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prismaticfaery · 2 years ago

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Little Bunny

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Never in a million years would Captain Price think that he'd have a chance at a family, but with how dangerous his profession was and his chances of becoming a father becoming a reality, you and him have to learn the hard way that moving on is the best you both can do.

**TW: Pregnancy, vomiting, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, labor, childbirth, anxiety, panic, angst, unrequited love. (Forgive me if I miss any!)

Rating: Mature

This is not short, it's 10K words! Also, don't expect too much of a happy ending!

Part Two

A/N: I was debating posting this for so long out of fear it was trash, please be gentle with me! To add, termination is always going to be your choice and it’s okay to consider that option!

Fluorescent lights hung overhead, your eyes poorly adjusting to the harsh lights as you fumbled with a pen nervously between your fingers. You had filled out a small packet of papers on a clipboard, the receptionist telling you that your doctor would see you soon and to make sure every bit of information was filled in. When you had initially told the receptionist that it would only be you when she asked if you were accompanied by a partner for a confirmation of pregnancy ultrasound, she gave you a look, and you knew she was silently judging you for your situation.

“Y/N?” You hear a nurse call out while propping a door open, breaking you out of your trance.

It was two weeks ago when you had realized your period was late, your work schedule and general hecticness in your life made you suspect that it was stress at first but when your period never showed even a week later, and with having a pretty normal cycle, you darted to the commissary on base and bought two boxes of pregnancy tests– two different brands to make sure. Yeah, you had been more tired lately, and you had lost your appetite more than a few times, but you knew that those could also be normal premenstrual symptoms.

With your uniform pants and panties down to your ankles, you held two different pregnancy test in your hands, the trembling in your arms and hands from fear only became worse when the test slowly turned positive. With a harsh breath in, you hold it for a moment, fresh tears stinging your eyes when you finally release your breath. Your body felt frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. Do you tell him now? Do you wait? You were on birth control and never missed a dose, but of course, it’s not always foolproof. You weren’t even with the baby’s father on an exclusivity level, only really depending on each other for comfort and pleasure when you both needed it– not to mention he was your Captain, your superior.

A hiccup leaves your throat, the metaphorical golf ball stuck in your throat nearly choking you as you place your head in your hands, those fresh tears gathering in the corners falling into your hands. You were active duty in the SAS and newly recruited into Task Force 141, though just a Sergeant, and you were living in the barracks, which was not the place to bring a baby up in, nor was it even allowed. You weren’t prepared for a baby to come along, and you knew that your Captain had no intention of having children while he always had a target on himself. You knew he wouldn’t take this news well.

“It looks like you’re reaching nine weeks, strong heartbeat at 168 bpm– see it here?” the doctor pointed to the tiny fluttering heart on the ultrasound monitor.

“I do,” you smile lightly, your eyes never leaving the small floating jelly bean that jerked and wiggled inside of your body.

“Do you have support at home?” The doctor asked, her eyes meeting yours with a certain softness, knowing that you checked your marital status as “single”.

“Well I have my mother, but as for the other half of the child, he won’t be very happy,” you say, sitting up and adjusting the paper blanket draped across your nude bottom half.

“Reach out to your mother, okay? Best of luck with everything,” the doctor takes her leave, giving you the privacy to clean up and put your uniform back on.

You sat for a moment, the silence deafening save for the nurses speaking at their station outside the exam room door. You peek over at the ultrasound monitor, which had been paused on a picture of your tiny baby. Your heart ached, and you found yourself struggling to turn your head away, until a knock at the door sounded.

“Here are your papers, there’s also a script for prenatal vitamins and some brochures,” the nurse smiles, handing you the small stack, “take care of yourself.”

The door closes behind the nurse and you decide that it’s time to finally get dressed. You wipe the ultrasound gel from your abdomen and lower region, and silently slip your clothing back on, your eyes never leaving the monitor until you notice a small black and white photo had been printed and attached to your after appointment papers. Your heart skipped, quickly tearing the photo from off of the stack to hold in your hands, your little baby’s side profile had been captured and you could see the tiny arms and legs scrunched up to its body.

Checking the time on your watch, you pick up speed, remembering that you had a debriefing on a Task Force affair with your Captain soon and you were definitely going to be late arriving at it. You knew he wouldn’t be happy with your lack of punctuality, but you had proof that you were tied up in a last minute affair.

Once arriving back at base, you could see the familiar form of Soap who was also a late arrival to the debriefing, but you knew it was because of his poor time management skills, or he was just waking up from one of his naps. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he spins around in a wild fashion.

“Good grief, ya scared the shite out of me,” Soap held a hand to his chest.

“Sorry, I was just curious if we could walk together to the debrief,” you question, your eyes pleading for him to agree as to save yourself from being individually called out by your Captain.

Soap nods, his longer legs falling into step with yours, “you’re not usually late to these things, something must have had you tied up,” Soap scratches his head, yawning into his unoccupied hand.

“Oh you know, women’s issues,” you shrugged, Soap wincing at your words.

“Ah, I don’t think you need to explain,” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he was treading into territory he was very familiar with, having to be around female soldiers– especially with being around you so much– taught him more than enough.

Opening the door to the small debriefing room, you could see Ghost leaning back in his chair, one leg over the other while his arms crossed against his chest, his usual black balaclava covering his face. Gaz was in the seat adjacent to Ghost, his face blank– an almost bored expression showing.

Price’s body language was showing very clear annoyance as he watched you and Soap enter, the awkwardness in the room causing you to fumble into your seat, the loud scraping of the chair leg against the tile floor made Price audibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You two are late, don’t let this happen again or I’ll have you assigned cleaning duty for a week,” Price points his finger first at Soap, then at you, your eyes casting downwards in embarrassment.

As the debriefing went on, you could feel the familiar crystalline blue eyes of your Captain steal glances of you. You make yourself small and scarce in the meeting, your arms folding across your upper body and your body slinking into your chair. You felt strange about having such a huge secret being hidden away from your Captain who was more than deserving to know about it, but you needed time to formulate a plan on how you were going to carry out telling him. It would be better to tell him sooner than later though because you could be deployed at any time and that would be a dangerous situation for you and the life that was growing inside of you.

“Ghost, you and Gaz will be going to Russia for some recon, I need intel– any intel on where they’re moving next,” Price nods his head in Ghost’s direction, handing Gaz a debriefing packet on his and Ghost’s deployment that they’ll go over together at a later time.

You feel your body tense as a very heavy wave of nausea washes over you, Soap noticing your eyes fluttering and your skin becoming ashen and shiny from sweat. Pushing his seat out with the back of his legs, Soap rushes over to the trash bin, knowing all too well you wouldn’t make it yourself. He shoves the bin into your lap where you attempt to shield yourself with your arms as you empty the contents of your stomach. Gaz winces, and Ghost is pretty much unbothered but keeping a watchful eye on you.

“You alright?” Price askes as he makes his way over to your hunched over form.

“No, I really need to go,” you heave a sigh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Leave that, I’ll have someone clean it,” Price nods, motioning for you to leave.

Long having discarded your uniform, you sat on your bed, staring at the white wall across the room. So many thoughts flooded your brain, and you felt like you were losing control of everything in your life all in the span of a few hours. You were young, and still inexperienced in life, halfway to reaching your thirties. The dried yet still sticky feeling of tears coated your cheeks and you felt like your heart would leap out of your chest every time you even thought of mentioning this pregnancy to Price. How the hell was he going to take it?

You knew that it would go two ways most likely– one: he’d walk away and break all contact, or two: he would tell you that he would support you and the baby, but would not be present.

A knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts, your voice cracking as you told the visitor to come inside. Price’s tall body stands in the doorway for a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him softly. He knew it was risky coming into your room so early in the evening but he was willing to take that chance.

“Everything alright? Soap said you were dealing with something– didn’t know the pain got so bad for you during that time of the month,” Price sits beside you on your bed, his taller form making yours tiny in comparison.

“I’m alright, I just need to rest,” your voice is small with a tinge of exhaustion, playing into Soap’s assumptions of you being on your period.

“You been crying, love?” Price’s large hand caresses your neck, his thumb dancing across your cheek soothingly.

“A little, yeah,” you smile softly, leaning into his touch.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really, if that’s okay?” Your breath catches in your throat, you knew damn well you should tell him, but fear froze you in place.

“I understand, hormones and all that lot can be difficult,” Price sighs, the hand that rested on your neck falling back into his lap.

You suck in a breath as his words repeat in your head. Did he already know? Or did he have an inkling of an idea? No, that wasn’t possible.

You feel the familiar burn of bile rising into your throat, your legs making a mad dash for the bathroom across your small barracks room. Heaving what little was left in your stomach, you could feel your Captain’s cool hands gather your loose hair from your sweat covered neck and forehead. As you breath in and out heavily, a soft cry escaping your lips from the horrifying nausea pounding through your body, you feel Price’s free hand rub soothing circles along your back.

“You’re alright, sweet girl, let it out,” the deep gravel in his voice was soothing.

You gag and heave one last time before you begin to feel like the nausea is subsiding, Price’s arm reaching over to flush the toilet and then bring your body back to lay against him as he leaned back against the tub. Your shorter legs are pulled up to your chest as his thick arms engulf you.

“I’m pregnant,” a sob escapes your throat, a trembling hand brought up to your now teary eyes, wiping away any stray tears that escape.

Everything goes silent around the two of you, and you could tell John was formulating his response and keeping himself from reacting in a way he would regret. His arms go slack around you and you begin sobbing even harder at his action.

“Did you not take your pills?” Was all he could muster asking.

“I did, I did-!” you cry, turning your body to face him now.

“Y/N, you know what this could do to us– to me, right?” Price’s voice was dangerously low now, a look of pure anger painted on his face.

You knew all too well what this situation could do to you both. Demotion, dishonorable discharge, enemies who had a target on both of you– but more specifically him, would know that there is something precious and innocent that could be easily taken away.

Price goes quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks to himself for a moment, “I think you should consider your options.”

“So that’s it? You’re putting all of this on me?” your heart begins to sink into your stomach, knowing damn well that this was his way of telling you that he wanted to cut all contact and act like this situation never happened.

“What will you have me do, Y/N, hm?” He points a finger at himself, the tip poking into his hardened chest.

“At least consider options with me– it takes two-!”

“No, Y/N. No,” Price rises to his feet, leaving you in a puddle of anxiousness on the bathroom floor, your eyes frantically watching his hand swing the bathroom door open.

“Please don’t–,” you reach an arm out to him, but he’s gone so quickly from your sight.

You find out the next day that you were pardoned from work, formation, and PT for a full month, knowing that Price did this to allow you time to think about what to do with the pregnancy. You hardly left your room, and when you did, it was usually just to eat and do laundry. Soap tried to stop you a few times to catch up and ask how you were doing, but you instead offered a smile and a quick, “I’ve gotta go,”. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried out of his mind for you, sad eyes watching you disappear down the hallways. He was often your partner in missions and would offer a helping hand if and when you needed it. Maybe he just needed to wait for you to come to him? He would always wait for you.

You stared at your discharge papers for days, the blanks filled out neatly, and the pen you used sat atop the thin packet. You were sure that this is what you wanted, and this would save John from the possibility of having everything he worked so hard for to be snatched away. No one would know he was the father of the baby, and you weren’t going to make him be something he didn’t want to be. You wouldn’t inform him of the gender, due date, name– anything, if he didn’t want to know, in which you knew he wouldn’t.

You wanted to make this as easy as possible– slowly cutting off your military life, and going back home to make a new life for yourself and for your baby. Your mother was in agreement, telling you to come home and to get yourself back on your feet, that she’d be happy to watch over the baby while you worked. You would have your childhood room back and your mother’s cooking, and that was enough to put a smile on your face even for just a moment through the rough patch. She knew that having support was the most important thing for you.

You gather the papers in your hands, tapping them on the counter to even them out. Taking a moment to think one last time if this was truly what you wanted, you let out a shaky breath, leaving your room and making your way to John’s office, your fingers grasping the papers tight enough to wrinkle them.

You knock three times on Price’s door, waiting for him to call out an answer for you to enter, “come in,” you finally hear him say.

He straightens in his desk chair, the air in the room becoming thick and tense. He looks to be stressed out, his hand soon covering his forehead as he attempts to relax. You sit in one of the two chairs across from his desk, sliding your filled out discharge paperwork over to him. Price’s vascular arm reaches over to grab the papers, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. At first, he thinks that these are adoption papers for the baby, in which he would sign the parts that said “father’s information”, but he soon realizes that’s not what he was given.

“You’re leaving the military?” his eyes darted up to look at you.

“I won’t make this difficult. You don’t need to know a thing if you don’t want to, you won’t need to be present, just sign those papers and we’re gone.”

“The Task Force needs you,” Price’s voice falters, his usual soft tone you were so used to is back.

“I want to raise this baby, John– our baby,” you feel yourself spiraling, your hormones making it difficult to keep your composure.

You could see his eyes flutter closed, his body shaking as he releases a large huff from his lungs, “you’ll be discharged immediately. I don’t want to see a trace of you left in that room.”

“Yes, sir.”

You had very little to pack up in your room, your mother having come from London to help you carry anything heavy. Soap had stopped by your room after hearing the news that you were being discharged. His thoughts soared wildly as he watched your mother pack away your things as you carried out items to her car, thinking of how sick you must have been to have to leave the military immediately. You must have been in need of serious medical treatment to just drop everything and leave. His form standing outside your door caught your mother’s attention, making his entire body tense. Turning on his heel, he prayed to whatever or whomever that your mother hadn’t seen the stray tear fall down his cheek.

