago

Note

Hmm 52 and or 62 monochrome for the prompts

from this prompt list. a friend sent me a video, and that is what this was inspired by. i remembered your prompt, anon, and i just rolled with it. i should start mentioning that prompts might take a while, but better late than never. i hope you enjoy!

"Come on, show off those glutes!"

Blake glares at her best friend and teammate currently recording her from her phone. Unfortunately, Yang is unfazed and continues grinning. They're both sweaty and covered in grime from their soccer game, and all Blake wants to do is take a shower.

"That's the last thing I want to do."

"It's for a good cause, promise!" Blake narrows her eyes. She's too tired to overthink things, but she does notice Yang occasionally glancing behind her at something. It makes her curious enough to do the same, albeit in a much more subtle way. What she sees is a white-haired woman who looks strangely familiar despite Blake not associating with anyone with hair like that. It's only when Nora, another teammate, passes by after snatching a magazine from her boyfriend's hands that Blake remembers who that stranger is and smirks.

How can Weiss Schnee escape her mind? The woman was featured everywhere, especially in recent times with her delightfully controversial decisions as CEO of the SDC. Blake thinks that it was a long time coming, however more could be done. She knows progress for Faunus and other marginalized people takes time though, a lesson ingrained ever since she was a child. That any progress was made at all after Weiss somehow managed to convince the board to agree with her is a point in her favor.

Of course, that isn't the only reason the CEO catches Blake's attention. The press had been speculating for a while that Weiss had been seeing suitors, and not all of them were men. Granted, that could just be the tabloids looking to spin a story, but Blake's bisexual heart couldn't help but hope. She may never get a chance to meet the woman, but it's a nice thought.

Well, maybe things can change. Blake isn't sure if it's a good thing that they happen to be in the same hotel at the same time so close to each other, but the inner romantic in her can't help but think about fate. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. If nothing else, she can verify one thing. And even if she embarrasses herself, at least it'd be a fun video to watch back later.

Blake gives the blonde a look only able to be deciphered by years of friendship, and Yang only grins back. It'd usually be her that would suggest something chaotic, so the rare reversal is nice. Yang tosses her the soccer ball she's been carrying like a trophy, and Blake easily starts juggling it.

In her peripheral vision and with the way Yang's grin widens, Blake can tell that the woman behind her has stopped walking. What she's doing, Blake isn't sure, but she does hear fabric rustling. She guesses that Weiss has decided to lean against the wall either to watch her since they're blocking the hallway anyway. It's been a while since Blake has used her soccer skills to impress anyone, so she hopes Yang won't tease her too badly if this is a bust.

Following several minutes of juggling the soccer ball, Blake deliberately kicks it over to where she suspects Weiss is still standing. After picking it up slowly--Blake won't admit that she might have been distracted by the CEO's legs and that pretty skirt--she stands and flashes an apologetic smile. There's a pretty pink in her cheeks, so Blake thinks that she has to be at least a little impressed with her earlier show. She takes a chance and winks.

Oh, that blush is gorgeous. Blake smirks--that roguish one Yang had been caught by when they first met--and speaks, lowering her voice in a way that she'll blame on exhaustion if asked. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to block the hallway." She ignores the snort of laughter from her best friend and leans against the wall directly in front of Weiss, pleased to learn that she is taller.

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?" The CEO crosses her arms and raises a brow, and somehow Blake is the one who feels small for a moment before blinking away her surprise. Blake feels foolish for feeling this way but supposes she should've expected some level of intimidation from a successful businesswoman. Still, she's going to continue to try and impress her until there's absolutely no chance left for her.

"You could say that...but now I have a reason to keep you here."

"And that would be...?"

Well, here she goes. The moment that'll decide whether she'll get teased mercilessly or a slap on the back from her best friend. "To invite you to watch me practice."

There's an agonizing moment of silence as Weiss takes that in broken only by another snort from behind her. Then, the businesswoman takes out a card, elegantly writes a set of numbers on it, and hands it to Blake with a small smirk. "Don't text me the wrong time or location or else I'll be sorely disappointed. I'll see you there, beautiful." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yang is still laughing by the time they make it to the park. Honestly, Blake is just glad that she wasn't laughing more than she did earlier and sighs. At least they've showered. She hopes they won't be sweating too much. "Yang, come on. I need moral support, not any more of your jokes."

"Okay okay...just one more time! She called you beautiful, and you stood there gaping like a red-faced fish for five minutes!"

"It couldn't have been that long..." Blake mumbles, trying very hard not to think about Weiss's smirk after seeing her reaction and how much she wanted to kiss it away. A slap on the back abruptly takes her out of her thoughts, and she stumbles a bit before righting herself with a glare aimed at the grinning blonde.

