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delicatebarness · 2 days

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i cant read your mind | chapter four

Summary: The journey to Madripoor.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout. Zemo.

Word Count: 1148

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A/N: If I didn't split this episode up then this chapter would have been too long for my brain to be okay with. The next one is gonna be looooong.

Strolling down the prison corridors, the sterile white tiles and harsh fluorescent light amplified a feeling of isolation, as well as a headache. “I’m gonna go alone,” Bucky admitted, addressing both you and Sam. Just as Sam questioned his decision, you objected with a firm “No,” as your mind went back to the last time Bucky was alone with Zemo.

“You’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky continued, answering Sam's question as he shot you a warning glance that silently said, “Don’t push it,”. You didn’t say anything else while he gave Sam more reasons for him to go alone, you let out a sigh as you watched him leave.

Anxiety began to rise throughout your body as you stood waiting, Sam sensed your apprehension about the return of The Winter Soldier. “He’ll be alright,” he said as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

Your hand instinctively reached up to rub your neck as you responded, “I’ll believe it when he comes back and doesn’t attempt to kill me,” your memories flooded with your first encounter with Bucky. “Again.”

That day on the bridge changed you. Never before had you been on a mission that came so close to disaster. His right hand effortlessly closed around your neck, you tried to fight back with punches, and kicks and even tried reaching for your gun. He maintained a distance that prevented you from gaining any ground.

Just in the last second, the shield slammed into his back, which forced him to release his grip, sending you tumbling to the ground.

Your eyes sparked with relief at Bucky’s return, and his expression mirrored yours. You suppressed the urge to rush forward and embrace Bucky, absent from The Winter Soldier. As he walked over to you, he instructed you and Sam to follow him.

Guided by Bucky, you ventured into the dimly lit garage, relying on flashlights and Bucky’s hand to navigate. You reached for it the second you stepped into the darkness and stuck close to him as he and Sam debated the merits and risks of freeing Zemo. The tension in the air kept you silent until Bucky located the light switch. With a sigh of relief, you exhaled deeply. As you relaxed into the newfound brightness, you slipped your hand out of Bucky’s.

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky retorted to Sam. Recognizing his tone of voice, betraying his statement, you knew he had indeed done something. Concern gripped you as you wondered what it could be. Your attention was focused on him as he outlined a plan to free Zemo.

Startled by the door slamming shut, you instinctively moved toward the source. To your surprise, it was Zemo. He strolled into the garage as if it was his own. Maybe it was? “What the fuck, Bucky?!” you exclaimed, joining Sam in a heated exchange with Bucky about this turn of events. As Zemo attempted to interject, all three of you shut him down with a simultaneous “No!”.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You both broke the law, and you stuck your necks out for me.” Bucky shifted his gaze between you and Sam, the weight of the past heavy in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “I’m asking you to do it again.” he pleaded, his gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You nodded, affirming your loyalty to Bucky as Sam commanded rules to Zemo before agreeing.

Sitting on a private jet beside Bucky and across from Zemo felt surreal. Their casual conversation with Sam about Marvin Gaye seemed out of place, prompting you to feign sleep, keeping your eyes closed for most of the journey. Your attention snapped back to them when they mentioned Madripoor, the destination you headed to. Intrigue sparked within you as Zemo started the topic of disguises. They have secretly been one of your favorite aspects of being an agent since the beginning.

“Don’t touch her,” Bucky’s voice growled a warning, causing you to snap out of your feigned sleep. You opened your eyes just in time to see Zemo reaching towards your shoulder. Grateful for Bucky’s protective instinct, you glanced around feeling disoriented. Bucky was almost on his feet, presumably to stop Zemo physically.

“Apologies,” Zemo directed to Bucky, who seemed to calm down after Zemo retreated. Zemo then brought his attention back to you. “I have picked out a dress for you to wear, Agent, to blend in,” he gestured toward the door of the jet’s toilet.

Unzipping the dress bag, you were surprised by the beautiful red material and its intricate details. Who would have thought Zeemo had such good taste? Without any hesitation, you shed your casual yet tactical wear and slid into the dress. You admired how it hugged your body perfectly. Rushing to see the final look, you adorned yourself with the accessories he had chosen as well.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you revealed your new identity to your team, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, Sam whistled appreciatively, and Zemo offered a polite nod of approval.

“Not a chance,” Bucky’s voice cut through the moment, his gaze bore into you as you walked out wearing the red dress, its neckline plunging and the hem barely covering anything below your waist, your back exposed.