Your civilian clothing felt a little tight around your lower abdominal area, your belly poking out slightly, bloating from the pregnancy hormones and constipation since the baby was still very tiny to make an appearance quite yet. You were half tempted to keep your jeans unbuttoned but with it being so hot out, your shirt was cropped right above your belly button. You had to keep cool somehow and you weren’t sacrificing your style for your growing belly. You and your belly bump can be stylish together.

“Is this the last of it, darling?” Your mother questions, placing the last box in the trunk of her sedan.

“Yes,” you answer, looking around one last time before opening the passenger door of the car and slipping inside.

Your eyes caught a glance of Price, who was outside on the training field with a group of soldiers. He was looking right at you, and it sent a flood of different emotions to wash over you. Tears stung your eyes, your throat swelling as you tried your best to keep yourself from falling apart. You were prepared to do this whole parenthood thing alone, but you were hoping that you would at least have him present for the sake of the child– not even for the sake of you because you weren’t what mattered in this situation.

You had fallen madly for him but your job had made it very apparent that feelings for your superior could be a whirlwind of repercussions to pay. You had to play it safe in the shadows. John would have been a liar if he said he hadn’t also felt the same feelings as you, but kept it no more than a hook-up every once in a while. This was the most difficult decision you could ever make– deciding to walk away.

It had taken you weeks to acclimate to civilian life after being in the military for so long. You were freshly 18 and had just graduated secondary school when you joined the Royal Army, just entering your mid 20’s when you passed selection for the SAS, Price was the first to congratulate you, shaking your hand and offering you a warm smile, the creases in the corners of his eyes sending you into a tizzy– goodness he was so handsome. His face was shaved then however. You loved his chops when he started growing them out, your eyes catching his own as he carefully combed through the thick auburn beard hairs with a sandalwood comb in the middle of his debriefings.

You sat at the dining room table of your childhood home, scanning over the words on your laptop screen. You had gotten a new job and you were going to start working remotely from the house, which was perfect because of the baby coming around February. You had since gotten into a new doctor’s office, your mother accompanying you for support. Her face lit up when she saw the baby floating around on the screen, their little arms covering the front of their face. You had cried more than you liked and your nausea had increased dramatically once leaving the base. You thought it may have been from the stress of leaving your old life behind intermingling with the pregnancy hormones.

Your mother was a huge support, telling you that you could take time to yourself before you found a civilian job. You waved her off however, saying that she had no business having to pick up the slack for her adult child. She had already taken to knitting small items for the baby, and your favorite was the small floppy bunny beanie that was a light cream color, the inside of the ears a dusty pink.

“Have any of your military friends contacted you since leaving?” Your mother asks, peeking up from the cream colored blanket she had started days previous.

“Soap has, but he ended up being deployed before I could answer. He probably thinks I’m dying with having left so suddenly when I was experiencing morning sickness during debrief,” the sigh that left your lips was a sad one, as Soap was someone you had grown quite close to over the years of being in the same barracks and then being on the Task Force together for a short period of time.

“Well hopefully you can remain friends,” the nimble fingers of your mother placed a stitch marker into the blanket.

“One can hope,” you lie.

You were entering your 20th week of pregnancy– halfway to the finish line is what your mother said to you that morning. Her excitement was easy to spot as today was the day you would find the gender of the baby out. Your belly had grown some, but not enough for it to be immediately recognized as a baby bump. Maybe you just ate an entire pizza?

Drinking the last bit of orange juice, to which your mother swore would make the baby more lively in your belly during the ultrasound, you look over the texts in your phone, Soap’s name popping up suddenly. It catches you off guard when you open the text, seeing a picture of Ghost and Price out on the firing range, Price’s hat sitting on top of Ghost’s head as he lay prone on the ground with a sniper rifle. Price had his arms crossed and was seeming to refuse being in the photo, his hand covering his face. Soap hadn’t sent so much as a “hi” in weeks, and you had hoped that he just moved on from the thought of you staying in touch with your old roots. Closing out of the text app, you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter, your heart dropping. You just won’t reply, just like you had been doing before.

Patiently waiting in the exam room at the midwife’s office, you placed a hand on your belly, hoping that soon you would finally be able to feel movement. Your midwife said it’s normal to not have movements until now or even a little later but you were so impatient. Once entering the room, the midwife went over her routine questions, and took your blood pressure.

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, are you getting enough water and rest?” The midwife asks, placing herself on the stool next to the ultrasound machine.

“Mum wouldn’t let me live it down if I weren’t,” you answer.

“I believe it,” the midwife chuckles, looking over at your mother who had taken a seat next to you on the exam table, “I would like for you to continue what you’re doing, and if you’re feeling any strange symptoms like dizziness, faintness, seeing stars in your vision, or pains in your chest or ribs, go to the hospital immediately.”

You nod your head, and the midwife starts setting your ultrasound up, helping you lie back on the bed as soon as she’s done. Unbuttoning your jeans, she places a flannel over the top of your jeans to keep the gel from staining them. The lights are then turned off and you begin to relax and clear your mind, ready to see your baby after weeks of waiting. Squeezing a large amount of gel onto your abdomen, the midwife places the transducer of the ultrasound machine onto the mound of gel, rubbing it around to find where the baby is positioned.

“Look at those little puckered lips,” the midwife smiles down at you.

“Oh darling, look at that sweet baby,” your mom was in tears, her emotions always outmatched yours.

As the midwife continues looking at the baby through the monitor, she takes her time going through all of the anatomy of the baby, noting it on the keys of the machine. Your hand was being squeezed so hard by your mother, you thought that your circulation might be cut off after so long. The tiny fingers of the baby were by their mouth, their legs stretching out and scrunching back up.

“What were your bets on the gender, mum?” the midwife asks your mother, the two smiling at each other.

“That’s a little girl in there.”

“Mum is correct,” the midwife points her finger to the wiggling baby, a clear picture of the baby’s gender boldly displayed.

You’re going to have a little girl, Captain.

Squealing with delight with fresh tears coating her cheeks, your mother squeezed your arm and kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of you. I’m a grandma to a baby girl.”

While there was downtime, Price often grabbed drinks with the Task Force, his usual military uniform shed and his dog tags resting on his bedside table. The black jumper he wore had gotten a little loose, his appetite scarcely there since you told him about your pregnancy. His anxiety made his mind wander more than he liked. How were you doing? Was your belly finally popping out? Did you start purchasing baby items? He would always ground himself after some time, his internal voice telling him that this was for the safety of himself, and the safety of you and the baby. His baby. But not his baby at the same time, he made that clear with you all those weeks ago.

Clutching a rocks glass in his hands at the bar, Price took a quick swig of the amber liquid as Soap sat to his right, scrolling through his social media timeline. Ghost was at the pool table across the bar, talking with Gaz, who had just taken a shot at a cue ball. It had been raining for days straight, the cool air flowing into the bar with each time the door opened. Were you also experiencing this weather? Or had you gone countries away to escape staying in the same country as your former friend with benefits with whom you now had forever ties with?

“You know, Y/N’s social media was deactivated and she never answers my texts. I wonder if she’s okay?” Soap mumbled, unable to put his mind at ease as to where you went or what happened to you.

“She was honorably discharged from the special forces, she’s probably cutting ties with her old life as much as possible,” Price’s voice was grim, however Soap didn’t quite catch on.

“That’s not like her though– she used to post everyday–!” Soap gestured his hand to his phone, his social media app still open.

“I think it’s best to allow her to move on,” Price slammed the rest of his whiskey, placing the glass back down on the bar with a loud clunk, “she’s been shot, wounded, seen death, caused death, stayed in hospital for weeks altogether in her career– she deserves peace.”

“She was ill, Captain,” those baby blue eyes of Soap’s were now filled with worry.

“You said it yourself: she was experiencing her time of the month.”

“You’ve turned cold recently Captain–.”

“Move on, Soap. That’s the best you can do, for her sake and yours.”

Soap’s emotions were crushed, his heart sinking to the very bottom of his belly. Price knew Soap always cared too much, and that’s what set him apart from many people who had grown a bit cold and cynical while in the SAS– like Ghost for example. It was time for everyone to move on, it had been many weeks since your departure, and the only one who seemed to hold on the most was Soap… at times. Price struggled too but he was a Captain, he needed to be a leader and offer guidance to his soldiers, even if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but needed to hear.

Holding his glass up to signal the barkeep for another pour, Price sighs, watching Soap scroll some more on his social media timeline, hitting the search bar and typing in anything and everything he could think of just to find you. He then sees him type in your mother’s name, his body language picking up in relief when a profile popped up, he just hoped your mother’s timeline wasn’t completely private.

“Shite,” Soap mutters, disbelief flooding his tone, “she’s fuckin’ pregnant?”

The Captain’s heart might as well have stopped beating right then and there when he heard Soap. Looking over at Soap’s phone, Soap adjusted the phone to show Price the screen, a post from two weeks ago exclaiming that you had just found out about the gender, a picture of you attached with a pink cupcake in your hand.

“It’s a girl,” Price stared at the photo of you for way too long, his eyes softening when he saw that pregnancy glow, your cheeks becoming more filled out, and the swell in your lower belly being caressed by your hand.

“Lucky lad, the father is,” Soap locked his phone, placing it face down on the bar, soon cradling his head in his hands. Soap is now trembling, a relieved yet saddened sigh leaving his mouth.

Yeah, a lucky lad he would have been in a different world.

Lying in the bath, the bubbles that had been added to the water thick and covering most of your body, your hands rested on your belly, rubbing the soft and stretched skin gently. Twenty two weeks along and you still hadn’t felt movements, and it was starting to worry you. Most people felt movement already. Sinking lower into the warm bath water, you feel the tension in your shoulders release after having worked all day. Come to think of it, your desk was still in a disarray with papers and pens and you had no energy to clean it up at the moment.

Stilling yourself in the water and staring ahead at the faucet, you notice your stomach twitch, thinking that at first it was just a reflex, until it happened a few more times. You place the tips of your fingers where the twitches were happening, flinching when you could feel little taps.

“Is that you in there, trying for your mummy’s attention?” You whisper, and another tap could be felt.

Tears escape your eyes, quickly rolling down your cheeks when you think about how John is missing out on these moments. He would never be able to feel his little girl’s first movements. You wanted to imagine him being right there after you called out his name, his large hand reaching down into the tub, brushing softly against your swollen belly. He would wait patiently, at first discouraged that he missed those little kicks. Until finally, those little taps started up again, his baby blue eyes lighting up as he felt the tiniest movements against his palm.

Wiping your tears away with the butts of your palms, you let out a shaky breath, attempting to ground yourself as much as you can in this moment, knowing that tears and sadness were not going to help get yourself through this. But it did feel good to cleanse your soul with a few tears after they built up for so long.

When John had gotten to his room back at the barracks after downing three glasses of whiskey, he could feel his body give out from under him as soon as he shut the door behind him. His back slides down the door, his bottom meeting the cold tile, hands cradling his face as he chewed his bottom lip raw, the dull sting of the open wound radiating on his mouth. Hot torrents of anxiety begin to course through his body, tears stinging his eyes as he feels like he might crawl out of his skin. Clawing at his jumper collar, he feels like he’s suffocating, his breaths uneven and raspy.

He missed you– missed those nights where he crawled into bed with you, your limbs entwining in a warm and comforting embrace after a hard day of work. His hands would search for the feeling of your soft skin in the darkness, only to feel an empty coldness on the sheets where your body should have been. You weren’t even his and vice versa but his attachment to you was obviously present from the beginning. His eyes always sought you out in the room, always scanning the battlefields to make sure you were safe. He should have pulled out all those times, knowing damn well that no birth control was 100% effective, other than abstinence or sterilization. He had gotten too comfortable with you, too lost in the warmth, the comfort you brought him. The smiles and the joking, the playful smacks you would give him, the wrestling and tickling matches that very often turned into that hot and heavy sex that left you both breathless and in a heavy daze.

John knew he needed to move on, and to allow you the opportunity to live a happy and safe life with the baby, away from the military, the SAS, and the Task Force, but he was stuck on the idea that things could have been so different. If his duties weren’t so important– ridding the world of everything ugly and scary, meaning that his daughter wouldn’t have to one day live in fear, he would do it a million times over. No matter how much it hurt– no, how much it killed him, or how difficult it was to go day after day not knowing who or what she might be when she finally came into the world. How he’d never be able to see you become the mother you talked about being one day, holding a brand new baby while coming down off of the adrenaline, sweat still clinging to your forehead and cheeks. How he wanted so badly to witness that ecstatic yet exhausted “I did it,” come from your mouth, your tired eyes peering up at him. Being your support system while you struggled to nurse, changing the baby’s first nappy, letting you rest while he gently rocked and soothed the fragile bundle, whispering how much he loved her already.

“Fuck–!” Price shouted, throwing his car keys across the room.

At 32 weeks, your baby shower took place, friends that had kept in contact with you over the years came, as well as family members that you hadn’t seen in some time. You were in a comfortable maxi dress as your belly had gotten too big and it felt like the skin on your belly was always itchy so the soft fabric of the dress played a part in keeping that feeling away. There was a mountain of gifts that sat around the recliner in the den and you were overwhelmed with how much people cared to spoil the baby this much.

As you sit in the recliner unwrapping the gifts, you smile for the pictures your mom begged to take so she could show you off, holding up each and every item you received. Blankets, nappies, outfits, baby gear, necessities, and even postpartum kits sat in a corner neatly. You were crying, feeling so undeserving of the kindness, but as your family and friends saw you, they all offered their comfort in the form of words of affirmation and bone crushing hugs. That you were loved and supported in this particularly difficult and confusing time. Your friends and family would have loved John.

Your mother brings in another gift out of nowhere, her arms barely able to wrap around it, let alone carrying it over to you. Confused, you make her drop it, your body lifting from the recliner to help her set it down, her hand waving you off to not help her with something so heavy in your condition. She gives you a look and shrugs, saying there was no name on the gift. Tearing the wrapping paper off, you see a beautiful bassinet pictured on the large box. No one had fessed up to getting the gift for you, so you sat confused for longer than you would have liked as everyone else mingled.