"Maybe not, but I'm still proud of you! Got a number and demonstration?"

"Don't say it like that."

"But that's exactly what this is. You wanna show off for her even more than you did earlier, and I'm here to help with that." Yang's voice drops solemnly. "This is the only time I'll let you embarrass me on the field."

Blake rolls her eyes. "Just help me warm up."

"Looks like you'll have to do without that. She's here."

"What?!" Blake whirls around, and sure enough, Weiss is making her way over to them. Yang gives her two thumbs up before jogging a ways away. Of course the CEO would arrive early. "Hey." Blake greets with a nervous smile.

Surprisingly, it also seems that the seemingly composed woman is also nervous when she smiles back. "Hi."

They stare at each other for a moment too long to be considered friendly until Yang wraps her arms around them and winks at the shortest woman. "You ready to watch your girl pummel me?"

"She's not--"

"I'm not--"

"Great! Let's have some fun." Yang jogs off, and Blake isn't sure if she should be mad or glad that they're now sporting matching blushes. She clears her throat, Faunus ears flicking awkwardly due to her nerves.

"I hope you enjoy what I have to offer--not that I'm offering anything like--" Weiss's tiny giggle stops her, and Blake swears her heart skips a beat at the sound. She wants to hear more, especially when it's accompanied by that radiant smile. It gives enough confidence to wink. "Enjoy the show, princess." Blake says, the nickname slipping easily from her lips. She doesn't stick around long enough to see Weiss's reaction, psyching herself up for playing.

As she plays, Blake is focused on the game, though she does catch the occasional glimpse of Weiss watching her. The knowledge that those sharp eyes are observing her as closely as she likely scans everything and everyone else gives Blake a surge of confidence. It's not recklessness that drives her as she moves around, but freedom to fall into something--someone new.

And when Yang finally calls for an end, Blake is smiling wide. Her friend is conversing with a teammate. Meanwhile, she's sweaty but still feeling adrenaline coursing through her for a different reason as she turns to the approaching woman. Blake is just energized enough to blurt out the first thing on her mind.

"I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

A brilliant blush quickly spreads across Weiss's face at that, though she does an admirable job of acting like it isn't obviously there. She huffs then rolls her eyes while crossing her arms for extra effect. "Where else was I supposed to look?"

"Well..." Blake gestures to her best friend. "What about my teammate?"

Weiss purses her lips, as if considering that, and Blake hates how her attention is immediately drawn there. "She is...certainly an option, but you've managed to capture my attention more." Blake's heart skips a beat at that, and she swallows before speaking again.

"Have I captured enough to earn a date?"

Weiss stares for a few moments, and Blake can feel her heartbeat rise with the subtle upward curve of her lips. "You have. How does dinner sound?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Blake would've complained about having to shower for a second time if she wasn't doing it for a second date. What she definitely doesn't complain about is her date opening her hotel room door and rendering her momentarily speechless with a backless silver dress. If this is what she can look forward to by taking chances, then she figures she should take more in the future. When she is able to talk again, Blake supposes honesty is the best policy.

"You look amazing tonight."

Weiss's smile is just as amazing, and Blake is fortunate enough to confirm that their lips fit together quite well hours later.

a/n: this was so ridiculously fun. thank you for the prompt, and i hope you enjoyed!

#anonymous #rwby monochrome #monochrome rwby #checkmating #asks #monochrome #weiss schnee #blake belladonna

51 notes · View notes

melmac78 · 4 years ago

Note

Care taking prompt: Gordon bandaging/stitching up Scott’s wounds?

Story injury maker is based on this green machine. The other item on right is an old icebox, aka refrigerator.

I wish I had a pic of a fully intact one, but the one I saw at the Trade Days yesterday that was restored is too small for the story. They’re fairly uncommon now, and wanted a reference for readers who may have never seen one.

For the record, I remember these being around in places as late as early 1990s. The few around now are also repurposed. Hope you enjoy:

••••••

“This is embarrassing.”

"I know Scott..." said Gordon as he assisted his oldest brother in Thunderbird Two's bay.

Scott shook his head. "No, more than embarrassing - this is ridiculous. I knew smoking could be bad for your health, but..."

Any thoughts were cut off with a sharp hiss when Gordon situated his brother onto a cot in the Sickbay to assess the injury.

The aquanaut scoffed slightly. "Second hand cigarette pack vending machines are even worse," he finished with a smirk as he started cutting away the neoprene around his brother's left calf.

Scott rolled his eyes at the bad joke. Thunderbirds one and two had to go to a rescue at a retro restaurant created by Francois Lemaire.

The restaurant was the peak of sophistication - two stories tall, featuring a variety of antiques from the 1950s to '70s.