Confusion flickered across your face as you turned to him, he was looking you up and down with only his eyes still seated. “Excuse me?”

His jaw tensed as he continued to assess your appearance, “You’re not wearing that,” he stated firmly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “And, since when did you get an opinion?” you shot back, defiance in your voice as you met his gaze.

The tension on the jet thickened as Bucky maintained his stance. Sam sensed the conflict brewing, he decided to step in and attempt to diffuse the situation.

“Okay, let’s just take a minute,” He interjected, his voice was calm yet authoritative. “We’ve got more important things to worry about-”

“I’m serious,” Bucky interrupted, insisting you wouldn’t be wearing the dress. “You’ll draw too much attention.”

“This dress will not compromise the mission,” you began, your voice steady. “I’ve been in the ‘arm candy’ role for Steve enough to know what I’m doing.” you noticed the shift in his demeanor as his body tensed at the thought of you and Steve being perceived as intimate.

Sam nodded in agreement with you, “She’s got a point, Bucky,” Sam interjected, affirming your statement. He had witnessed this act on a few occasions now to know you’re right. Bucky hesitated, torn between his protective and possessive instincts over you or respecting the supposed end of your so-called relationship. After a moment of silence, a begrudging “Fine.” cut through the tension.

---

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bubuslutty · 1 month

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40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc.

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?”

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.”

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..”

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?”

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.”

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice.

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!”

He was good. Really good.

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.”

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily.

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link.

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?”

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.”

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!”

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style.

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

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captain039 · 9 months

Text

PART 10 Playing with fire

Alpha!Kylo Ren x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, sexual, jealousy, slow burn, eventual smut, anger issues, swearing, emtional, drug usage, dark themes, anxiety attack

Previous part <-

His eyes watched yours and you licked your lips slightly making his eyes dart to them. Before he could do it say anything someone knocked.

“That was quick” you muttered going to the door. You saw the stormtrooper already running back to the elevator, it amused you slightly. You grabbed the food and turned back inside watching the supreme alpha sit down on the couch, long limbs stretched, he looked vulnerable.

“Food” you stated handing him the hot food. He frowned slightly and you just gave him a stern look. He ate without argument and you hummed in approvement before looking away. Maker the need to provide and make sure he was taken care of kicked in too quickly.

“You are fed, please get some sleep and a shower, supreme leader” you nodded going to the door. The door slid open before forcing shut quickly in your face. You frowned before turning to the supreme leader who had his hand.

“Why do you give into your role as a mate then leave?” He asked and you quickly looked at the floor.

“I don’t know what you mean, supreme leader” you said and he sighed placing the food down and standing.

“Kylo” he said and you frowned as he approached.

“Surely you’re not that stupid” he teased and you looked to glare at him.

“I know your name!” You huffed.

“Why don’t you use it?” He asked.

“Because you are the supreme leader I am-“ before you could finish he came into your personal space.

“My omega” he said voice low which made your whole body shudder.

“Have you not noticed the fleets change?” He asked.

“I am an omega that is the reason for change, I am not allowed here” you said quietly and he growled making you flinch slightly.

“You think anyone would demand an officer to take them to my room?” He added calmly, you knew. Knew the change that was inevitable, you didn’t want to face it though, it frightened you. He frowned at you as you took a step back.

“Apologies supreme leader, I will not act above my station again” you kept your eyes to the ground.

“I will take my leave” you mumbled going to the door only for it to be slid shut again. You tensed feeling a warm body behind you, a hand leaning against the door in front of you.

“Why are you frightened?” He asked breath fanning the back of your neck.

“You said you were not afraid of me” he added.

“I’m not” you mumbled closing your eyes and sighing.

“I’m scared of this” you added.

“Change” you finished.

“Change is inevitable” he stated.

“You took on change when leaving your home” he commented and you sighed, that was different, that was to provide for your family, you didn’t expect to find your mate, let alone be mated to the supreme leader.

“I cannot rule the galaxy with you” you scoffed slightly.

“I don’t expect you to” he said his words surprising you.

“What?” You turned to him, his face inches from yours.

“I don’t expect you to rule a galaxy” he said.

“You are supreme leader, the supreme leaders mate also becomes supreme leader and they will rule the galaxy!” You explained.

“I have ruled for eleven years” he began.

“You have not left the one home you knew till eight months ago” he added, he knew how long you’d been here?

“Three of those months you have only conversed briefly with me” his eyes held your gaze.

“As supreme leader I would teach my mate how to run a galaxy, it may take years, before I teach you however” your body heated up as his fingers brushed your cheek then cupped your cheek.