It had taken days for Price to figure out what he wanted to do for your upcoming baby shower. Your mother had posted an event, not realizing it was a public post, and fortunately for John, he knew your address from your paperwork and files. He found the sweetest bassinet, a cream color with a lacey pink border. It had a little storage area at the bottom so that you could keep any baby items at arm’s reach. Once he had put his payment and your address in, he hit the confirm button. He just hoped it would arrive on time.

Sitting back in his desk chair, he listened to the busy hallways in which soldiers congregated and conversed while on their down time. His mind wandered to the most recent pictures your mother had posted, and your belly had grown bigger and you smiled so large. He imagined lying in bed, shirt removed, sweatpants on, your warm body next to his in a night dress that had become too short on you with your bump, his hand caressing the bottom of your abdomen, whispering sweet words. You were pressing your lips to his own, lingering for a moment and breathing in each other’s breath.

“God, I hope you’re doing alright,” Price’s voice came out in a near whisper.

Work has become a distraction of sorts, the meeting on your screen with several of your coworkers becoming something like a white noise as your mind wanders, your pen hanging loosely between your fingers as you stare into the void. A plate of biscuits and a cup of tea had been placed on your desk almost an hour ago by your mother, but they hadn’t been so much as even touched. You had a pretty significant headache that had gnawed away at the back of your head for the past few days that not even a paracetamol here and there helped. Thinking that the hormones had everything to do with it, you brushed it off without a second thought.

“Y/N, what do you think about this?” Your coworker asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I think it’s a great idea,” you answer, nodding and smiling into your webcam.

Catching the fully set up bassinet that had been put in the other corner of the room in your video feed, you smile, placing your hands on your now nearly full term belly– 36 weeks to be exact. Your coworkers dismissed the meeting after agreeing to start the new project that had been outlined for a few weeks now, the small details and start date finally figured out.

You stand from your desk chair, a hand placed on the underside of your belly to keep your center of gravity balanced and to keep your pelvis from hurting from the weight of your belly. The dress you wore swayed as you waddled over to the corner of the room where all of the baby’s things had been set up. Grunting as your knees bend to the floor, you drag the hospital bag you had been slowly putting together over the past few days. There were folded onesies, and knitted cardigans that you still had yet to pack away, as well as a small bag of toiletries. John would have chewed you out for being so carefree on such important things such as the hospital bags. He would have had his bag packed for weeks and sitting at the front door.

Wincing from a twinge of pain in your chest, you stop what you’re doing for a moment to wait for it to subside. It could have been a trapped gas bubble– pregnancy and all of its little quirks. When the pain doesn't subside, you attempt to get onto your feet, but cry out when the pain worsens.

“Mum–!” You cry out, bracing your hand on the bassinet and clutching your chest.

Hearing your mother stomp up the stairs quickly, she barges into the room, rushing to your side and helping you up, “what happened, sweetheart?” she questions, eyes wide.

“I’m having really bad pains in my chest,” you begin to cry, hot tears pooling in your eyes, scared out of your mind for the baby.

After little to no convincing, your mother packed you and the bags into the car. It felt like the longest drive to the hospital ever, the diaper bag sitting in your lap and your own hospital bag at your feet, the baby kicking the wind out of your lungs, so you thought that she was hopefully doing just fine with all of her movements. There was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground and icicles formed on the trees, the freezing January air nipping at your skin.

A nurse brought your mother and yourself over to triage, hooking you up to a non-stress test, the nodes placed cozily around your stomach, and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm that was inflating and squeezing the life out of you. You knew that 140/90 was not where a pregnant person’s blood pressure should be, and you were certain the nurse was going to have you pee in a cup to check for proteins.

Sure enough, you had to pee in a cup, handing it over to the nurse when you were finished and it was a hard enough feat to reach under your belly. Thankfully though, the non-stress test wasn’t alarming, the baby’s heart rate staying in a normal range even with the issues you were facing.

“I think it’s safe to induce you right now, I’m not liking the looks of your blood pressure and labs,” the midwife sits in a stool across from your bed.

Everything started off manageable– the pains, you were able to breathe through. Your mother stood by your side the whole time, clutching your hand when you needed it. You sat cross-legged in a hospital gown, the bed placed at the highest position, and an IV placed in the crease of your elbow. It was five hours later when the pitocin had started causing the most excruciating pains you had ever felt, and you had been shot many times in the SAS.

Crying out and grasping the handles of the bed, your breathing became ragged and your mouth dried out and you were so happy when your mother applied lip balm to your mouth to keep them from cracking. Each time your progress was checked, the pain worsened, the labor pains feeling like a searing hot knife was dragging across your lower abdomen. You wanted so badly for John to be here, sitting across from you on the bed, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders while you groaned through your pains, but it was your mother who stood in his place, her tender touches breaking you out of your swimming mind.

Hours later, your water had broken on its own, and now you were in the home stretch and the anxiousness began to flow throughout your body, knowing that your little girl was to make an appearance by the beginning of the next day.

John’s body was wired, sleep not taking him this evening, his hand resting on his bare stomach as he splayed out on his bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. He scrolled mindlessly for hours on his phone when he finally decided to browse your mother’s social media, hoping that she had updated with anything that had to do with you. He shot up from his pillow when he saw a photo of you sitting up in a hospital bed, and IV and wires hooked up all over your body.

“Posted three hours ago,” he mutters to himself, tapping your photo and zooming in on your face– you looked so angelic.

His baby would be here so soon and it made his heart skip beats, anxiety flowing through his veins. He could be there right now in place of your mother, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear, rocking with you and helping you breathe through the pain. Even when on the battlefield while injured, he knew you were terrible at controlling your breathing, often passing out and waking back up with him chewing your head off.

“Make sure to breathe, sweet girl, you’ve got this,” he spoke almost silently– a whisper off his lips.

Lying back down, he knew immediately that he was not going to sleep until he knew you had delivered safely and that the baby was okay. Knowing how much your mother posted updates about you, it was surefire that she’d post a picture of that sweet baby as soon as she arrived. What were you going to name her? Would you give her your surname? Of course you would, he doesn’t have that badge of honor– of his kid taking his name, when he wasn’t present. What would his daughter look like? Hopefully like you because you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green Earth.

The smallest hand was wrapped around your finger, swaddled in the cream colored blanket your mother knitted just for her. The baby came out kicking and screaming after almost two hours of pushing. You cried out for John, wanting him by your side more than anything. To hold your hand, to kiss you so deeply when the baby came and was placed on your chest. Your mother knew how much you missed John, your forlorn looks never fooling her, and so she felt great sympathy hearing you scream out for your past lover.

“Look at you, Bunny,” you whisper, stroking the soft cheek of your little girl ever-so-softly.

“Oh, you did such a good job, my love,” a kiss was placed on your cheek by your mother, her hand resting on the back of the baby’s bunny hat covered head.

You would go through the pain of carrying her and bringing her forth a million times over, your heart swelling so much it might have exploded when your eyes caught the looks of her face. She was so perfect, so tiny. The moment she was placed on your chest, her eyes peered right into yours– those same crystal blue eyes she shared with her father.

It was late morning the next day. John hadn’t slept a wink, his eyes heavy and Soap was late to debriefing– like that was a new thing though. He decided to sit at the table instead of the podium at the front of the room where the projector screen hung behind it, too exhausted to stand for more than needed. Gaz was away on deployment, leaving Ghost and Soap to sit in the seats to the right and left of him. Ghost’s eyes peered at his newest deployment papers, flipping through the pages pretty quickly as he was a fast reader. Soap had his head down, phone hidden under the table while there was a moment of silence– a break of sorts, in John’s meeting.

“She had the baby, bonnie lass she is,” Soap says out loud, Ghost looking up from his papers with a quiet hum.

John frantically dug his phone out of his pocket, searching your mother’s name on social media. There you were, holding the tiniest bundle in your arms, swaddled inside a knitted blanket with her hands tucked under her chin. He had to leave, he needed a moment. The chair screeches when he stands, Soap’s attention snapping to his Captain, who started rushing out the door.

Sharing a confused look with Ghost, Soap stood from his seat and left the room. Why did he leave in such a hurry? Why did he react like that in general? Soap was searching his brain for the possible answer. Come to think of it, Soap never noticed a gentleman by your side during your pregnancy and your mother had mentioned in posts how you were so strong and she was lucky to be by your side during this new adventure. Was John that baby’s father? Why was he not there with you? But then it all began to make sense the longer Soap thought– the SAS and Task Force were always keeping themselves hot on the tails of dangerous people, and those dangerous people would stop at nothing to take everything away from them. Maybe this was a mutual decision– and exactly why you left the military.

John’s breathing was heavy as he shut the door to his room behind him. He felt unstable on his feet, nearly tripping on his way to sit on his bed. Your photo was zoomed in on his phone, your hair was disheveled, your hospital gown hanging from your shoulders– he was guessing you’d already attempted to feed the baby with how lazily it had been tied back up. John’s eyes focus on the baby, his heart skipping a beat when he looks at her sweet button nose and wispy little hairs poking out from her knitted bunny hat. Oh how beautiful his girls looked after all of their hard work. Pride swells in his chest, he knew this must have been so difficult, but you did it and looked even more beautiful than before as a new mother.

The nights were long, the days melted together, and you found yourself lost. Though your mother lent a hand when she was available, you had taken on so much so quickly and had no adjustment time, as having a baby would do. Between nursing the baby and running on less sleep than you had gotten on some of your deployments, you were ingesting more caffeine than you liked, and you often found yourself nodding off at random times. But that little girl had been the easiest to please so far. As long as she got milk, had a clean nappy, warm clothes, and cuddles, she was content.

John would have been the one to wake up at the first signs of movement in the bassinet– he was an incredibly light sleeper and would often rise earlier than most of his team. He’d say how much of a waste it was to sleep the morning away when you could be productive and get more important things done before the day actually needed to start. You weren’t much of a morning person and would often tell John to let you sleep in until the last possible minute if you stayed in his room for the night, but you always managed to slip out of his room before anyone came into the halls.

Your mind wandered more during your maternity leave, often you questioned what John was doing, if he knew his daughter had arrived safely and if he knew how beautiful she was. Did he have any deployments in the time you were discharged to now? You were sure he was busy, as he always had been.

A few weeks passed and John was on leave for three weeks, visiting home and executing plans he made with Soap for the day, who was taking a leave around the same time as John for a wedding. While walking the streets of London, hands stuffed in his pockets, and Soap to his side, the two talked about quick bite options nearby. John had a cafe in mind, mentioning that they had great coffee and sandwiches.

The late winter air nipped John’s nose, the tip dusted a light pink. He had a black beanie placed atop his head and a black peacoat over his jumper. Soap’s outfit resembled the outfit John wore, save the beanie, but add a scarf. Soap had attempted to reach out to you on multiple occasions since having the baby, but of course, you didn’t answer. Soap knew that he shouldn’t keep trying to pry and answer out of you, but he also knew that you needed the support of a friend, even though he wanted to be more than a friend.

Price felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, telling Soap to go on ahead and order for them both– Price wasn’t picky. Opening the door to the cafe, Soap felt an immediate warmth wash over him and the heavy smell of coffee filling his nose. Taking a spot in the short line, he stared at the menu above, until he became distracted by the woman in front of him, kissing a very small baby on the head, cooing and rocking her body as her hands caressed the sling that held the baby to her chest. He knew your voice anywhere.

“Y/N?” He places his large hand on your shoulder, spinning you to face him.

Your eyes were wide, a scared look on your face until you noticed Soap’s familiar face. Barely able to string words together, Soap took you by the arm and dragged you to the side, his arms engulfing you in an embrace, careful as to not smoosh the baby’s head between your two chests.

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” Soap’s low voice vibrates the side of your face as your arms wrap around him.

“I didn’t want my old life to follow me because of her,” your voice trembles.

“But you didn’t have to face this alone.”

“I do though,” you pull away, looking at Soap with watery eyes.

Feeling his heart sink, knowing that what you said was true, he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to be the one to hold you– support you, and keep you safe. Even though what Price was doing was carrying out the same purpose.

“She’s a beauty,” Soap nods to the sleeping baby covered almost entirely inside your sling, her little face settled against your chest, lips puckering as she stirs to get more comfortable.

“Thank you Johnny,” you smile, stroking her cheek softly, then adjusting the knitted bunny hat to sit closer to her eyebrows.

Johnny– he hadn’t heard you say his real name in so long, it was like a treat hearing it leave your soft lips.

“Reach out to me from time to time, just so I know you’re doing okay?” Soap pleads, his hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing them lightly to get his words through to you.

Nodding with a soft smile, you could hear your name being called by the barista. Grabbing your coffee, you turn to exit the cafe, offering Soap a soft “bye,” as you pass him. You wrap your thick shawl around the baby tight, holding onto her with one hand while you balance your coffee in the other. You were only minutes from your mother’s house, and the fresh air was something you needed after being cooped up in the house for so long.

Then you see him– John. He was ending a call on his phone, placing it back in his coat pocket before setting off on his walk to the cafe to meet back up with Soap. Your heart was pounding, and almost as if the baby senses your unease, she begins to stir and whimper. You walk closer and closer to where John’s position is by a lamp post. His eyes spot you and his body freezes in place. You keep walking, shushing the baby softly, your hand placed on her back to let her know her mother was right here.

“You’re alright, Little Bunny,” you say into her hat, softly kissing the crown of her head as you pass John.

His daughter was right there, cozily pressed against your body in the chilly climate. The baby wore a cream knitted bunny ear hat, one ear flopping over the side of the sling. She looked so much like the both of you, it almost scared him. He wanted to hold her— hold you. It ate away at his insides, turning his guts to liquid as he watched your eyelashes flutter down to the ground, watching your feet.