A work of art for the high class tastes - including dinner.

Unfortunately for International Rescue - Lemaire didn't pay attention to the fact it was on top of a well known faultline, and Mother Nature showed her displeasure flatening the building with an earthquake.

The brothers were successful in rescuing everyone alive - albeit a few with injuries severe enough to require hospitalization.

Scott had finished helping Madeline, the last person inside, out of a pile of debris when an aftershock hit.

He protected her safely, but a broken cigarette vending machine fell on him.

Fortunately, the machine landed in a way it didn't crush his leg.

Unfortunately for Scott, the machine's glass window broke, slicing a 3 inch long gash in his calf.

After a bit of a struggle with the machine, freeing Scott's ankle from the slats that once stored cartons, Gordon and Madeline helped the eldest Tracy outside.

Madeline left with a couple of paramedics for a checkup.

Gordon and Scott ended up in TB2, thankful for once Francois elected to pay more attention how he nearly lost his wife than pester the Tracys.

Scott shook his head at the memory. "Seriously, how in the he... heck did Lemaire find one of those monstrosities?" he pondered outloud, before hissing l at Gordon's ministrations.

The aquanaut shrugged. "Don't know - but some folks years ago when the machines were made illegal to vend cigarettes bought then turned them into miniature art dispensers. Get a few more dollars selling postcard sized art,” he said, then whistled. "Yep. You're gonna need stitches, but you're in luck, you have the best stitcher in the world.

Scott was more concerned when he saw his brother put the needle in the ampoule for a local anesthetic. *oh no,* he thought, and paled slightly. "That's Virgil... I can wait a few minutes," he said.

"Yeah... I know he's the best, but they still need the jaws to move away that life sized replica of the Beatle’s Yellow Submarine blocking the main road," said Gordon as he tapped out the air bubbles out.

”Seriously Gords… I can wait…” said Scott, swallowing hard as the shot glistened. *Not now, not with Gordon present...* He thought, but he knew the signs. He felt light, had a feeling of dread, compounded with old memories...

To his dismay, his brother didn’t listen. “No you can’t. It’s a deep gash, and Virgil will have both our hides if you pass out from blood loss,” said the blonde bluntly.

He then turned back. "Now lie back Sc...."

The aquanaut froze slightly when he saw Scott staring at the needle, pale as a sheet and start to sway. "Scott..." he said warily, only to see his brother's eyes go blank and he listed to the side.

“Woah!” Gordon immediately caught his brother before he fell off the cot. He put the shot down and assisted his older brother flat onto his back. "Easy there bro," he said gently to the eldest as Scott started to come back around.

"'M fine..." said Scott muzzily.

"Sure, and that cigarette machine hit you with feathers," teased the younger man as he checked his brother's pulse. He sighed in relief to hear the older man snort in disgust, and once satisfied Scott wasn’t going to fall out on him, continued. "Blood or needle?"

"Huh?"

"Which one made you faint?”

“I did not…”

“Scott, seriously, you did: briefly” said Gordon gently. Seeing Scott wince in embarrassment, and pain, The aquanaut continued. “I’m not going to make fun - promise, but I need to know the cause because I'd rather like to know how to help.”

The eldest gave a faint blush. "Needle," he said. "Can give shots no problem, but..."

Gordon gave a half smile. "Getting them isn't such?" he said, and Scott nodded.

“Bad doctor checkup when I was in first grade. Complete accident, but gave me nightmares and a lasting fear. Virgil remembered my blackout back then though…”

"So that's why you'd rather Virgil help when you’re hurt? Didn't want us to know of a phobia?"

The raven haired man nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, don't know what's more embarrassing - getting cut by an antique cancer stick machine or fainting from a shot," said Scott, expecting a tease.

He was thankful he was lying down for what came next.

"Neither," chided Gordon.

“Huh?”

"Seriously there's nothing wrong with accidents or fears - besides a potential medical worry."

A confused Scott started to open his mouth as the younger man continued. "But there will be another one if I don't start stitching this, so stay laying down," Gordon said, pulling out a small stuffed toy and putting it in Scott's hands. "This should help."

Scott took the item in his hand and looked at it. "A sea turtle plushie," he stated perplexed, looking at the item. It was about 3 inches long, two inches wide with a swirly tie-dye printed shell. "Never seen this before.”

“I know, I keep Surfer in my baldric most of the time.”

“Ok… but what is, um ‘Surfer’ for?"

Gordon chuckled. "To keep people distracted, and I see that he worked his charms again," he said. Seeing his brother's confusion, he continued. "Gave you the shot - should numb your leg in a couple of minutes.”