“I’d make you mine” he whispered before lips met yours. You moaned quietly, highly embarrassed by the noise as he deeply kissed you. His hand on your cheek moved slightly, thumb on your throat. You could feel the power radiating off of him, he held you in a place no room for escape, not that you wanted too. He pulled back and you were thankful, you panted trying to get your breath back. His hand still held your neck and Jaw, his eyes roaming your face. You finally caught your breath, still in a daze by the action, watching a pleased smile appear on his face. His thumb moved to your lips, pressing against the bottom one gently before he kissed you again. He backed you up against the door, hands going to hold your hips instead.

“I’d make you beg for me” he muttered against your lips and you whined.

“Scream for me” he added and your whole body felt like it was on fire. His lips moved down your jaw and took your neck, breath fanning the sensitive skin. You lifted your hand and bit the back of it as he sucked gently in different spots. You felt a hand grab your wrist and your hand was tugged from your mouth and pressed against the door, fingers lacing through your own.

“I’d indulge all your fantasy’s” he muttered against your lips.

“Because my duty as mate and alpha is to protect and provide” he finished leaning back, making you chase his lips.

Your daze was cut off by a ringing coming from his desk. The alpha growled and stormed off leaving you breathless against the door. He tapped a button and answered the call before hanging up angrily. He stood there for a moment fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You gained control over your body again and walked to him.

“If you have business I understand” you said and he flinched slightly.

“Once my omega is known, they will not interrupt my time with you or I will execute them” he growled and you felt a shiver run up my spine.

“Known” you muttered to yourself. Known as the omega of the supreme alpha Kylo Ren, supreme leaders mate. You’d have to attend meetings, councils, be there was supreme leaders mate so people knew. You knew how some higher alphas viewed their omega mates and other omegas as nothing but, tools. Things to be used when needed, providing an heir or continuing the line, to serve and obey like a slave. Your mind ran wild with thoughts and you got scared.

“I can’t” you whispered legs itching to run away.

“I won’t” you added watching the alpha frown as you moved.

“You’ll find someone else, not me I won’t-“ before you could finish your sentence you left the room, heart about to jump out your chest as you ran to the elevator.

You ran to your room locking yourself inside as you felt your mind explode and your chest tighten. Maker this hasn’t happened in years, the room felt too small, it was hard to breathe as you slid to the floor. You tried to make yourself small by curling up, you felt tears sting your eyes and your breathing was rough. You heard a knock but didn’t move or register it fully as you felt like the room was closing in. You saw your door open and a panicked Leo was by your side instantly. He was speaking, but his voice was so far away, like an echo. You tried to focus on his face, but it was fuzzy. You struggled for words and breath as he tugged you to his chest and began to hush you. The beta managed to calm you down, you were exhausted against his chest, tears staining his grey shirt. You let go of your legs that you were holding tightly and felt like your body just went numb and forced itself to relax.

“Hey?” The beta questioned and you just nodded and he sighed in relief.

“Stay as long as you need, just gonna move slightly” he said before shuffling a bit and sighing calmly again. You didn’t move from him and he didn’t move either, you thanked him silently.

Next part ->

#alpha kylo ren x reader #alpha kylo x reader #alpha kylo #supreme leader kylo #Starwars #x reader #aob

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galaxycunt · 5 months

Text

Singing The Same Dream

shuggy thoughts Thursday

1k lil fic hehe

He had a good buzz going, a hand floating to scare the barmaid, endless liquor flowing, good times. Buggy would be lying if he wasn’t a man who recollects when he’s drunk, and a bad feeling about this night made his fingers twitch with anxiety.

Behind him the door swung open, loud chattering of a group of men bounced off the walls. This was good, he needed a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder to watch the men pile in, pirates. Even better.

”Yo, more rum over here! Before these fucks drink it all!”

“Buggy?”

He turned, limbs nearly falling to pieces to the floor. It was him, he didn’t fucking need this right now. Swiveling in his stool, he whipped back to face the bar.

”It really is you!” a hand slapped him hard on the back, “you’re looking good.”

”Yeah, well, you look like shit.”

He only laughed, “getting older I guess.”

Red-haired Shanks. He looked the same, same stupid hat, same stupid smile on his face.

”What you’re drinking, old friend?”

Time to make lemonade, “top shelf only.”

Shanks shrugged, ordering a bottle to share. Buggy swiped it as soon as it hit the counter, chugging the bottle to the last drop.

”Thanks for the free drink, shithead,” he said getting up to leave.

“Whoa, wait a minute. I just got here,” Shanks said tugging on his sleeve, “please, stay a little bit.”