Tears were falling like mad down your face as you passed him without a word, John watching you in disbelief– he didn’t think he would be able to rest his eyes upon you again, not after going this long without contact. But it was for the best, you both knew this.

His eyes followed you until you were no longer in sight, making sure you were absolutely safe with the baby. Life could be different, he could run after you and grovel on his knees for forgiveness. To beg you to forget he was ever cold to you and to start fresh. But he couldn’t, especially not after how things ended and with knowing he’d jeopardize yours and the baby’s safety.

It was days later that you had run into Soap and John while out in London. You hadn’t slept right in days and it was a mixture of having a newborn who needed your attention and the anxiousness of seeing your old lover and not being able to think about a thing other than him.

Your mother’s footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs and she soon appears in the doorway with a small parcel. Handing it to you and planting herself on your bed next to you, she waits for you to open it. As you tear into the parcel, peeling the tape and opening the box, you look inside and see a knitted bunny, the yarn pink and soft. Pulling the bunny out, you notice a note attached to it, neatly folded and taped shut. As you carefully open the note, your eyes scan over the words written on it. You knew that handwriting— John’s handwriting.

“For Little Bunny.”

#cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod imagine #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii #call of duty imagine #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you

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minkkumaz · 1 year ago

Text

GOOD LITTLE GIRL

sometimes it felt like you were in a completely different world than yungyu. others called him bad, but you could hardly believe that. everything inside of you wanted to figure him out.

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

PAIRING lee yungyu x fem!reader WC 2.3k TAGS classmates to lovers. school au. bad boy yungyu. minor cussing. OMI NOTE this might be one of my favorite things i've written.. ever? i'm so soft for gyu, and his bad boy persona honestly takes the cake i don't know. this plot kind of reminds me of 'she fell first, but he fell harder.' also i might've snuck a ddlc reference in here w my multifandom ass..

immortality is a concept that defines eternal life, incapability of dying. and while in your world it didn’t exist, word about him never died. there were always rumors, people telling you that getting involved with him would ruin the perfect idea of yourself. despite this, it only intrigued you more.

school was alway the main source of gossip and other immature problems, half of it being completely untrue. word spread like wild fire, even when it didn’t make sense. so why was everyone so sure that lee yungyu was this bad influence? there were times when it was best to stay behind and not involve yourself in the uproar.

though you couldn’t help but stare, unable to figure him out. the corner of his mouth crinkling whenever he smiled, how he’d always do a peace sign when posing for photos. for the most part, maybe it was less about figuring him out, and more about just admiring the boy.

a stupid class crush wasn’t something you’d admit to, he never talked to you; and your closest friends convinced you that you must’ve been a lucky one.

but out of the corner of his eye, he always saw you staring. it wasn’t a secret to him that there was this odd curiosity peaking out of your skull. if anything, it was the final push to get him to talk to you.

it was an early morning, the trees outside were beginning to bloom this april. you always thought it was the prettiest time of the year, pink and white flowers littering the long branches. a lot of the time, arriving to classes early gave you a sense of responsibility.

the air was calm, and you could focus better on any assignments you might’ve missed the night before. there were a few stragglers here and there, making the classroom less empty on these occasions. yet you appreciated when it was just yourself.

today was no excuse. all of your things were sprawled out on your desk while you busied yourself in your notebooks. responding to questions that were left unanswered on your worksheets, planning out the rest of your day, and listening to the soft knocks on the door in front of you.

wait, knocks on the door in front of you?

the knob turned slowly as lee yungyu poked his head inside to search around. not a single teacher was in sight, though there was a cute girl sitting at one of the desks, staring at him wide eyed. his expression softened upon seeing you with all your stationary spread out.

he let himself in, letting the door quietly shut behind him. at first, you were confused why someone like him was in school at this hour. wasn’t being super late with some comedic timing apart of his whole brand? it was new, but you tried to act like you weren’t shocked.

resuming what you were originally doing, it was in your best attempt to ignore the boys presence. clicking the end of your pen, you continue to scribble nonsense on your paper. though it became almost impossible as you heard the sound of a chair dragging across the floor.

looking up from the desk, his dark eyes met yours. but in retrospect, he was nothing near intimidating up close. he sat himself down and smiled at you before he spoke.

“hi, you must be y/n, right?” your name flowed off his tongue perfectly, sending a small shiver down your spine.

“ah.. yes. you’re lee yungyu.” you respond shyly.

“oh? so you know me as well then.” yungyu smirked, crossing his arms atop the table.

“well, you’re nothing short of infamous in school.” you mention, making him quirk an eyebrow.

“word gets around too quickly here. the school year barely started.” he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“there isn’t much else to expect from our classmates. i could only imagine what you’ve heard about me.”

“i’ve heard nothing but good things.” he told you, “you’re too innocent to get yourself into any trouble.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you question.

“nothing! i was just saying.”

“right..”

“you know, we’re not strangers anymore. so how about friends?” he proposes out of the blue.

“huh? why so suddenly?” you tilt your head like a lost puppy, only earning a light laugh from him.

“i’ve seen you staring at me. it only made me more curious about you.” he admits, making your heart drop to your feet, “it’s cute.”

“cute..?”

“i said what i said. so, friends?”

“okay, friends.” you agree hesitantly, tapping your fingers on the desk.

“great. how about you come with me to yoonsung hyung’s party in the woods tonight and hang out? heard it was gonna be pretty cool.” he asks.

“yoonsung? as in student council yoonsung?”

“that’s him.”

“i didn’t think he threw parties like that.” you mumble, thinking about the responsible boy.

“are we talking about the same yoonsung? he loves planning things, and i’d like to say we’re pretty close.” he tells you, picking up one of your pencils.

“that’s interesting then.” you comment, “i didn’t know the two of you were friends.”

“you must not have been stalking me hard enough then.” he jokes, drawing little stars on your notebook.

“hey!”

“i’m just teasing you. you don’t have to be so tense around me. though i am shocked you agreed to hang out with me.”

“i didn’t exactly agree to anything yet, yungyu.” you claim, erasing his stars.

“i know you’re going to say yes to me.” he looks at you intently, almost as if he’s trying to brainwash you into agreeing.

“maybe if i could get this work done by the end of the day.” you grumbled.

“boring. what are you working on anyways?” he picks up your paper to read the print, it was a rough draft of something you were writing.

“the writing homework we were assigned yesterday. i was just trying to finish it up but i haven’t liked what i’ve made so far.” you groan, snatching the paper out of his hands

“if you try so hard to make things perfect, you won’t make much progress. just write things down and fix it up later.”

“that.. that is actually pretty inspiring. aren’t you supposed to be some bad guy?”

“what did you want me to do? rip up your paper and tell you how shit of a job you were doing?”

“okay, i didn’t mean it like that–”

“y/n!” a voice called out to you, sounding very obviously distressed.

two girls appeared in the classroom, sliding the door open with ease upon seeing you with yungyu. they look almost scared for you, and after the short conversation you’ve had with your new friend, you see no reason as to why.

you glance back from your friends to him, and all he does is grin at you. ‘that’s my cue’ he mouths silently, barely peaking a whisper.

he sits up from his seat while the girls rush towards you. in the middle of this, he takes his hand and swipes your pencil pouch on the floor, watching as all the pastel highlighters and pen scatter on the floor.

“see you tonight, y/n.” he slings one of his backpack straps over his shoulder, leaving you with your friends.

“what were you doing hanging out with him?” one frowns, kneeling down to help pick up your things.

“if he was bothering you i can tell a teacher! he’s bad news..” another one whines, squeezing your cheeks to make sure you’re okay.

“i’m fine guys, don’t worry.” you mutter, sliding out of your chair to gather the remains of your materials on the floor.

“i hope you didn’t let him convince you to go to that party.”

“our y/nnie is too kind to turn someone down, but it’s for your own good..”

was all of this for your own good? their words were like knives, only deepening the cut of curiosity. everyone called him bad, but you could hardly believe that. the past thirty minutes were living proof that there was so much more to him.

regardless of their words, you felt determined to go with him to that party. there was a high chance it would help you figure out who he really was behind this twisted persona people made of him.

the forest was dark and empty, only a small beacon of light in the distance that you walked towards. there was no saying why you let a boy you had only met mere hours ago lead you through the towering trees.

leaves crunched below your hesitant feet, the only evidence that a living body has been through these depths. the grip yungyu had on your hand was almost enough to be scared of him, but it was mostly reassuring. he just didn’t want to lose sight of you.

as the party grew near, sparkling string lights weaved their way through the branches. they glistened in your eyes like stars. the chatter of people grew more audible, and before you knew it, the scene overwhelmed you.

food, drinks, a boom box, and a multitude of your classmates all gathered to have a fun time. your first party didn’t seem as scary as your friends drawn it out to be, and his presence didn’t make it any less intimidating.

“this looks fun, come on.” he pointed out, taking you farther into the crowd.

“there’s so many people here.” you add, making your way through the large group of party - goers.

“wouldn’t expect much less from yoonsung. he knows everybody.”

you replied with a nod, still holding onto his cold hand. there was a small spot amongst everyone in the middle, where you both stayed put.

people were dancing along to the music, similar to the way the flowers swayed against the wind in the spring time. suddenly, he unlaced his fingers from yours and placed them on his shoulders, snaking his own around your waist.

“do you dance?” he says quiet enough only for you to hear.

“ahm.. not really, i’ve never been good at it.”

“then follow my lead.”

“oh– okay!” you stammered, making him giggle at your obedience.

“eager, aren’t we?” he mentioned casually, “you know that i’m bad, yet you’re spending the night with me.”

“you’re the one that invited me out, stupid.” you pout, looking away from him.

“but you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, could you?” his hold around you tightened, pulling you closer to him. a blush crawled its way across your face.

“it wasn’t even like that!”

“what do you want from my world anyways? you’re just a good little girl.”

“and you’re supposed to be a bad little boy? that’s what you act like, but i don’t buy a second of it.” you argue playfully, “and even if you were like that, why do you want to hang out with me?”

“jeez, picking a fight with me already? i’m bad, but definitely not little.” he bites his tongue.

“not a fight, just trying to figure you out.” you admit, letting your tone turn slightly serious.

“what’s there to know when everything you’ve heard about me is probably true anyways?” he scoffs.

“that you make girls run away sobbing? that you graffitied the principals car over break? that you used to be some kind of bully?” you reply, “or maybe do you have feelings like everyone else and just don’t know how to handle them?”

“god, that got deep.” he laughed nervously, “you might be the realest person i’ve ever met.”

“you’re not so bad, you know.”

“not so bad? you barely even scraped the surface, it’s not something i have to try at. you on the other hand..”

“i’m not trying to be bad, yungyu. i’m hanging out with you because you’re my friend now, right?”

“from stalkers to friends to lovers, sounds like some weird fanfiction.” he teases.

“when are you gonna let that go?!” you grumble, letting your head fall forward into his chest.

“i’ll let it go whenever we get to that last part.”

“pfft.. what…?” you try to play it off.

removing your head from the spot on his chest, he’s already peering down at you; glancing from the plump of your lips back to your eyes. he moves a hand to place on your crown, gently forcing your head to tilt upwards to look at him.

and from all the things you’ve heard about yungyu, the one true thing was that eye contact with him could kill. it made you squirm in your spot against him, feeling a weird tension in your soul.

“you have a thing for me, it’s kind of obvious.”

“oh my god don’t say that out loud! it’s already weird that i’m here with you” you squeal, covering his mouth with your palm.

“so you’re not denying it?” his words are muffled.

“why do you always say such confusing things?! i don’t know if i like you yungyu, we’ve barely been talking for a full day.” you take your hand away with furrowed eyebrows.

“you know, you influenced me to pay closer attention to you. i guess you could say it gave me the crushes, i just wanted to see if you’d admit you had them too.” he confessed.

“you’re crazy, gyu.”

“am i really, though?” he muttered, tilting your chin to angle himself inches away from you.

it made you freeze up, a weird whirlwind of emotions floating throughout your stomach to make you sick. there weren’t enough synonyms for flustered that you could think of, but you didn’t pull away.

why didn’t you pull away?

the answer was that you couldn’t, after scrutinizing him for months, he was finally in front of you where you wanted him. and that made you realize how simple everything was, laid out perfectly after playing your cards right.

he was a person, and people are weird. they’re compelled to do crazy shit, and yungyu wasn’t an exception, you understood this.

when you didn’t flinch, nor wiggle in an endeavor to escape, he closed the small gap between you two. it was only a few seconds, not a single person nearby paying any attention. but the spark you felt was so real.

“wanna admit it now?” he smiles, pulling away from the heat of your lips.

“in your dreams, lee yungyu.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

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bihanarms · 2 years ago

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Here's chapter 2! If you want to read the first one, don't hesitate to go to my blog ;) Feel free to correct me or suggest some ideas, happy reading~

Chapter 2 : Dilemma

Do not be fooled into thinking that las plagas are merely tools for creating powerful bioweapons. Their true value lies in their ability to control. No matter how hostile the subject, a single injection can turn anyone into a faithful servant. Who needs spies when you can turn yesterday's enemy into today's ally?

Can you imagine if Saddler had that much control? Six billion loyal servants at his sole command. There would be no opposition, no war.  Maybe for the first time in human history, the world would know peace.

But I know how Saddler and the others have oppressed the people of this island for generations. I know how he treats them. That's no way to live. And because of that, I won't let it happen. »

A drop of sweat fell on the right side of his notebook.

Luis released his pen with a trembling hand, his pulse abnormally high. All that he had witnessed on this island was too much, and he could not continue to work and support these atrocities without doing anything. Being a mere spectator to all this was destroying him bit by bit, day after day...But where to start?