Scott chuckled in relief. It was a distraction all right as he traced a pattern on the toy. “So, where did he come from?”

The aquanaut then paused for thought, growing a bit more somber. "I got it from Penny and Parker shortly after the Chaos Crew put me in the hospital."

Scott tilted his head, curious for more as Gordon checked his brother's leg.

Finding it was numbed - Scott was not reacting, started stitching the wound.

The aquanaut, sensing his brother's persistent look wanting for more, continued. "I never told any of you this - but I have a vague memory of coming to in my 'Bird and something sharp cutting through my broken arm."

“But nothing pierced your uniform,” said Scott, remembering the day his brother was lying unconscious in the bed he was now using. He was thankful though: based on what few photos EOS captured of the rescue, some items came too close to finishing the Chaos Crew’s job.

Scott shook off the memory, and saw the aquanaut nod as he started another stitch. "Yeah, I know that now - it was the actual break, but I think in my semiconscious state, I thought it was a knife stabbing me in the crook," he said. "The memory stuck so badly in my head that during a simple blood test in the hospital I fainted."

“Now hold up... they didn’t say you...”

"Well, I am adult you know: doctor/patient confidentiality. Especially as you are a bad enough smother hen without more fuel,” he said, and seeing Scott’s unimpressed look, continued. “Penny and Parker unfortunately were visiting when that spell occurred.

“I was embarrassed - thought when they came back Parker would tease me and Penny do her polite ignoring it,” the aquanaut continued, starting on the last stitch. “But, to my surprise, they gave me the turtle. Said if I ever was in pain or having issues with a shot, hold it, and know that there were people who loved you no matter your faults. Didn’t have a repeat then or since."

Scott started seeing where this story was going. "So you don't see my phobia as a fault?" he inquired.

"No Scott. You're human, like all of us, just sometimes you need a reminder," he said as he finished tying the last knot and started to bandage the stitches. "Personally, I think as ‘Surfer’ worked for you, as you didn't feel that shot, or flinch once from the stitches, maybe you should consider your own.”

Scott was about to speak when Virgil contacted them, saying he was returning back to the Thunderbird and that John was remote piloting One back to base.

"John better not ding my ‘Bird. That'd be worse than fainting and being cut up by a cigarette machine," said Scott, distracted from the talk about plushies.

Gordon chuckled. "At least Virgil isn't considering taking Thunderbird One and converting it to a miniature art dispensing machine. He talked about buying Lemaire’s… but I think it’s to scrap it into a weird recycled art sculpture after cutting you. Double when he eyed the icebox," he said, then laughed more when Scott rolled his eyes. "Now, lie back and rest. I'll stay here and keep you company so Virgil doesn't be a Smother Rooster."

"Papa bear," corrected Scott.

"OK, papa bear ... but same reason," he said, then grew sober, as he tapped the turtle, which Scott handed back. "And Scott, just remember, two things: 1. I won't tell anyone else about your phobia, and 2. Even if the others find out, we'll always love you - warts and all."

The eldest nodded and let himself relax into the comfort of the bed as Virgil flew them back back to Tracy Island...

When he later on woke up safe and sound in the Island's infirmary, brought there to double check the stitches and ensure no infection, he found his left hand was resting on something soft, and fluffy.

Picking it up, he found it was a tie dyed octopus. Just the right size to put in his baldric... just in case.

"Thanks Gordon," he said, smiling.

#thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #scott tracy #tsarinatorment #care prompts #TAG Fanfiction #Thunderbirds Are Go Fanfiction #TAG Fanfic

28 notes · View notes

bisexualcrowley · 4 years ago

Text

Stay

Pairing: Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After a bad fight with the Winchesters, you find an unexpected source of comfort in the king of hell

Content/warnings: Angst, cursing, bit of fluff towards the end

Word count: 1,153

Requested by anon

It was still dark when your car door slammed shut outside the bunker, the low rumble of the engine the only sound as you drove down the empty road.

You didn’t know where you were headed as the dark silhouettes of trees blurred into a town, into stretches of farmland and then back into trees again, all you really knew was that you wanted to drive, to get as far away from the place that had become your home.

Trembling hands clutched the steering wheel as you sped down the seemingly never-ending highway with knuckles white from pressure. You were surprised how long you lasted before you found your eyes wandering to the dusty photo taped to the car’s dashboard, a picture of you arm in arm with Cas and the Winchesters at Bobby’s place, their smiling faces on most days a reminder of a happy memory, where tonight they brought a wave of resentment and misery.

“MotherFUCKERS” You shouted, slamming your hand against the grip of the steering wheel as you tried desperately to hold back tears. You weren’t going to cry, you just weren’t, you repeated internally again and again until it was ingrained in the backs of your eyelids, replaying like a broken record.