Buggy shrugged him off, “it’s been how long now? 15 years?”

He smiled, “something like that.”

He knew this was a bad idea, but those old memories flooded back to him. His smile, his eyes, his lips. Buggy’s heart won out over his brain.

”Alright. Talk.”

Shanks smiled a little nervously, like he used to, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

”Any good hauls lately?” Buggy said sarcastically.

“A little of this, a little of that,” he paused, “wait do you really wanna know?”

Buggy only glared.

So he told him, the treasure he found, a little village he liked to visit when he could, animated about everything the drunker he became. Shanks was living the dream life they wanted for themselves, he supposed he did too. Captains going their own way.

“God, Bug I remember what Roger used to say about you-“

”-don’t tell me that shit, man.”

”Why not?”

He frowned, “I don’t wanna hear this shit, bragging like a jackass.”

”Oh.”

Shank looked down at his drink, thinking of the right things to say. Buggy was reminded of the night they first kissed, how stupid it all was. Two lonely boys on a pirate ship with no one else their age in sight.

”It’s too loud in here, see ya shitface.”

Shanks followed Buggy out, “yeah you’re right. Fresh air would be nice!”

”I wanna be alone, moron!”

”But why?”

Buggy looked at the people passing by, how embarrassing. He was a fucking pirate captain, for god’s sake. So he walked toward the shore, not sure of where to go else with Shanks following him.

He was in love with the guy, so sure that Shanks was just bored and he was there. That was his life, being at the right place at the right time. He wasn’t made for love, getting what scraps anyone else wanted to give him.

The moon was beautiful and bright, dark waves crashed against white sand. Buggy kicked a rock at his feet, holding his breath for Shanks to say something.

”Why are you here, man?”

They locked eyes, “I didn’t mean to. But I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

”Is that right?”

”Yes,” he said quickly, “a welcome surprise.”

If he didn’t know better, Shanks looked flushed.

”Remember back in the day, that night on the island? I think the moon was just as big.”

Buggy closed his eyes, “yeah, I remember.”

”You…I think that night played in my mind for three weeks straight.”

”We were pretty young and dumb, huh?”

Shanks laughed, “yeah. We were, weren’t we? It was..nice, wasn’t it?”

It was before Roger died, Buggy braver than he ever been before, kissed his best friend. And he kissed him back. As large of a ship it was, it was hard to find the time to hide more kisses. Like two magnets, they always found each other’s lips.

Buggy used to worry that anytime they docked, Shanks would go off to find someone better looking to kiss. He never did, their first time together was in a cave they found on an island. The moon shone so bright, he looked like an angel.

Now they were drunk saps, the last remaining shred of dignity was screaming at Buggy to leave. Instead he sat in the cool sand, fingers tracing patterns.

”You’re a captain now, right?”

”Yeah.”

Shanks sat next to him, “I’m glad to hear it. I really am.”

Slowly his hand inched closer to him, fingers linking together. Buggy gulped, he couldn’t let this happen again. But why not? Why not?

”I’m sure there’s far more interesting men out there for you.”

Shanks shook his head, leaning closer. His breath smelled like liquor, this was a mistake. Buggy’s mind wrestled with a decision, a drunk kiss didn’t mean a thing. Even if it was 15 years overdue.

Shanks removed his hat, lips hovering over Buggy’s, “you were my best friend, you know?”

”I think I’m still in love with you,” he whispered.

Shanks exhaled deeply, a wide grin on his face. Buggy figured he was always going to be in love with him.

The kiss tasted bittersweet, Buggy’s other hand clutching the sand, letting it slip between his fingers as Shanks’s tongue slipped between his lips. It was bliss, just like every other time. He felt his heart in this throat, the wind knocked out of him.

”I gotta go.”

Buggy scrambled up as quickly as he could, tears burning hot. Shanks called out after him, words fading away.

He felt so stupid, he always so stupid. Rushing to his ship, he trembled as he locked the cabin door behind him.

They were drunk, of course they were. It wasn’t real, it never was. Shanks only got what he wanted, regardless of what Buggy felt about it.

Never again.

#buggy the clown #one piece #buggy x shanks #shanks #shuggy

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meetmyothersouls · 2 years

Note

💀 surprise me, but not THAT scary please. thank u 🥴💓

Happy first day of Halloween!

I’ve got you babe 🤗 I’m pulling some inspo from the movie Barbarian, and a few others that have a common theme that I’m intrigued by in what I consider “modern horror themes”

Also so sorry, this was supposed to post last night but I fell asleep before I got the chance to post it!