He had already figured out a way to remove the parasite from a body until a certain stage, but most of the inhabitants of his former village and this island were at an advanced stage, and nothing was possible at this level of infection, except... execution.

The best thing to do was unfortunately to get out of this place while he still could, safe and sound, to save his skin.

"I'm going to blow myself up," Luis sighed with a completely overwhelmed voice, his arms hanging on both sides of his desk chair. He took a deep breath before raising his head and trying to regain his composure.

You’ve got a new notification, the sound came from his computer.

He hastily slid on his chair to reach his keyboard.

There was actually a solution...This woman named Ada Wong had just replied to his email. She came from an organization whose name he vaguely remembered and offered to get him out of this island safely, in exchange he gave her the sample called the amber he had recovered.

But could he trust her? In any case, there were few options...

Count on me, I'll bring you the amber, but you'll get me out of here, right? Ah, and if you could take a pack of cigarettes on the way... any brand will do.

With his right hand on his lighter and his left hand on the end of his lips holding his last cigarette, a cloud of smoke emanated from his mouth...

Who to trust?

His eyes suddenly opened wide, and a snap of his fingers resonated in his brain. What about (y/n)? How could he forget about her? Months had passed since then, months spent in her presence, learning more about her, personality, tastes, etc... Even though the mystery surrounding her face had still not been solved, he had become attached to her in a unique way. And as he had felt it from the beginning, she was much more than a mere woman his ego dictated he should conquer.

They trusted each other, or... was it really the case?

Luis replayed the scenes in his head, but he had never heard her express her opinion on what was happening on this island. He had tried to fish for her opinion on Saddler several times, but she had never been receptive to it, no negative or positive answer. Her response was limited to "these are things that do not concern me, Luis. My job here is to protect people like you and your work."

The poor researcher had such a tormented mind, a real headache settling in his head. He really didn't know who to believe...

Knock knock knock

His heart skipped a beat.

"Just a minute! Just a minute!"

He rushed to his notes, hiding them in drawers, closing all the tabs on his computer, and hurried to open the door.

"(y/n)?"

"What? No nickname today? You seem stressed. Something's bothering you," (y/n) said gravely.

Her tone was drier than usual. Something was wrong.

"Everything's fine, cariña. What brings you here?" Luis forced a smile.

(y/n) briefly scanned the room before turning her attention back to Luis. "Hope you are ready for big trouble. You have two hours to meet me at this location. And if I don’t see you here exactly in time, I'll come back to drag you out. »

Normally, Luis would find her authoritarian attitude a bit thrilling, but all he felt now was fear. Was Saddler ordering (y/n) to eliminate him because he suspected his betrayal? Would she take care of him in the village? After all, (y/n) used to work for Saddler before becoming his friend, from what he knew.

"See you in two hours then," Luis replied, trying to appear calm, even though he was anything but.

He closed the door and slumped against it. In any case, the place that the charming military woman had indicated was right next to where he was supposed to meet Ada.

Why not see what was waiting for him there?

hope you liked it !! chapter 3 will be out soon, be ready~ and dont worry romance’s coming back in the next chapter :p

#luis serra x reader #luis sera #resident evil #luis sera x reader #luis serra navarro #luis serra #resident evil 4 #resident evil remake

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dragoncookies · 2 years ago

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Fitz Stellar lune Analyzation Prelude

So, this one may be a tad bit long.

So, I am going to make a series dissecting Fitz in Stellarlune. This is the lens through which I look at Fitz, for context.

Stellarlune was definitely...something, for Fitz. It sort of made me realize certain things about Fitz that I hadn’t before and was both on brand for his character and completely threw away his character at the same time.

Overall, In this book Fitz was completely demoted to the role of love interest and all of his other wonderful character traits were just thrown away. His telepath skills were there but what else is new?

There was no insight as to how he’s truly dealing with the hatred of everyone at Foxfire, nothing on his relationship with his parents after the craziness of Flashback (haven’t even seen Alden since flashback. Not complaining but), nothing more on how he truly feels about Alvar being partially dead because of HIM (other than that he’s mad about it), or if he still feels that suffocating Vacker Legacy.

Stellarlune gave many inklings as to how he’s taking things and developed his character for sure, but they felt almost empty and almost antagonized him if anything.

This is all because of the series being written from Sophie’s POV. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how Sophie feels about Fitz. Relationships (of all kinds) are complicated, and one of my favorite things about this series is how painfully realistic it is when it comes to the relationships. The messiness of it all is so realistic for how it actually is for teenagers.

It just...really doesn’t do Fitz any favors when someone who’s a huge DOORMAT (I love Sophie don’t worry) is the one describing someone who can be such a blunt little PRICK (Fitz is my favorite character). No wonder he’s painted in the light that he is in this book. If he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be in character at all for Sophie.

Unfortunately, you have to be able to read inbetween the lines and do some extra thinking to get the actual meaning of what Fitz said and did in this book.

He’s like a riddle that you have to chew on before you get the meaning. Or a taylor swift song. At first you think “this is so untasteful”, but then it gets stuck in your head and listen to it again and again and notice all the touches and effort that went into it. Then you appreciate it, and enjoy it.

Fitz is so hated because he’s just. He’s an absolute character of a character. it’s hard to remember everything in such an intricate series, but it’s very important to remember everything that has happened to Fitz and what his POV is from the beginning of the series to Stellarlune in order to understand his character. His ENTIRE world is pulled from under him, he’s never given the space to express his emotions, he’s lived believing that his worth is tied to him being useful and achieving things. There are SO. MANY. parts to dissect about him it’s stupid. He’s a mess of conflictions. Family, or friends? Vacker Legacy, or improve Lost Cities? Romance with Sophie, or friendship with Keefe? He shifts back and forth all the time throughout the series.

Here’s my take on his personality. He’s blunt as heck. Very little thought goes into what he says. He actually becomes increasingly blunt throughout the series. For that reason, I think it’s important to remember that not everything about what Fitz says should be taken so seriously. If very little thought goes into what he says, very little gravity resides in his words. Thinking of all the blunt people I’ve known, their actions and tone and simply getting to know them reveals how priceless they can be. They can be hard to swallow, but loyal to the core and so, so caring. Remember:

Fitz loves to bake.

Fitz loves giving gifts. He even has a mini gift giving arc. He went from giving Sophie a stupid boring pen to getting her new, unique gifts every day when she was having a depressive episode in Nightfall. That painting was a huge fumble though.

He legit has ten pairs of the same fuzzy pjs. Like what.

He’s really a huge dork. Like, the hugest dork. He literally sat with his sister at lunch for a while before Keefe.

Rambling king. He rambles all the time. He’s so awkward about it to.

Sophie has described his hair as looking like a “rockstar”. His hair looks like a rockstar. He just. He.

He loves sweets. Remember those dry cookies in Legacy? Remember how he kept eating them? Remember the ripple puff he devoured in one bite in book five? He’s got a sweet tooth

He liked having green spikey hair. Fitz was calmly eating his breakfast with green hair and only changed it because his mother made him.

He likes holding people’s hands.

Sophie found Fitz reading a TEXTBOOK for FUN in book one. He likes to read. he probably already knew how to bottle wind but he was still readin’ that “ways to catch the wind” book anyways. Just curled up on the chair readin’ it.

Fitz gave Keefe a pep talk in Unlocked, telling him that accepting help isn’t weak. It was so inspirational and touching.

He actually sleeps with a stuffed animal. For that matter, Alvar confirmed that he’s a little cuddler in Neverseen. He’s a little snuggler cuddly guy.

he went with Sophie to get gelato for his friends. In the middle of a crisis. He just dropped everything to get ice cream for his friends.

He literally has a box of souvenirs he got from the forbidden cities. He got little mementos every time he went looking for sophie.

He also tried to save a pigeon. Just, he just saw it and had to help it. He got chased by other little kids and probably hit by flying sandals for it.

I believe it mentions at some point that he had to get tutors because of how much school he missed looking for Sophie. He had to put in that work to become top of his class. Do you know how mentally destroying it is to be top of your class? He’s just very competitive.

Fitz has a limp now.

He dive rolled to push Sophie out of harm’s way.

He carried Linh when she was tired in Nightfall.

he likes dinosaurs and dragons.

Biana is canonly graceful, so when Fitz said that he catches Biana all the time because she’s clumsy in book one, Fitz was just making stuff up for Sophie’s benefit. Silly.

Personality wise, Fitz is a very feel-y feeler. He’s a huge nerd and very smart, yes, but he’s very driven by emotions. He’s very dense as well. And prideful. He’s proud of his achievements. Those are just his traits. All put together, can he be unlikeable? Oh absolutely. But, if you just accept his very REALISTIC and well rounded character, he’s a gem.

With this mindset (in the next post), let’s dissect Fitz in that Rayni face reveal scene!

#fitz vacker #kotlc fitz #kotlc headcanon #KotLC #kotlc alvar #kotlc rayni #kotlc stellarlune #kotlc keefe #kotlc sophie #sophie foster #Keefe Sencen #kotlc shitpost #kotlc theories

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musekicker · 2 years ago

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It's not much really, but a fun little Ella and @whack-patty oc, Sneep Snorp interaction.

Another day at the New Moon theater. Sneep Snorp had arrived early enough that not everyone was here yet. He knew someone was here though as the front door was unlocked. Granted, someone could had always broken in and left the door unlocked after-

Oh, that would be a interesting detail he could put in a future book. For now, he was fairly certain there was no break in and murder going on. He was heading towards Buster's office when a sudden movement dropped inches in front of him, nearly even hitting his beak.

He was not proud of the squawk he let out at the movement. Thankfully he stopped in time to avoid walking right into the object, dropping his notebook and pen from the sudden stop. Now that the bird was still as well as the object, he could focus on what he was looking at.

It was a puppet of himself in front of him. The coloring of the puppet felt was uncannily close to his own feather coloring. The clothes looked very close to something he had worn in the past in the theater, though not quite exact. One could tell the clothes were handmade puppet clothes.

The beak was long, maybe a bit too long Sneep Snorp thought to himself. And the eyes were big. He was pretty sure the eyes were made of halves of table tennis balls.

Now looking up he saw the puppeteer behind the puppet.

"Hello there, Ella. When did you make this?" Sneep Snorp asked Ella.

Sneep Snorp even now wasn't quite sure what to make of Ella. She was nice enough, though clearly came with her own brand of mischief. Very talented in her art of puppetry and making the puppets.

There were however also the warnings the crew gave him about her time to time. Mainly in the vein of don't try to start a fight with Ella, ever. And often the words "I'm glad she's on our side" had been uttered when talking about Ella.

And he wasn't sure where he stood with the female koala. She hadn't ignored him and was nice to him. But since their meeting it seemed like she was in her own little world. Sneep Snorp did know a creative haze when he saw it. So he had though that the explanation. Now seeing the puppet of himself, it was clear that was the case.

"I've been working on it on and off since you showed up." Ella said. "Obviously the actual show puppets came first. But yeah, finished this last night. What do you think?"

Sneep Snorp looked at the puppet again.

"It's looks pretty much on the mark." Sneep Snorp said. "But...my eyes aren't that big are they?"

Before Ella could answer, Buster arrived from his office.

"I heard yelling, what- oh Sneep Snorp you're here! And I see you met Ella's newest puppet." Buster said.

"You knew about this?" Sneep Snorp asked.

"Only since this morning when Ella showed me." Buster said.

Ella was copying Sneep Snorp's current standing stance with the puppet. Buster tried not to make his smile too easy to spot but it was hard. And when Sneep Snorp turned to face the puppet again the puppet seemed inert, hanging from it's strings

"Can you tell me something, my eyes aren't that big right?" Sneep Snorp asked.

"Well, had to bring out the big ol eyes." Ella said.

Sneep Snorp wasn't sure he liked that. And he was about to let Ella know that when the puppet's head jerked up and was just about right in Sneep Snorp's face. The Sneep Snorp puppet was leaning in a bit too close for Sneep Snorp's liking. And with how the head of he puppet tilted just in just the right way Sneep Snorp would do himself when really looking at something, he was more then a little creeped out.

"I think I've seen enough." Sneep Snorp said in a small voice.

"Okay, okay, backing off." Ella said, pulling the puppet back.

She glanced down to the puppet.

"Don't worry Sneep Snorp the second, I still care about you." she told the puppet.

"I think she has far too much power." Sneep Snorp said to Buster.

"That's our Ella. A force of nature." Buster said.

Ella grinned at that, making the Sneep Snorp puppet nod in agreement.

#sing movie #sing oc #other people's ocs

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nuagederose · 1 year ago

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Forty-Three: Build God, Then We’ll Talk

ao3 link

All week long, Alex kept his eye on Christine, especially when he brought it back in to show her the framing: he also insisted on the inclusion of her signature at one point. He even gave her a brand new pen just for that, and the pressure was especially on her when she did it during class as well. She took off the cap and pressed the tip to the very bottom of the page: careful not to make the frame fall down the wall onto the floor, she lightly signed her name at that very bottom corner on the right.

“Christine has this untapped talent in art,” he explained to the class. “Hence why I've been rather intense about that in particular lately. She just... has it. You know, it's like when you meet someone and they have this utterly beautiful singing voice, and you wonder where it's been all your life. It's just like that.”

She lifted her hand and turned back towards him so everyone in the class could see the drawing as he had perched it against the blackboard. He brought it with him every day that week, and she knew that she had done something to him for him to do that.

“This should be in the Guggenheim,” he declared as he ran his fingers through his black hair. “I really mean that, too. This feels historic. It should be seen where everyone can see it.” He then tapped his pencil on the edge of the podium. “Five hundred word essay on French art! Due next Wednesday.”

“French art?” Christine asked him.