“The Winchesters again, I presume?” The quiet, raspy voice of the king of hell was the last thing you had expected to hear tonight, and you absolutely hadn’t expected him to just show up in your car in the middle of the night, the action shocking you enough to lose control of the car momentarily, the wheels swerving off the road before the demon’s quick hand shot over to steady the wheel. “Woah there pumpkin, just me”

“What the fuck Crowley, you scared the shit out of me” You breathed, tearing your eyes off the road to glance over at your friend, who had seated himself comfortably in the passenger seat and as always, donned a perfectly tailored suit. The only thing differentiating this Crowley from the Crowley you usually knew was the expression of concern painting his face, the demon apparently making no effort to disguise it.

“Sorry love, I know I shouldn’t just pop in, especially this time of night but I heard you got into a bit of a spat with moose and squirrel, I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He spoke softly, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that he was fiddling nervously with his hands, an action you had never seen from the always so cocky man.

You felt your eyes swell with tears at his words, and in a discrete attempt to hold them back you took a slow breath, another, but another glance at Crowley had the walls you had built up shattering. Your body shook as a choked sob escaped your lips, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

The demon paused, at first in shock then quickly turning back to concern, and though he hated to admit it, affection. Damn these feelings, why do I care so bloody much about a hunter for shit’s sake.

“... Do you want to talk about what happened?” He asked cautiously, internally cursing at his previous thought. You bloody shitstick, you care about them because they’re worth caring for.

You whimpered again, bit your lip to try and stifle the noise but it was futile, all your bottled up emotions taking right now to fly out all at once much to your dismay.

“N-not right now Crowley, just please, please stay, I don’t want to be alone right now ” You sniffled, silently thanking your voice for holding steady as you took another shaky breath.

Crowley nodded, and without a word he reached over and placed a hand over your knee. It was such a simple gesture, just a lingering touch but it had you sobbing all over again, this time not just from pain but mostly from the comfort you found in the motion.

Without giving it a second thought you let your right hand drift from it’s grip on the steering wheel to rest on top of Crowley’s. If it were any other time the both of you would have laughed at how he immediately turned his palm upwards and threaded his fingers through your own, giving your hand a soft squeeze before letting his thumb drift over your wrist.

Neither of you needed to speak to know what the action meant, and in the back of your mind you were grateful for the unspoken bond you shared, because God knows you wouldn’t have been able to find the right words had you chosen to talk.

The demon watched as the corner of your mouth curved up in a weak smile, your breathing slowing from shuddering gasps back to normal as the seconds ticked by, and he offered you a smile too.

By the time you chose to pull in to a motel the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, and Crowley was passed out in his seat, hand still resting comfortably in yours.

The sight brought a tired grin to your face, the king of hell curled up peacefully in the passenger side of a beaten down old car. You didn’t know demons even did sleep until now, but it was a more than welcome discovery, and you quickly pulled out your phone and snapped a picture before undoing your seatbelt and giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Hey, um, I’m gonna get a room and get some sleep if I can. If you want you can go now, sorry that I kept you around for so long” You winced internally at the unfortunate attempt at a joke, but to your surprise the demon chuckled, opening his eyes slowly and peering up at you.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, I’m more than happy to stick around for as long as you’ll have me.”

You opened your mouth to speak but as you had expected, the words caught in your throat, so you settled on squeezing the demon’s hand again, tighter this time and full of emotion.

Crowley returned the motion, and with a warm smile he reached up and pulled your face down to his, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your fight with the Winchesters was all but forgotten by now. As a hunter you had learned to live in the moment, take the time to enjoy the little things, and this was most definitely a moment you wanted to hold on to. You felt safe in the little car, hand clasped affectionately in Crowley’s as the sun gradually rose in the sky, and it was beautiful.

#crowley #crowley x reader #crowley x reader angst #supernatural imagine #crowley supernatural #mark sheppard #crowley one shot #unspoken love #queue #gender neutral reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #non-binary reader

140 notes · View notes

lucci0la · 4 years ago

Note

what do your kinshifts feel like?

LONG ASS POST WARNING‼️

Personally I tend to notice kinshifts when my behavior and interactions with people change- I feel a very particular way about certain things, or my daydreams more often than not end up having to do with those from my canons. I miss certain people more, or my feelings suddenly change about specific people from my canon. I also tend to feel a lot less strongly about my other kins, sometimes removing them from my list just to add them back later when I feel a shift. And this may sound rancid, but when I’m in a kinshift, I tend to feel very agitated or annoyed seeing others with the same kin or feeling a strong sense of (unrightful) possessiveness seeing someone from my source being close with them. Not to say that anyone sharing a kin with me is invalid (they absolutely aren’t invalid in any way and my personal beliefs enforce that), but it’s an involuntary feeling that arises in my kinshifts. Behavior wise, there’s usually a very noticeable shift in what I do or want or my emotions.