Wrong House

Warnings: slow burn, spooky, flirting, dark themes, adult themes, not proof read.

You pull up to the airbnb that you reserved for yourself a month ago. It’s dark out and also rainy, so you can’t really see the other houses around you and you silently curse yourself for not checking out the area beforehand. Oh well, it’s late and you want to go to bed and get out of these wet clothes that were already drenched from a few minutes of standing in the rain.

You know how these things work, having rented a few air bnbs in the past, however, you never usually do this alone, you’ve usually got a few of your friends or cousins flanking you, keeping you company and easing your anxieties which is exactly what you wish for as you reach in the box that should have contained the key to your rental.

“Fuck,” you say as you pull out your empty hand.

You walk back to your car, mind blank as you think on what to do. It’s too late to call anyone, so you start your car, having come to the conclusion that getting a motel for the night may be your only option.

But a light flipping on in what should be your air bnb grabs your attention. You should turn around, drive to one of the six motels you saw on the way here, but damn it that air bnb is yours! You booked it a month ago, and payed good money for it, so you get out. You march up to the front porch, the rain soaking you all over again, and pound on the door.

“Hello!?” You say as you as you knock against the wood. You hear footsteps thudding through the house, but they aren’t running away or hiding they’re heading toward you. You hear the fast click of the dead bolt unlocking the door followed by the clinking of what sounds like a chain lock.

“Hello?” A man says as he opens the door. He looks tired, like he’d been sleeping before your arrival.

“Uhm hi,” you smile. This is awkward. “Sorry, but I think you’re in the wrong house.”

He rubs one of his eyes and chuckles, but it’s not one of amusement. “What?”

“I rented this airbnb on Vrbo last month, see,” you say pulling out your phone showing him your verification email.

He furrows his brow, takes your phone from you. A long, skinny finger scrolls as the light from your screen illuminates his rather handsome face.

“Listen, I’m not sure what to tell you. I also rented this air bnb about a month ago on Home Away.” He turns motioning further back into the house. “I can grab my phone, show you the receipt.”

He turns around before you answer, but you stop him. “No it’s okay. I’ll go. I passed a few motels on the way over. I’ll call Vrbo in the morning.”

You sigh as you turn around. You kick the water in a puddle as you trudge back to your car. How the fuck can they make this kind of mistake? You’re already stressing over what you’ll say to them on the phone tomorrow when his voice causes you to turn back around.

“Hey, uh, I’m not sure if you’ll get a motel tonight.”

“Why not?” You raise your voice a little as the rain comes down harder.

“There’s some fuckin’ medical convention in town. Everything’s booked.” You run a hand through your hair, and a few fingers catch on some of the tangles. You turn your face up to the sky, it’s requiring a lot of effort to not scream into the night. “Look, the rains picking up. Why don’t you come in, you can call around to some motels, see if they have any vacancies and at least you’ll be out of the rain.”

“Thanks,” you say unlocking your car. “But I think I’ll just call around while I drive.”

“I don’t really like the idea of you driving around at night. Alone. Lots of creeps out here,” he responds quickly. “Come inside where it’s safe.”

You consider his words, and while half of you thinks joining a stranger inside of an air bnb is a terrible idea, the other half of you wants to change your wet clothes and be done with this night, so you grab your bag and walk inside.

——————

After an hour of phone calls, and no vacancies you give up with an exhausted whine. “You were right,” you sigh. “Not one vacancy.”

He’s holding back an I told you so, you can tell, but instead he says “why don’t you stay here. I mean we both paid for this place, there’s no real reason either of us should leave. Stay the night and we’ll call these idiots in the morning.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I don’t even know your name. And staying inside of an air bnb with a stranger doesn’t seem like the smartest idea. How do I know you’re not some creep?”

He holds out a hand, “my names Timothee. Not a creep.” He’s got a nice smile.

You smile back and shake his hand. He’s charming, too, but you’re still wary. This situation is weird and you don’t plan on letting your guard down anytime soon. “Timothee Not a Creep. I’m y/n.”

“So now we’re not strangers,” he says, still holding onto your hand. He lets it go and walks over the the kitchen.

“Technically we are still strangers.”

“Well what do you want to know. I’m an open book. Wine?” He holds up a bottle with a ribbon on it as he speaks from the kitchen.

“No thanks, I don’t drink.”

“Okay then water?”

You hesitate, not wanting to take a drink from him. “Sure.”