“Yeah! Go read about French art and tell me how you feel about it. Any era you'd like, be it the Renaissance or the modern era—bonus if you can get it to correlate with literature, too. Mr. Hansen offered to help me grade papers so my load's a little lighter this time around.” He rubbed his hands together and took off his glasses. “You all think you can do it?”

“Maybe,” Eric replied with a straight face.

“Oh, come on, Sluggo, it's at least five hundred words! It'll take you twenty minutes. Just tell me how you feel.” He waved his finger in the air as if to dismiss everyone.

“Does that include me?” Christine asked him in a low voice, and Alex glanced up at the drawing.

“I think what you did was plenty,” he replied to her, also in a low voice and with a wink to boot, to which she gasped.

“Alex, for real?”

“For real. A plus plus plus for Miss Peck.” She pressed a hand to her chest and mouthed “thank you” to him, and she scurried over to her book bag and scooped it off the back of her chair. Eric waited for her to put her coat back on, but then she caught a glimpse of Alex picking up the drawing and looking on at it. She hoped that he would take it home and put it in a good place where Captain Howdy wouldn't be able to find it. Christine ran her fingers through her ponytail and then she and Eric walked on out of there and to the hallway.

“I have to pick up Lou again,” he told her.

“Again?”

“Yeah. He's going to be over at Washington Square Park, though. Not that far of a drive this time around.”

“May I ask what he’s doing over there?”

“He’s got car trouble and… just enough change to get a single bus ride back to the park. He called me and said he doesn’t have that much money on him to make it all the way back to Queens. You know, with the feeder buses and whatnot.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

They walked out to the parking lot, where the clouds hung low over their heads. Christine shivered and tugged the lapels of her coat up to her ears.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“A little bit, yeah,” she replied with a shudder and another shiver. Eric fumbled the keys but he caught them before he dropped them on the ground; when he reached the driver’s side door, he was quick to unlock the doors for the two of them. They climbed into the car at the same time, to which Christine shivered some more.

“Goddamn,” she muttered.

“I hope Lou can boogie over to us quickly,” Eric said as he fired up the car. “It’s too cold.”

Even though they made their way back to the street and they reached the archway within no time, they still had very little heat in the actual car itself.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eric grumbled as they pulled up to the curb and climbed out onto the sidewalk together.

“Yeah, it’s actually warmer out here than it is in there,” Christine declared as she joined him on the other side of the car. The fountains were silent for the winter time, but the water still swirled around before them, and they moved around enough for Eric to pick up a few flat stones from the concrete on the way over to the outer rim. Christine shivered and tugged her hood over her head: she hoped that Louie wouldn't be long as she could feel more snow upon them.

“I can't believe he put you on the spot like that,” Eric declared as they reached the water's partially frozen edge. He held the stone between his index finger and his thumb, and he skipped it across the surface: three skips before the head of the fountain at the center of the water.

“Who?” she asked him.

“Alex. He made you sign that drawing right in front of everyone. Totally put you on the spot.”

“He didn’t put me on the spot,” Christine assured him with a shake of her head. “I promise you, I wasn’t put on the spot.”

“If he put you on the spot, you’d be cursing him out, I would think…” His voice trailed off.

“He's very particular, Alex is,” she confessed to him.

“Come to think of it, I would imagine,” Eric replied as he skipped a stone out across the water. “I would imagine you are, too.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that I am particular,” she said. “I like you with the white buttons on your shirt.”

“You like the white buttons?” He adjusted the lapels of his sweater underneath his jacket: he wore a black knit sweater with bright pearly white buttons the width of a cucumber medallion.

“Yeah. I don't know, it's a good look for you. The white buttons bring out the pale round shape of your face. It's like how I imagine Alex looking really good in a white shirt.”

“A plain white shirt or a shirt shirt? Like one that buttons up?”

“Either one,” Christine said. He showed her a little smile as he skipped the third stone, which brought four skips out before it sank on the other side of the fountain head.

“Excellent!” she decreed.

“I’ve gotten ten skips on this fountain here,” he told her. “Lou’s the skip master, though, at thirteen. No idea how he does it, either.”

“Does he like… flick his wrist really quickly or something?”

“I think so? I’ve watched him do it before and I can’t hardly watch him do it because his elbow blocks it.” He brushed off his hands and tucked them into his coat pockets, and shivered a long slow hard and deep shudder there next to her.

“Would you call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend at all?” he then asked her.

“Who? Me and Alex?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know what I would call us, to be perfectly honest,” Christine reluctantly confessed. “He's got a fiancée already and I'm the other woman. But he's never called me the other woman, though.”

“But it is obvious, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Between me and him, absolutely. But neither of us have said anything about it, though—probably because we can't. Whenever we get together, we just talk about stuff, rather than relationship stuff. When there is relationship stuff, it's usually about how his wedding is coming up but he would rather be with me, but he can't make up his mind, though.”

The two of them congregated by the railing of the fountain, just so they could peer into the freezing cold dark water right beneath them. Through the sparse pockets of ice crystals, they could see their own reflections gazing back at them. The feeling of snow lingered in the air over their heads, and Christine knew it was upon them.

“How do you feel about him getting married?” Eric finally asked her.

“I don’t want him to get married,” she replied. “You know, because we’ve had the misfortune of encountering her.”

“Right, right.”

“But at the same time, there’s this huge part of me that feels like I don’t deserve him. He’s perfect and everything I could ever ask for in someone else.”

“He reminds you of Chris,” he followed along.

“He reminds me totally of Chris, yeah,” she said as a few flurries fluttered down from the cold gray sky. “Even down to the nappy, kinky, slightly curly hair and the unusual nose. I’ve also just never… felt worthy of the time and attention of other people, either. Everyone else is good-looking and interesting except me. I have to fight to gain the attention of people, like it's not enough to just be boring. No guy—especially no guy like him—would ever want to be with me, it’s crazy to even think about.”

“You know, if it’s any comfort, I often feel that way,” he assured her.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. What girl wants to be with a short stubby half-Mexican boy with long black hair halfway down his back? Like it baffles me.”

Christine turned her attention towards him and the somber look in his brown eyes.

“This girl,” she said with a point to herself. “At least, be friends with each other. You know, you and I are going to California for some time in a few months.” And his face lit up as she said that.

“Indeed we are!” he chirped. “I’ve got almost enough money saved up for our little trip, too. Just waiting for my next refund to come through.”

“Beautiful!”

Something caught her eye right then, and she gazed past him to see the black newsboy cap over the head of black hair and a black pea coat on the other side of the fountain. A part of her wondered as to why she was there, especially when she lived further up along the spine of New York, but she would have to save that question for later.

“What?” Eric turned his attention behind him.

“Valentina!” Christine called out to her. “Valentina! Hi!”

“Hey!” she called out to them. She skirted around the side of the fountain and fixed the lapels of her coat all the while. “What're you guys doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Christine declared once she came within earshot. “We're waiting for a friend to come in on the bus.”

“I'm waiting for that same bus, too,” Valentina replied. “Marlene wants me to come and help her with some things.”

Christine then glanced over to Eric, who still folded his arms over the railing around the fountain and kept his attention fixed on those cold waters. They were leaving for California in June, and Alex's wedding took place in July. Not enough time once she put some thought about it and when she realized that the gray sky overhead only lasted for so long before it turned blue again. The hourglass only had so much sand in it.

“I have to think of a plan to interrupt that wedding,” she told her, to which Valentina showed her a smile.

“You’ve come to the right person. And we’ve got time, too.”

“Not that much, though,” Eric pointed out.

“Yes, but we really do have time,” Valentina insisted as she joined the two of them there. “First things first, do either of you know if you're invited or not?”

“Not at all,” Christine replied with a shake of her head.

“Okay, that's going to be a touch more difficult. We can always sneak in—especially if it's an outdoors wedding.”

“It's going to be Fourth of July weekend, so I reckon it'll be outdoors.”

“Okay. And I assume there's going to be booze there.”

“Knowing how Alex likes his wine, absolutely,” she decreed.

“You're gonna drink him under the table?” Eric followed along with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Val's one part Ukrainian and three parts Romanian, she can do it,” Christine assured him.

“I was also think of doing it to her, but I imagine it having a better effect on him,” Valentina said with a chuckle.

“Or you could do it the night before and give him a hangover,” Eric suggested. “And one such that he won't want to partake in it.”

“Hey, yeah! The night before during his bachelor party.” “But it's going to be a bachelor party, though,” Christine pointed out. “No girls allowed.”

Valentina held onto the brim of her hat and raised her eyebrows, and Christine gaped at her.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously! Eric is going to introduce Alex to his new friend Victor.”

Christine rounded Eric with her arm outstretched.

“You're Batman,” she told her.

“I am Batman!” Valentina declared with a chuckle.

“Dude—”

“Dude.” They gave each other a high five.

“I assume the other Sundaes are going to come along, too,” Christine quipped.

“I'll ask Sabrina if she wants to partake in the fun. You know, 'cause she and I are so close. I have no idea if Marlene and Colette are going to have time then, but I'll ask them, too.”

The bus lumbered up from behind the corner behind her and she hastily gathered herself.

“Looks like that's my ride,” she told them.

“What else are we going to do once we drink Alex under the table, though?” Eric asked her.

“Chris is gonna come in and make it all better for him,” Valentina declared as the bus came closer to the back of Eric's car. “He'll be far removed from his bride to be, and he'll hopefully have his feelings invested in the right place. It's simple, but we can only hope that it's airtight.”

The bus pulled up to the curb and the door squeaked open. She held onto her hat as she neared the open doorway, and at the same time, Louie almost stumbled right out of the back half of the bus. He flashed the driver a wave as he strolled on over to Eric and Christine.

“I just think of what Nelly said about them,” she confessed to him. “How they’re trouble.”

“Who, the Sundaes? The four girls who sat behind us in Mr. Hansen’s class?”

“Yeah. I remember her distinctly telling me that, too. But it’s weird, though, it’s like she had a change of heart or something. In fact, when she came back to school the other day, I mentioned to her that I spent the night with Valentina and she never bat a lash.”

“Interesting. I also hope it can all go according to plan and you can get to Alex in time, too.”

“I hope so, too. My one fear is that he can actually see through her disguise, or that neither of you can get into that party…” Her voice trailed off as Louie entered within earshot. She also had the pervasive fear that anyone from the outside, be it Louie or anyone else, figured out as to what they were doing.

#Spotify #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic with art #chapter 43 #alex skolnick #eric peterson #oc art #traditional art #traditional drawing #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #testament #testament band

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 years ago

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Hear me out... Elliot and Brian realizing someone they're traveling with/hanging out with is way more dangerous than they realized? (maybe human shield or finger in the mail if you want to bthb it)

BTHB 2023 - Fill 14 - Finger In The Mail

Oh you know I want to BTHB this c: Anyway time for a brand new character!

TWs: severed body part

"Oh, oh, Sharp, have you tried the wing place down the road? Over by the supermarket?" Brian asked, one elbow propped up in the open window of Sharp's car. "Apparently they have this challenge that's like. Actually insane, almost impossible."

Sharp laughed, eyes crinkling shut as he shook his head. "No, I haven't. Are they good?"

"I dunno," Elliot chimed in from the front seat. "I couldn't taste anything, my tongue went numb after the first two. Plus they're messy, you'd get your nice office shirt dirty." He added, eying the pristine white button down that Sharp wore for their outing that afternoon.

Sharp shrugged, pulling to an easy stop at a red light. "Oh, I'm not afraid of a little mess. Or spice. I haven't met a pepper I haven't liked before."

Elliot shook his head. "Man, I don't get people who like those levels of heat." He crossed one long leg over the other as the light turned green. "I get the pain and pleasure thing, trust me, but isn't there just a point where it stops? Like at two AM when it's wrecking your stomach?"

"I think it's just fun." Sharp said, with a softer smile. "There's a point where it stops registering in the brain, and it just becomes a feeling. Does that make sense? You go beyond what you can even understand as pain, and then it's just it's own, new thing."

"I think I get it." Brian said, fiddling with her shimmering phone case. "When I got turned, it was the worst pain I've ever been in? But there was definitely a point where even though it hurt, it didn't hurt."

"Yes!" Sharp said, bouncing in his seat and enthusiastically patting the steering wheel. "Yes, you get it Brian, that's exactly it. I--oh, hang on, I need to mail something." He said, eyebrows jumping up as he spotted a public mailbox. "Is that okay?"

Brian and Elliot both shrugged. "Sure man, why not?" Elliot said, taking a sip from his fizzing energy drink.

Sharp carefully pulled into the parking lot, up next to the mailbox. "Thank you! I've been meaning to do this since this morning, you know how it is." He reached into his center console and pulled out an envelope. The addresses were neatly printed in pen on the yellow paper, and Sharp gave the flap a quick lick to activate the glue. "Brian, could you hand me the bag from my cooler back there?"

"Umm," Brian said, leaning over to the small, blue cooler in the floor of the back seat. "This one?"

"Yeah, yeah, there's only one thing in there."

Hesitantly, manicured fingers reached for the white lid. She couldn't explain it, but the fact that she hadn't noticed the cooler before bothered her. Something felt gross about it.

It was like the condensation on the outside was more than just water.

She pulled it open. There was a plastic baggie inside, resting on top of ice. Inside, with the baggie wrapped around and around it, lay a discolored human finger.

With an easy smile, Brian picked it up and passed it forward. Elliot's shoulder's tensed, just so, as he undoubtedly caught sight of what Sharp was slipping into the envelope. Sharp slid it inside the yellow paper, then licked the glue again, and pressed the envelope closed. It slid into the mailbox with just a whisper.

Brian closed the cooler.

"Alrighty, that was my only errand for today." Sharp said, smiling brightly at Brian and Elliot. "Wanna go see if I can conquer those wings?"