If you’re asking about specifics of my kinshifts, I’ll just tell you what I’ve noticed!

Kakyoin :

~ My dysphoria gets stronger- not in the way of wanting to be more masculine as I’m fairly feminine, but feeling upset by any hyper feminization by those in my life (and occasionally within the fandom). There’s just a strong disconnect between myself and others emotion wise.

~ I tend to feel more passive and wear my more flowy clothing or button ups and spend more time on my hygiene, actually bothering to do things like put my damn earrings in or do my hair. I also seem to be more careful with what I eat and take care to finish any tasks and chores.

~ While my motivation for things increases, so does my will to talk to people. I speak noticeably more friendly to people (read: I’ll be really friendly casually until a full on encounter occurs, in which case, I’m shaking in my boots with uncertainty) and my tone changes drastically, so that’s always a hint. With that being said though, my words come out much more naturally and I don’t sound as much like a broken record.

~ This is literally the main thing that I noticed between kinshifts in the beginning, but in my Rohan shifts I felt a strong interest in body modifications or body art- like piercings and tattoos. In my Rohan shifts I’d have a clear feeling that I’d want some sort of tattoo or get random piercings, specifically nipple piercings, and then when I would be in my Kakyoin shift, I couldn’t not notice that I just had no will or want to alter or mark my body. This was during the time where I kept shifting back and forth between my Kakyoin and Rohan shift, which would change every (this is really a guess) 3-21 days and my feelings and sense of improvement, progression, and change were super clear to me, so it couldn’t go unnoticed. What made it even clearer to me was that the back and forth interest in body modification didn’t feel like indecisiveness, it just felt more like a flipped switch that always went back and forth to the same thoughts and feelings. I remember the thought of dying my hair being a similar feeling to body modification even though my hair color is different from canon- attempting to remedy it outside of video games with customizable characters just makes me feel like I shouldn’t.

~ SUUUPER fucking lonely. I may have more motivation to talk to people, but oh my god, I’m still painfully reluctant and shy in genuine interactions.

Rohan :

~ Usually I feel a lot more upfront with everything, and unlike in my Kakyoin shifts, I’m a bit more distant from people and tend to repeat myself if I’m not in the mood to let my words come out naturally. In other words, I’m considerably more self-focused and care more to finish my school work, usually only reading on the side instead of my Kakyoin shifts where I’m actually taking the time to do anything and everything I can to take care of myself.

~ I don’t experience much dysphoria in these shifts, if any, and lean towards form-fitting or revealing clothing. Though by revealing, I mean more that if I’m alone and at home (which I usually am) I usually just end up strolling around in an unbuttoned cardigan and my underwear so it’s not like I do it in public.

~ Even though I present myself differently with people and don’t actively pursue them much in this state, I feel a notable fondness for them. It’s not like I ever stop loving my pets or family when I’m in any of my shifts, but I’ve noticed that I think about them in a kinder light when I’m in my Rohan shifts. To put it very lightly, the family I was born into that I remember from my canon though wasn’t one that I was as close as I would’ve hoped.

~ It’s a subtle change from the Kakyoin shifts, but I tend to be happier and a bit more hopeful rather that feeling like something is missing. My memories are all and all very much happier and it makes me feel a lot more at ease in many things that I do even if I’m not actively remembering them at times.

~ I’ve admittedly been very distracted from my own kins as of late and unfortunately even let myself forget my own memories- though once I read them again (as I wrote them down) I was reminded. Aside from the attachment and interest to body modification like nipple piercings or getting tattoos, I can’t remember many more differences.

Doppio :

~ These shifts are always way shorter than the others, but I notice them very easily. They stick out like a sore thumb in my eyes. My emotions aren’t passive (in the background) in the slightest during these shifts and mostly consist of like,,, pure fucking peace. Like it’s just a strong feeling you can’t ignore.

~ I procrastinate much more and act with self-indulgence, food becomes the biggest comfort, and I lose my absolute MIND over the outdoors. Scenery of any kind (even if it’s really not that good) catches my eye in an instant and I fuckin’ lose it just trying to take pictures.

~ I’ll interact and talk with those close to me, but I don’t care to do so that much with others.

~ While I like being babied (caressed, treated with endearment, etc.) I literally cannot stand not being treated like another person. Consuming kin content for this shift in particular can make me very angry very quickly unless I get it custom made- like holy shit, call me sweet all you want to, but if I see another damn aesthetic regarding frogs or phones, I will lose my shit. It feels like saying one thing at a family meeting when you’re five and then everyone holds it over your damned head into your adulthood. It’s just a bad joke.