Timothee sits the water down on the coffee table in front of you. You stare at it, but don’t pick it up to drink it. Not yet, you think as you decide to feel this dude out. You inspect if from a far, not being too obvious. It looks like, well it looks like just water. But then again you’re not an expert on how spiked drinks look. Nothing is floating in it or swirling.

“It’s safe,” he says, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I didn’t put anything in it,” he chuckles and you can’t tell if he’s offended or genuinely amused.

“Oh no, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You can go get your own, I mean if you want to be sure, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

You decide to take a drink, feeling bad for assuming he’d drug you.

It’s silent. Awkwardly so, as you sit and he smiles at you. You crack one back, feeling stupid.

“You should take the bed,” he says, standing up after a too long period of silence.

“Oh no. No. Truly I’d rather sleep on the couch.”

“Why?” He asks, and it catches you off guard.

Because you took his Airbnb, because the couch is closer to the door for an easy escape if needed, because he’s kind of creepy and intriguing all at the same time. “I have a thing about sleeping on dirty sheets.”

Timothee disappears into the bedroom, returning moments later with arms full of bedding. You hear the washer open and the soft shuffle of blankets and sheets being loaded in. He starts the washer and reappears in the living room.

“Problem solved.” He smiles and it’s cute. “Though we’ll have to stay up until they’re done washing and drying.”

———————

It takes a collective hour for the bedding to completely wash and dry. In that hour you and Timothee talk and get to know each other. You find yourself able to loosen up. You tell Timothee things you’ve told few others and he listens.

He’s a great listener.

You even take a few sips of his wine. You don’t like it but you feel content. Happy.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say holding up your hands. “There’s no way you think I Know What You Did Last Summer is better than Scream. There’s now way!”

“Okay listen! Hear me out!” He stands up and walks around the coffee table to explain. “If you look at it from a filming standpoint you-”

The loud beep from the dryer sounds, interrupting Timothee’s speech.

“Guess that’s you’re sheets.”

“Yeah I guess so.” You check the time on your phone. 12:30am. “Fuck it’s late. We should get to bed anyway.”

“I’ll help you with your sheets,” he says. “Unless that’ll make them dirty again.”

He’s teasing you and you kind of like it. “I’d love your help, you jerk.”

Timothee disappears for a moment and reappears with an arm full of bedding. He jerks his head toward the hallway and you follow him into your new room.

It’s dark and smells faintly of old wood. Kind of like an antique shop. Timothee helps you with the fitted sheet and the pillow cases before heading toward the door.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n. I’m sorry they fucked up your reservation, but I’m kinda glad they did.”

He’s making you feel all fuzzy inside and half of you wants to ask him to stay in the room with you tonight, but you don’t do instead you say, “me, too.”

He smiles a big smile that’s extremely cute, but kind of shy and sad all at the same time.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Timothee.”

————————

You jolt awake and it’s still dark outside.

3:15am.

You’ve only been asleep for a few hours, but the dreams you were having were…strange and you can’t sleep now.

You turn on the lamp on the bedside table and for whatever reason you notice a wallet on the dresser in front of the bed. Curious, you get up and grab it, bringing it back to your bed. It’s old, worn out leathers. Soft after years of use. The corners are tattered and tiny pieces of blue fluff from Timothee’s jean pockets are stuck to it. This makes you smile. You open it up and his New York ID pokes out of the top of one of the pockets. You shouldn’t be going through his stuff, but the Airbnb shouldn’t have made the mistake that they did, and you shouldn’t have drank wine earlier. Lots of things that shouldn’t have happened happened. So you continue to pull it out. You smile immediately at his ID photo. His curly hair looks soft and it sticks out in a variety of directions. You silently curse yourself for not touching it a few hours ago. His smile is that big one he gave you before exiting the bedroom for the night. Goofy and slightly shy. You shake your head, unable to believe that you’re falling for someone you’ve only spent a few hours with and don’t even really know. You move to slide it back in but something catches your eye underneath his photo.

Chills pepper your skin as you read the dates on his drivers license.

DOB: December 27th, 1958.

Issue Date: December 27th, 1985.

What the fuck?

You look at your phone, checking the date incase you’re still fucking dreaming.

October 1st. 2022.

There’s no way this guy is 64 years old. There’s no fucking way. He looks exactly like he did in his ID photo from the 80s!

Immediately, you Google his name.

At first nothing comes up and you almost give up, but page two of Google reveals many articles with Timothee’s name in it.

You click one.

-Suspected Suicide of a young New York male by the name of Timothee proves to be more.

- Suicide or Murder? Young New York local found dead in quiet neighborhood.

-Who killed Timothee? Was it him or was it someone or something more sinister.