"Actually," Brian started, before Elliot could open his mouth. She started rolling the window up, leaning back in her seat with her head against the fabric. "I'm feeling a little sick? I think I forgot my sunblock--I didn't think the sun was gonna be so intense today."

Sharp frowned, his brow creasing in concerns. "Oh no, is there anything I need to pick up for you? Vampire sports drink or something?" He asked, brown eyes meeting Brian's fluttery green.

"No, no I...I think I should go home, I'm sorry." Brian said, leaning away from the sun in her seat. "Would...it be alright if you dropped us off? We can do the wing thing some other time, maybe?"

"Of course! You can just text or whatever, you know I'm a nine-to-five guy." Sharp said, pulling out of the parking lot. He drove carefully the whole way to Brian and Elliot and William and Jackson's apartment, taking turns slow and smooth. He even avoided the speed bumps at the entrance of their complex.

When Elliot and Brian got out, with Elliot draping his jacket over Brian's head and offering her an arm, Sharp waved. "Feel better Brian!" He called, car idling where it was as they went up the stairs.

Elliot made a show of closing the blinds as soon as he got inside. "What...the fuck?" He whispered in the cool darkness, as though Sharp was the one with supernatural healing.

"What the fuck." Brian agreed, flopping down on the couch and letting herself try to relax. "I'm not getting wings with him."

"Absolutely not."

Sharp's car was gone by the time they dared to peek through the blinds.

#bad things happen bingo #bthb #finger in the mail #severed body part #lightning eyes and alibis #what if this storm ends #the coworker #sharp is new and I love him and this drabble happened in thirty minutes so clearly he wanted to be written #who am I to say no

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hadikaesque · 2 years ago

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#hadika experiences basic human interaction #yesterday before exam i borrowed a pen from my friend #bc the barrel of my pen fell off (?)#i forgot to return it after exam #we had plan to go out today so i thought i would return it today #then yeah i took the pen with me but completely forgot about it again 😗#in the second part of hangout we went to a super shop #when she was wandering around the pen section and trying out some #that's when i remembered ab her pen #and quickly pulled it out from my bag and handed it to her (without properly saying something)#and she didn't take it 😬 she was saying things like no i'm looking for a brown inked pen #she is actually very very nice person and ofc she wasn't hinting at me 😭#but did she think i took it as a hint and felt embarassed? 😭#bc she refused to take the pen back i want to kms #when she gave me the pen it was brand new and even though it's just a regular ballpoint pen i feel really bad about it #wish i could just talk 😭😢#what should i say to her? will it get weirder if i bring up the topic again?

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velvet-paradox · 2 years ago

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Curious (Preview)

Fandom: Outer Banks

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female reader + mentions of past relations with Topper Thorton

--> I've had this thot in my head for months and it's finally coming together, this a Noir AU; in which Topper seeks Rafe's expertise in finding the one who got away (you of course!) but will he give his friend the deets or attempt to keep you all for himself instead?

ENJOY!!!

He was thankful to be putting away that steel bladed fan, chipped army green base and all into one of the storage closest in the office, he hefted it, teetering just a little from the weight in the base out to the hall. He slicked back his hair, neat and tidy, back into place after dusting his hands of the thing. Autumn was coming, storm clouds and much needed and beloved thunderstorms were on the horizon. Rafe's favorite time of year.

The season when he wasn't sweating through his shirts, even the spare ones he had hung up in a cabinet in his office. He lost count of the times he had to strip himself of his shirts while he plugged away, hanging them on the window rod to dry out. The cat would be happy too, she hated the heat just as much, Rafe liked to think.

And speak of the devil and he (or she) will appear, the calico in question simply and appropriately named Penny pounced onto the windowsill. Rafe scratched her little head, pleased that she was purring and enjoying the cool night air when there was a sharp rapping on the frosted office door.

Rafe frowned and looked at his watch, one that his father had hand picked when he came home with another chip of sobriety. They were closed and he told the manly silhouette on the opposite side the same fact.

"Aw come on, open up Rafe it's me!"

He sighed and shook his head, he opened the door staring into the smooth face of Topper Thorton. Just a titch shorter in his brand new boat shoes, slacks and cozy looking cardigan. He was season ready as well, Rafe thought as he leaned on the door frame.

"Still means we're closed."

"Don't be like that!" Topper huffed and pushed his way past Rafe, who grumbled at the intrusion but didn't feel up to a fight tonight, so he let it go and shut the door behind him. "I've got a favor to ask and I'll even pay you this time."

"Damn right you're gonna' pay me! what mania is it this time or do I dare ask?" Rafe gave Penny another pat on the head before taking out a cigarette and leaning against the secretary's desk.

"I had a dream, you see. It was so incredibly real and vivid and when I woke up, I thought I knew for sure, without a shadow of a doubt it was completely real." Topper explained.

"That good, huh? what sort of pills are you on now then? I might have half a mind to ask for one."

"No Rafe, that's the thing. I was stone cold sober! not a lick of a buzz." Topper was on cloud nine from the looks of it, speaking most animatedly with his hands.

"So, you had a dream, thought it was real and now you're in my office after hours, for what exactly?" Rafe questioned as he smoked, clouds filling the air and right out the window, Penny took her leave and scurried around Topper's feet into Rafe's office.

"It was about a girl. And not just any girl, mind you. The one who got away."

"You mean the one you let get away. And rightfully so!" Rafe pointed his cigarette at him with a smirk, knowing exactly who he was referring.

They didn't go to the same college but had kept in touch, pen pals and making sure all was swell for the other. On a random quiet spell away from the dorms, Topper had come back to the County and showed off a few small photographs of a few of his elite friends, girls and the ever regarded...

"Never mind all that, it was her. Y/N Y/L/N, what a gal. The best gal, if we're being honest. I haven't thought about her since college, since she broke my heart and put out my fire. But she was there, in my dream, clear as the day is long, calling to me ‘Topper come back, come back to me Top'..."

Rafe recalled your face, though a bit dodgy and mirage-like after so long but your exaggerated body language which wasn't the norm amongst other dames he knew, on the street, at work or between the sheets, was quite curious to him. That one photograph of you making a silly face, one that was usually seen in Men’s' dorms or between the same kin had made him chuckle and wonder about you.

Rafe had to snort at that. "Are you sure you didn't drink your dinner last night, Top?"

"Of course I'm sure! what do you take me as? Some rummy? No no, no hooch. I promise. But that dream got me thinking about the old girl and... dammit Rafe I need to know!"

"Need to know what?"

"What has become of her of course! How and what did she do in this life? Hw did she make her way in this world. Is she happily married with a couple of brats, is she just some spinster living out a lavish life on some yacht somewhere, with an umbrella in her glass. My mind has been reeling all day and I finally talked myself into coming down here and telling you all about it. So, will you be a real pal and help me out?"

Tagging: @synnersaint @cherienymphe @starkeyobx @outerbankspov @cockslutpadalecki @poguesarerogues @valeriiecameron

#rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #coming soon fic #rafe obx #topper thorton imagine #obx imagine #obx fic #outer banks imgaine #outer banks fic

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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myezblog · 2 years ago

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Things that don’t matter, yet matter

1. This is his going commondo pants from ep 7 handjob scene

2. Priorities!!.. Change shirt first.. i told you Vegas and Kim are similar (both going from white to black)

3. Not a good brand promotion, specially when Apple is known for security

Also, why do you need to loginto the cctv network to run a pen drive on your laptop?? Which idiot would use a new pendrive on server?

Lol.. and mcbook air as per the annual reports latest quarter earning announcement was one of the highest selling product.. h ehe.. bad promotion

4. The first time he actually utters his name. Just saying! Not that it matters... and its chay, not porschay.. you know chay, as in the guitar pic chay.. because Porschay gave him the right to associate chay with kim

5. Amateur Shot!.. Dear Pond, next time.. the shirt needs to go way way up.. it is all for making better art.. truly :P

6. If you need proof of how well Kim fights ( the guy is still reeling from that ONE punch.. K, V.. take classes)

7. I am very serious about energy conservation.. this is not cool.. Mr. pond.. take notes

8. Liike, all i need to do is pull that ear ring so hard, that the pain will have you on your knees.. How Easy!!.. (kinn needs to go through basics of mafia training, pretty sure daddy paid money to have him pass the exam.. NEPOTISM CARD) .. (chill.. this one really is a joke, nepotism isn’t though)

9. Do you have contact lens to fight in the field..

10. I guess, only lover can call “Chay”

9. 4 moles on this side of the face. it is an exam question. Don’t fight with me on this.

10. Inner monologue “Why am i always stuck with idiots and morons and such stupid beings”

9. Bit of palmistry here.. you see the two prominent lines around the thumb, running as parallel .. a lot of people have these intersect or converge at some point (you can check yours)

Simply means, this person is very strong willed and minded and opinionated.. he/she will do what he/she wants to do.. which includes personal and romantic relationship.. so ya.. not the one you can control..

Yes, its build hand, so build’s psyche.. but you know.. pete ain’t so far off

11. Either you are a bad actor, or Pond has some weird comic taste :P . how am i to buy this “in love with you, obsessed with you, insecured that you might actually like porsche” face

but then you look like a villain with that constant smug look

12. lol.. this relationship.. who is manipulating whom?.. Tawan has his own bodyguards who will willingly go against Vegas

13. inner monologue 2 -> we got tired of pointing guns at each other.. these guys are taking too many takes to get this scene done..

13. Told you, not important yet important.. there is a mole there

14. There was no need to try so hard to prove this point. Even his dad knows it.. everyone does

14. Take lessons Kinn.. take out your ear ring when going to battlefield.. otherwise.. very easy to get you on your knees.. fighting 101

15. Personally, want to see what acting prowess will he show to differentiate this scene from when he kisses pete..

16. The guy on the right, in blue.. lol.. he changed his position after dying. .and i guess watching the show from heaven.. sorry dude.. shooting still going on

17. Bad shooting skills. None of the main characters can kill right by shooting

18. 3 moles on this side of the face. Told you it is an exam question (4 , if you count the one in the ear)

19. Not perked up, he is not excited.. lol..now i need to compare it when he is with pete ( in some alternate universe because BOC ain’t giving more than 2 min of VP in this season for sure)

20. it ain’t gold.. that’s all i am saying

21. And this too

22. This timestamp, i didn’t realize the first time round.. vegas kissed tawan on the neck.. and there is the voice for it...

Dude real trust issues.. when you pull this off with pete.. i am going to second guess

23. ok, fine.. he calls him chay too

24. Allow me to complete the sentence again

“... give him time, just as I gave my little brother time.. we haven’t spoken in eternity, and see we are doing just fine! “

26. 3 brothers but really not similar

26. you lied to me.. my entire timeline is thrown out of the window.. you said you will appear in ep 12

27. Inner monologue:

Chess is a game of finesses. Why am I stuck amongst these goons. Should really just put out a job notice on looking for a heir for an age old mafia corporate

28. half leg waxed, half not.. is that a style?

#kinnporsche #kinnporche the series #kinn porsche #kinn x porsche #kinnporsche cast

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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

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First Lady of the Court

Part 3: Ghostbur (C!Wilbur Soot x reader)

A worn journal was opened, the pages faded and yellowing, a pen was placed on the parchment and the owner began to write. The sun rose over the horizon, and the wind nipped at the writer's skin, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t feel many of life's sensations anymore, sometimes he felt warmth but it was always fleeting. He titled the page:

"Things I Remember", by Ghostbur

-The smell of bread

- L'Manberg

- The Revolution

- Bullying Tommy (he's a child)

- Sparring with Techno as a kid

- The wind

- Being president

- People cheering for me

- Fundy growing up

- Niki

- (Y/N) becoming my first lady

- The van

- Tubbo building everything

- Phil protecting me

- Sally the salmon

- (Y/N) the new love of my life

- (Y/N) adoring Fundy and treating him as her own

- Philza stabbing me to death with a sword

- A large explosion

-(Y/N) crying for me, I don’t like when she’s sad

- The taste of salt

- Air in my lungs

- Winning the election

- A ravine

- Techno's armory

- Books

- Tunnels

- Arrows

- ./..

- I don't know

The ghost’s head snapped up to attention, up until a few months ago he was lost in a void of darkness. Pieces were coming back together for him, he was once Wilbur Soot the president of the country he fought and died for, but now he didn’t have a purpose. He wanted to find Fundy, Tommy and Phil let them know he was here and alright, well alright for a ghost. But most importantly he wanted to find (Y/N), her cries wouldn’t leave his head. It was bad, a bad, bad memory, he’d taken to holding pieces of blue to make him feel better, but even that didn’t help his mood.

Eventually, Wilbur had found Fundy, who wasn’t that thrilled to see him, much to his disappointment. When he found Tommy he was slightly more thrilled and Phil seemed to be relieved yet mournful, Wilbur didn’t understand why, he did a good thing. However he had yet to find her, Phil seemed to be the only one who knew but he was giving him nothing. He didn’t know why was it because you didn’t want to see him? The thought made him want to cover himself in blue and beg for forgiveness. He managed to find a brand new buddy in his mourning, a blue sheep he had dubbed Friend. You would love her, (Y/N) adored sheep she would love Friend, she could be a forgiveness gift. Yet, nobody would tell the ghost where you were no matter how much he begged and pleaded, he watched as his once-prosperous country got rebuilt. Tubbo was doing a fantastic job as president, everyone seemed happy and Ghostbur accepted that fact.