~ I’m pretty sure this is the one kin that I had whose canon was more fem-leaning in terms of attraction because every time I’m in the doppio shift, I just— women 💞💞💞

Johnny :

~ Honestly I don’t know how I know I’m in this shift when I am, I just am. I may have not had this shift enough to know for sure, but I just do.

Aside from all that, easier hints would be

Kakyoin: Attached to Jotaro (and Dio at times) and reacts to doubles in a very jealous way- I don’t interact, obviously, but regardless.

Rohan: Attached to Josuke for the most part, but enjoys most from part 4 and reacts to doubles with a strong feeling of disgust or annoyance, obviously still not interacting.

Doppio: Attached to no one in particular despite kin memories (regardless of my care for Donatella or Trish), but reacts to doubles more out of anger. Just as I said, I just get really angry to the point of shaking and simply try to remove myself from the situation.

Johnny: Who knows tbh lmao. I haven’t done any meditations on this one.

Like I said before, these are just involuntary feelings I get from doubles, I don’t, like, bark at or harass them or anything, they’re all just as valid as I am, but these are just differences I’ve noticed between shifts.

#otherkin #fictionkin #jjba kin

9 notes · View notes

evabellasworld · 3 years ago

Text

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 29

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

——————————————————————————————

Summary: When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

Putting on her surgical mask, Dr. Urakchaevy took a deep breath as she glanced at the surgical tube, before shifting her focus towards Tup. With his head covered in plastic foil and his eyes shut, the doctor slid him inside the machine and looked at the panels. “We’re now beginning level 1 brain scan,” she announced to Fives, who was the only one in the room. “This will only take a short while.”

As Fives gave a nod of approval, the machine scanned his brain for 30 minutes. The ARC Trooper tapped his foot on the floor as the doctor focused on his brain condition. From what she had gathered so far, his brain scan was blue, showing that he was slipping towards his deathbed.

This is not good , her teeth chattered. Somehow, I couldn’t find any lumps in his brain, and yet, Tup is unconscious. How is this possible?

“Is everything alright, Doc?” Fives wondered, noticing her hands trembling on the panels.

Dr. Urakchaevy nodded, pressing her lips. “I’ll have to raise the brain scan to level 2. There’s nothing I could find on the surface of his brain.”

“Alright, Doc, you can raise it up to level two,” he gave a thumbs up. “I hope he’s alright.”

Let’s hope he does, she let out a sigh, as she performed another brain scan on Tup, hoping to dig deeper. Another half an hour has passed, and Dr. Urakchaevy felt her sweat dripping from her forehead, despite the air-conditioning in the room.

Considering Tup was the first clone she had treated, she wasn’t knowledgeable in their biology. The only thing she knows about clone troopers was the fact that they fought for the Republic, even though it had been crumbled by the Empire. She doesn’t see the point of the conflict, but Dr. Urakchaevy has to perform her duty to save her patients.

As the machine beeped, the doctor checked on her panel with a gleam painted on her lips, only for her shoulders to slump towards the results. Is this machine broken or what? Do I need to re-scan just to make sure I find something inside Tup?

“Did you find anything, Doc?” his voice turned agitated. “Please tell me you found something, Doc.”

Dr. Urakchaevy remained silent as she stared at the surgical pod, wondering if she could raise the level of the machine. She knows the risk, and she’s not sure whether she would like the result. The worst-case scenario she could think of was the side effects of the radiation, which was nausea, fever, and vomiting. But it was the only way if she wanted a fast result.

“It’s still the same result as the first scan, unfortunately,” she reported, turning towards him. “I’m afraid I have no choice but to perform a Level 5 atomic scan.”

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Fives, raising his eyebrows. “Is it dangerous?”

“It’s full of radiation and Tup might experience side effects, but it’s the only way I could find a lump inside his brain, though the chances are rather small. Are you okay with that, Fives?”

Fives tilted his head upwards as he pondered for a moment. I can’t just refuse his surgery and let him die. I’ll never forgive myself if I made the wrong decision.

“If the Level 5 atomic scan means saving my brother, then you need to do it,” he told her. “I came here to save Tup, and I’m gonna bring him back to base, safe and sound, so do what you have to, Doc. Go with the Level 5 atomic scan if you must.”

Dr. Urakchaevy gave him a small smile. “You’re a caring brother, Fives. Now go wait outside with your sister, Yara. I’m sure Thonda is done patching her up by now.”

“Will Tup be okay, Doc?” his voice quivered. “I don’t want to lose him, really.”