You throw your phone as you hear his voice.

“Y/n?”

He sounds far away, like he’s rooms away. But you’re in the only bedroom.

You don’t answer.

And it’s eerily quiet.

“Y/N HELP ME.”

This time it booms through your room and it sounds like it’s coming from under your bed.

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @gatoenlaciudad @patronsaintofthetwinks

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #dark!timothee #Halloween #happy Halloween #Halloween special

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hearthouses · 10 days

Note

you say, go fast (i say, hold on tight). 2-5, 15

you say, go fast (i say, hold on tight)

2) What scene did you first put down?

I write linearly for the most part, so I usually have to put down the first scene first, then later I can generally jump around. Or in other instances, I have to put down what I think will be the first scene but that can be subject to change later on if something fits better. For this fic I needed to adhere to a strict linear style, so the opening scene was the first scene put down and everything fell into place after.

3) What’s your favorite line of narration?

I’m very fond of this opening description, I love the imagery and I was really going off the vibes of the setting and the mood of the era:

He and Dean were alone on the long stretch of desert highway, no cars having passed for miles, their only company being the dust kicked up from the road by the impala’s tires and the shadows stretching into the vast emptiness off the highway shoulder. In front of them is sun-cracked pavement and a rocky horizon, city lights rebounding over the peaks and breaking off into speckled starlight, scattered across the deep midnight blue sky. The moon has waned into a thin sliver of a crescent, curved and sharp like a scythe, hacking into the atmosphere—a grim omen, one that settles heavy in Sam’s stomach, like a boulder. Sam looks away from the window and towards his brother behind the wheel. Dean’s profile is a series of angles and curves in the heavy cover of darkness, no street lamps to illuminate him in bursts as they drive past, just the steady outline of him that Sam had been taking in and memorizing, watching Dean when he wasn’t looking, taking snapshots in his mind and committing them to memory. This is what Dean looks like blanketed in desert night air. This is what Dean sounds like humming along to Johnny Cash on the local radio station, his thumbs tapping out the rhythm of the song on the steering wheel. This is what will be gone in a few dwindling months.

4) What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I hate writing dialogue, I try and keep my dialogue to a minimum, if possible because I don’t think I have the the skill for writing strong dialogue, so answer this is hard because there’s not a lot of dialogue to begin with, but I like this because it is cute and banter-y:

Dean never turned the headlights off, leaving them on to give Sam a good view as he strips—starting with his shirt, going button by button and taking his time as he reveals more inches of skin, walking towards Sam, before weaving around him when Sam tries to touch him, walking himself backwards. “Not yet,” Dean says, continuing down the row of buttons and untucking his shirt, letting it fall open when he gets to the end, giving a peepshow of his stomach and nipples every time he moves. "Stripper rules, really, Dean?" Sam says, voice dropping an octave as desire pools at the back of his throat, licking his lips as he follows Dean to the other side of the car, but doesn’t get too close, keeping his hands down. Dean's teeth glint as he smiles, shining in the moonlight. “Just play along,” he says, then starts to slip the shirt down, revealing one freckled shoulder first, then a bicep, then an elbow, each bit of skin revealed like a present, unwrapping himself with careful precision.

5) What part was hardest to write?

The perspective. Sam POV is difficult for me. I will easily lapse into Dean POV and it’ll flow, but Sam POV is like writing as a form of excavation, I have to figure out the layers of his emotions as I go along.

15) What did you learn from writing this fic?

That I can still sometimes throw caution to the wind and write down a random image that blossoms into a 10K fic without my hand-wringing and anxiety and obsessive planning and it is still good.

put one of my fic titles in my ask + questions about it

#buddyaldridge #replies!#wincest #sam x dean #samdean #fic asks meme

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pastanest · 1 year

Text

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

Cure Your Loneliness

Rain attacks your bedroom window, and a loud roar of thunder causes you to turn over and bury your head in your pillow. Lighning illuminates the room for a fraction of a second before you are plunged back into darkness, and you sigh. Even without the storm, you wouldnt be able to sleep, there’s too much on your mind. Well, that isnt strictly true. There’s one person on your mind, but he encapsulates your mind so completely that it’s impossible for you to sleep now. Shaking your head, you reach over to your bedside table and start smacking your hand against the wooden surface until you find the phone. Turning it on, the light from the screen blinds you. After blinking rapidly, your eyes adjust, and you realise the time. You consider your options as you bite your lip. Is 3am an acceptable time to text him? But before you can even consider turning your phone off again, you’ve sent a text. Nobody has a decent amount of self control at 3am, and especially not someone as hopelessly in love as you are.