A few days ago, Ghostbur sensed something was wrong. Phil was acting weirdly distant and even though Tubbo was trying to dodge his questions, he couldn’t fathom what was going on, until he saw you. You had come in wearing Alivebur’s old jacket and Ghostbur immediately froze, your hair was slightly messy and you looked tired. You were still you, same gorgeous, beautiful you, if his heart was still beating it would’ve skipped a beat. The only difference he could find was that your eyes looked deader than his own, and he was a ghost, it made him ache terribly. He wanted to float towards you, to welcome you with open arms but for some reason, he hesitated. He watched as Phil made his way over to you, he wrapped you in a hug and you hugged him back, the two made some small talk before Phil rubbed the back of his neck. Your brow furrowed and he watched you blink in surprise, you looked over Phil’s shoulder and right through Wilbur. The ghost would’ve flushed if he had blood, instead he settled on fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater before holding up a hand in a wave. You stumbled back away from him looking over at Phil who gave a little nod, Wilbur watched you shake your head and his heart sunk. His father reached out to you and your face scrunched up, you were hissing at him, clearly pissed off. Phil whacked you on the back of his head and you glared at the older man, Wilbur felt a small nudge on his arm, it was Friend. He took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through her wool, at least she had his back, when he looked up again you were marching over to him.

God, you were hot when you were mad.

“(Y/n)! Darling! It’s good to see you-”

“You son of a bitch!” You spat at him, eyes suddenly blazing with life and fire, Ghostbur felt himself falter and shrink into himself. “You think you can just come back here after what you did to us! How you treated us, how you treated me!” Ghostbur’s face fell, he didn’t remember hurting you, he refused to remember that memory, but the way he clutched his blue said enough. “I loved you! I wanted to marry you!” You choked out suddenly deflating as tears began to well in your eyes, you cursed and covered your face with your sleeve. “I cannot believe I’m crying right now.”

“You need some blue?” Wilbur said in a soft, tender voice different than you last remembered. You looked out over your sleeve finally taking in his ghostly appearance, he was wearing his big, round glasses, eyes a soft grey. Blue seemed to be pooling in the edges almost like tears, he had a shaky smile on his features, the yellow sweater he wore was one you’ve never seen before, a large red gash sat on his chest. He watched you swallow thickly and take a step back from him, “I don’t remember what happened to make you hate me so dear.” His voice quivered and he heard you whimper, “But I am so sorry...you can call me Ghostbur, I want to be different from Alivebur. Though his love for you still lives in me.”

Ghostbur watched you let out a heart-wrenching sob as you fell to your knees in front of him. You were clutching the L’manburg pin on your lapel, knuckles white, hands shaking in petrification. He floated beside you and wrapped you up in his arms, the hug wasn’t unwelcome but it was cold, Wilbur knew you’d feel no warmth from it but he hoped it’d bring you some form of comfort.

“I missed you. So much,” You admitted with a sniff, and Ghostbur couldn’t help but smile sadly.

“I missed you too,” He ran a hand through your hair and you leaned into the apparition's ghostly touch. Ghostbur glanced up at Phil who had a tense smile on his face as he nodded slightly at the ghost, it read don’t hurt her again, and Wilbur nodded. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you, you need to meet Friend!” His eyes lit up a little as he looked around for his blue sheep, “You’ll love her!”

“I’ve been living with Fundy,” You answered his question and his brows furrowed, but Fundy had told him he had no idea where you lived. “We’ve been taking care of one another, just like I promised you we would,” You responded flatly, your voice had a flat affect and Wilbur shuffled uncomfortably in the air.

Where was your spark? Your lust for life and the good things? Was this his fault?

No. No, it couldn’t have been, he refused to accept that outcome.

Alivebur loved you just as much as Ghostbur did, he felt that love so deep in his being it was almost suffocating. So, he’d never hurt you, you don’t hurt the people you love and that’s a fact. So why were you so sad?

“That’s weird. Fundy said he couldn’t find you!” Ghostbur huffed, shaking his head at his son's actions, “My silly, little champion.”

“Ghostbur don’t call him that, he doesn’t like it.” You stated gruffly crossing your arms and his frown only deepened,

“What do you mean he doesn’t like it? Of course, he likes it, he loves it!”

“No Wil he doesn’t. Stop it.” You hissed and he flinched, your face fell a little and you turned away from him. You shoved your hands in the pockets of the jacket, “I need a smoke.” You muttered and his jaw dropped,

“That’s bad for you! You know that!”

“So what? It makes me fucking feel better. You’re not my Wilbur. Stop pretending you give a shit about me.”

“I do care! I love you!” He argued desperately, “I know I’m not him. I can never be him but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. His love transferred to me, please...give me a chance.” You looked at him up and down and he’s never felt more terrified in his entire existence, he needed your hope, he could fix you.

“You don’t understand how much he hurt me.” You whispered completely vulnerable, “he went crazy, blew up a nation, and left me alone.”

He. Meaning Alivebur, Ghostbur was glad he was distinguishing the difference between the both of them. He didn’t remember doing that to you, after all, Ghostbur didn’t do that to you.

“I’ll never leave you alone. I can promise you that, with my whole heart I swear it.” He took your hands within his own, he knew you could barely feel his touch. You closed your eyes for a minute before reopening them,

“I’ll give you one chance. One. So help me god, if you ruin that chance I will never speak to you again. That’s a promise.”

Ghostbur swallowed thickly, nerves prickling at his entire being, “I won’t waste that chance, my dear.” You gave a stern nod and rubbed the back of your neck with a tired sigh,

“So...Friend?”

Ghostbur’s entire demeanor changed as he introduced you to the blue sheep that had taken a rather strong liking to him. The sheep nuzzled at your chest sniffing at your clothing choice, you hesitated a little before running your fingers through her wool.

“She’s very soft.”

“I know right!” he chimed wrapping his arms tight around his sheepy buddy, he buried his face in her wool. Ghostbur saw a weary smile spread across your face which made him smile back at you in return.

Maybe this could still work out for the both of you.

Months went by and you had set up residence outside of New L’manburg, everyone understood why you couldn’t make a permanent home out of the new country after everything that occurred there. In between watching over an exiled Tommy, Ghostbur would come by and visit you, even though you hated to admit it the ghost of your former lover had won you over. He was just so innocent so unlike the man who blew up his own country, so much like the goofball you had originally fallen in love with, you were enraptured. When New L’manburg blew up you weren’t surprised, there was a dull ache in your heart when you heard the news from a sobbing Ghostbur but you couldn’t feel sympathy. What you did feel sympathy about though was Phil’s uncaring attitude towards Friend, it was the first time you heard Ghostbur get legitimately angry.

It scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Even so, you confronted your former lover; he didn’t like sadness and tried to push the feeling away. You tried to comfort him the best way you could but he insisted he was fine opting to take his blue and forget his sadness. That was another thing, his quote on quote blue, it never did sit right with you. Hurt, sadness, and pain are hard emotions to face but they create character and depth and ultimately shouldn’t just be forgotten so easily, after all, how will you ever learn from your mistakes if you don’t experience sadness. Ghostbur didn’t want to hear your reasoning and still took towards using the blue, you eventually gave up trying to convince him otherwise.

You were sitting outside on your porch, rocking on your porch swing a cup of cocoa in your hand. Ghostbur was sitting beside you, head on your shoulder humming a soft tune to himself,

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Ghostbur had asked so innocently it made your heart leap into your throat. Thoughts of Wilbur and his betrayal flashed across your mind, you wanted to scream and say no. That you’ll never let someone like that hurt you again, you were too strong, you opened your mouth but the hope in Ghostbur’s eyes made you close your mouth. This wasn’t the Wilbur you knew, this was Ghostbur, sure he was the ghost of Wilbur but they were so different. Ghostbur made you happy, he made you remember what it was like to be a good person, made you remember what it was like when you first met Wilbur. He made you smile and laugh, and he genuinely adored and cared for your happiness. You found yourself uttering a soft okay before your brain could comprehend your decision, the smile that lit up across Ghostbur’s face was illuminating. He floated over to you and cupped your cheeks, his pale hands were freezing, but it felt good against your scalding hot cheeks. Ghostbur’s eyes softened as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft kiss, the kiss was cold but not unpleasant. You felt him melt against you, and press desperately on to your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle you felt him pull away. He had the cutest pout on his pale lips,

“Don’t giggle at my kisses!” Ghostbur sounded so offended, you only laughed harder. “Stopppppppp,” he whined leaning against you dramatically.

“I’m sorry Ghostbur.” You covered your mouth with your hand, “You’re just too cute.”

You watched him freeze at your genuine compliment, a smile broke across his features,

“No, you’re cute!” Ghostbur cooed floating around you and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You leaned into his touch with bright red cheeks,

“You’re a goofball,” You whispered softly, he nuzzled his face into your hair,

“I love you.” You froze in his arms and tensed up, reality crashing back onto all at once. Did you really kiss your dead lover's ghost? The lover who was a fucking asshole to you and blew up an entire country.

Not a girl boss moment.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Ghostbur was quick to add, “I know how hard this is for you. There’s no pressure with me my dear, I just want you to know how I feel.” He pressed the sweetest of kisses to the side of your head. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not out of sadness, out of shock. You couldn’t believe Ghostbur was once Wilbur, the same man you yelled and screamed at you before his death, Ghostbur was wonderful. Ghostbur was kind and sweet, gentle and tender, one day you’d be ready to say you love him, just not yet, not when everything is so fresh.

“Thank you Ghostbur. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Anything for you my dear.”

Months turned into years and you had officially fallen in love with your clingy ghost and his blue sheep. You knew he loved you to absolute bits, there were many occasions where Phil and Technoblade came up to you and begged you to get Ghostbur to stop gushing about you. You only turned red and smiled fondly, they scoffed but ruffled your hair, overall both were happy to see you smiling again. You hadn’t kept up with the dramas of the SMP, all your information was from Ghostbur, which happened to be not all that reliable.

You loved him but he was so naive, Tommy and Tubbo had defeated Dream, taken two of his cannon lives, and locked him in Sam’s prison. When Ghostbur told you a smile overtook your features, finally the bastard was getting what he deserved.

Isolation.

Tommy was growing closer with Ghostbur again too, which you couldn’t help but be happy about, he too deserved to heal from the trauma Wilbur had inflicted. You trusted Tommy, even when everyone else didn’t you tried to have his back and showed you he cared in his own weird way. Which mostly meant not stealing your shit, which you weren’t complaining about, today, however, he seemed tense. You both were walking the Prime Path on your way back to your abode, Tommy was loud and rambling, but they were different from his usual ramblings.

“Tommy?”

“What is it, women? I’m in the middle of my heroic story!”

“Are you alright?” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him go rigid. He cleared his throat shaking away his nerves,

“Fuck you talking about? Of course, I’m okay bitch. Don’t interrupt me again!” He scoffed nose high in the air, you narrowed your eyes and he shrunk under your gaze. “I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, you thought about his resurrection and assumed it had something to do with that, your gaze drifted to the white streaks littering his hair.

“Hey...it’s okay. Just know I’m here for you,” You assured with a smile. You reached up to squeeze his shoulder, he looked shocked at the affectionate gesture,

“Obviously I know that! Don’t assume things bitch!” Tommy shouted shaking off your hand, you shook your head with a smile and let Tommy continue his story. If the young boy wanted to tell you, he would on his own terms. That night Ghostbur had come home absolutely shaking with excitement,

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo said we’re going on an adventure tonight!” Ghostbur was absolutely glowing, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at his antics.

“Don’t have too much fun.” You chastised teasingly, ghostbur giggled in delight as you pressed a kiss to his cold skin. “Stay safe, don’t let them bully you too much.”

“They don’t bully me,” he huffed but he leaned in for another kiss. Ghostbur had discovered he loved your kisses, even though they were probably cold to you all he felt was warmth. If he was a hybrid like his son his tail would be wagging, and if he was alive he’d be bright red. “I love you (y/n), of course, I’ll stay safe. I promised you I’d never leave you remember?”

You flushed and nodded, “I remember. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Until then my dear!” He took your hand within his own and kissed the tops of your knuckles. You flushed pink and he sent you a cheeky grin,

“Get out of here loverboy! Don’t keep the children waiting!” You shouted as he floated out the door with a giant wave,

“I’ll be sending you kisses!”

“Ghostbur oh my god, go already!” You giggled with a fond roll of your eyes, he laughed loudly and floated out the door.

You should’ve told him you loved him. It’s okay, there would always be tomorrow.

You were getting ready for bed when Tubbo called you over the walkie-talkie, he was frantically apologizing and pleading for you to come to the crater that was L’manburg. Tommy then stole the walkie talking and started shouting about Ghostbur and your heart sink into your chest. He didn’t make a whole lot of sense but you put on a coat over your pajamas and ran in the direction of the once-prosperous nation. When you got there Tubbo and Tommy were a mess, Ranboo was trying to calm them down and Friend looked uncomfortable.

Where was Ghostbur?

You opened your mouth to call out to the boys when a pair of arms snuck around your waist. They were warm and real, pale hands caressed your abdomen,

“Hi, darling. Did you miss me?” Warm lips handed on your neck, “I missed you.”

Wilbur was back.

~~~ @blossom-702 @mayempress @thatguythatsshy

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infernal-fire · 3 years ago

Text

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line.

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story.

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often.

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now.

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly.

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging.

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.”

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips.

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around.

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed.

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled.

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood.

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there.

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it.

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you.

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form.

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night.

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head.

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move.

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this.

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door.

At least you knew it was possible to escape now.

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor.

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours.

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself.

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again.

“Stop! Don’t!”

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately.

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped.

“Don’t try to escape.”

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded.

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars.

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you.

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off.

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin.

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet.

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned.

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again.

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice.

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire.

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running.

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it.

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint.

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises.

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house.

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side.

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm.

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide.

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner.

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes.

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed.

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you.

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase.

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson.

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to.

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room.

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.”

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs.

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.”

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space.

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you.

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where.

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment.

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point.

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me.

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated.

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table.

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard.

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language.

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced.

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape.

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused.

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas.

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

#dark! steve rogers #dark mcu #Dark Fic #dark marvel #dark!steve #dark!steve x you #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n

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