“He’ll be alright,” assured Dr. Urakchaevy, holding his hand. “I promise you. He’ll walk out of this room and act as if nothing had happened to him. He’ll drink with you and Yara and go back to his usual self.”

“In case he doesn’t make it, can I say my last words to him?”

“Fives, Tup will be fine,” she said, opening the door for him. “Besides, this will only take a few minutes, so don’t worry. I have faith in your younger brother.”

Without saying a word, Fives stepped out of the surgical room and held his breath when he found Yara sitting all by herself, munching a plate full of chocolate chip cookies. Cracking a smile, he tiptoed towards her and slapped his arms on her shoulders, making her choke on her food.

“Bitch, I told you not to sneak up to me like that,” she cussed with her mouth full, kicking his shin. “I could have died of a heart attack, you know.”

“Well, it was funny,” he burst into laughter, as he sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her shoulder. “You could have seen the look on your face. It was so ugly.”

“Shut up, Fives. At least I’m more good-looking than you.”

“Says who? Everyone knows I’m the most handsome man among the Grand Army of the Republic.”

Yara sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Yuck, you’re ugly as fuck.”

“No, you’re ugly.”

“Fuck you, Fives,” Yara shoved his shoulders, her other hand gripping on the plate of cookies. “I hate you so much.”

“Well, fuck you too, Yara,” Fives imitated her voice, as he snatched away her cookies from her grasp. “Also, you ate too much of these. Save some for me, will you?”

She crossed her arms, her lips pouting. “Give me back my cookies, dickhead. They’re mine.”

He shook his head, stuffing one in his mouth. “Hey, sharing is caring, okay? Besides, it’s been a while since I had authentic food, anyway.”

“Tell me about it. I miss drinking margaritas from 79’s. It was the best drink I could ever have, you know. I wonder what’s their secret?”

“Maybe they made it with love,” Fives jokes, leaning on his seat. “Also, the music was glorious at the club. I always enjoyed the songs that the DJ played on the dance floor, especially the song Groovy. That was my all-time favourite song.”

“But somehow, someone always bested you on the dance floor,” Yara snarked. “And that someone is sitting right next to you. Guess who it is?”

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Yara. I beat you one time and you were sulking the next day.”

“Yeah, exactly. You only beat me one time, Fives. The rest of the time we spent at 79’s, I always held a record on the dance floor, aside from Lisa, of course.”

“God, I miss those days. Everything was simple back then. Now, it feels like we’re stressing our future like a bunch of old men waiting for death.”

“I know, Fives. I miss the days when the only reason I cried was because I failed the simulation. Now, I cry because everyone we know was killed in front of us, and we don’t even know whether we’re next in line.”

“And I miss the day where the only reason we’re happy was because we passed the simulation. Now, I can only be happy because I lived to fight another day, though I wished I could join the rest of our fallen siblings instead.”

Yara hummed to herself. “I know, Fives. Honestly, when this war is over, I just want to walk away from all of this. I want to settle down somewhere and find someone to love, like Commander Fox. He and Riyo are so happy together and I want to be like them.”

“So, you’re looking for someone like those male leads from your favourite rom-com?” smiled Fives. “And how many kids are you planning to have?”

“First of all, I want a guy who is kind and sweet and secondly, I want at least four kids, doesn’t matter what gender they are.”

“Four kids? Well, that’s a lot, to be honest.” “I want to shower all my love on my kids and accept them for who they are, no matter what,” Yara expressed her hopes and dreams. “And I also want them to have a better life than I did. Since I fought in a war, I want my kids to live a peaceful life, without worrying about a single thing.”

“Sounds like a pleasant life,” Fives said, placing an empty plate beside him. “Honestly, I would like to have that kind of life, too. If only I could find someone like that.”

Before Yara could say something, Dr. Urakchaevy walked out of the surgical room with tears of shame in her eyes. Fives stood up from his seat, waiting for her to speak. “So, did the surgery went well?”

She bobbed her head with hesitation, her fingers fidgeting. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“We would like to hear the good news,” Fives replied with his brows furrowed.

“Okay then, the good news is that the surgery went well, and we found a tumour inside his brain,” she informed him, showing the evidence she extracted. “I’m not sure what kind of tumour it is, but I can do my research on it.”

“That’s great to hear, Doc,” Yara beamed. “But then, what’s the bad news?”

“Tup didn’t make it,” Dr. Urakchaevy broke the news to them. “I’m so sorry, guys. I did everything I could to save him, but somehow, his heart rate stopped.”

Fives’ face contorted as he dropped to his knees, frozen. Yara could not utter a single word from her mouth as tears flowed on her cheeks, hugging her knees.

How are we going to face Rex after this?

2 notes · View notes