You: hey

Anxiety consumes you, and you immediately regret your decision. However, much to your surprise, your phone hums pleasantly a few seconds later.

Spence: Hey, is the storm keeping you awake?

Smiling down at your phone, you sense the same kind and caring tone that Spencer gives you in every conversation you have with him.

You: I guess you could say that, yeah

Spence: 2-3% of the U.S population suffer from astraphobia, the fear of storms.

Spence: Wait, you “guess”? What else is keeping you up?

Your hands cover your face and you sigh into them, here goes nothing.

You: Im honestly suffering from extreme loneliness more than anything else. yeah, I hate storms, but what I hate more is needing someone to makeout with for half a century, and not having anyone willing to take me up on that offer

Spence: Are you at the point in your monthly cycle in which you’re experiencing fluctuations in arousal?

You: hahaha, no Spence! I just want to makeout with someone

Spence: For half a century? That’s a considerably long time.

You: maybe even a whole century, I wouldnt complain about that

Spence: Do you have someone in mind you would like to cure your loneliness with?

You: yeah, he has no idea, and even if he did, I dont think it would change anything

Spence: Why not? What guy wouldn’t want to makeout with you?

Spence: That came across far more flirtatious than I intended! What I meant was, any guy would be lucky to makeout with you for five minutes, let alone half a century.

You: if only you intentionally flirted with me

Spence: ...What?

Spence: Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but are you insinuating that I am the guy you want to spend half a century making out with?

You: yup, and as I said, it wont make a difference

Spence: Why wouldn’t it? I recall saying any guy would be lucky to makeout with you, and “any” includes me.

Staring at you screen in shock, you feel your heart skip a beat, and your stomach flip. He cant be serious, can he?

You: wait. you’re kidding.

Spence: I am absolutely not kidding!

You: so...would you be down to come over and makeout for half a century?

Spence: I’d be honoured. When would you like to see me?

You: depends how fast you can get here

Spence: I’ll be there as fast as humanly possible ;)

For a few moments, you sit up in your bed blinking rapidly into the darkness as the reality of your situation sinks in. Doctor Spencer Reid is on his way over. To makeout with you. At 3am. Oh my God.

Without wasting anymore time, you kick your bedcovers off of your body and turn your bedroom lights on, before you begin scrambling around your house. Darting into the bathroom, you splash your face with water and brush your teeth. Skidding back into your bedroom, you brush your hair and look over your pyjamas. The storm outside is little more than afterthought as you check your reflection in the mirror, wondering whether this set of pyjamas will do. Smiling fondly, you remember when you looked over your reflection in the BAU after wearing a new suit to work. Spencer just happened to walk behind you, he caught sight of you, stopped in his tracks and said “You shouldnt critique yourself, you’re beautiful.”

A knock at your front door pulls you from your flashback, and your eyes almost fall out of your skull as your body freezes on the spot. You’re frozen in shock for a few moments, until you recover control of your body and practically fly down your stairs and hitting the front door at full force. Unlocking the door, you tug it open, to be greeted by the sight of none other than Doctor Spencer Reid. Some of his hair sticks to his face because of the rain, and his clothes are damp from the same cause. You notice that he’s pulled some suit pants on, but left a soft silk button-up pyjama shirt on his top half.

“Was that dramatic thud the sound of you hitting your door because you ran down the stairs so fast?” Spencer chuckles.

You smile sheepishly “You betcha!”

Spencer reflects your own smile back at you. “Someone certainly seems eager.”

Overcome with a sudden shyness, you cast your eyes down. “You betcha, again...”

Spencer takes a step forward and lifts your chin with his finger. “Me too, beautiful.”

Your stomach does somersalts at his softspoken words, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin as Spencer places a hand at the small of your back.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer whispers, leaning close to your ear.

You nod frantically. “Never been more sure in my life.”

Spencer laughs darkly, turning you around and closing your front door in order to gently push you up against it and shut the storm outside. He licks his lips, his breath fanning your nose as he leans down. His lips ghost yours, just for a second, it’s enough to send your eyes fluttering closed. Spencer notices the affect he has on you, and he feels pride swelling in his chest as he pulls your body flush against his, his lips falling back onto yours in a kiss that is so soft and sweet. You can taste mint in his mouth, he must have brushed his teeth before this just like you did. Your hands shake at Spencer’s shoulders, too overwhelmed with the feeling of his lips on yours to fully concentrate on what to do with the rest of your body. Picking up on your nerves, Spencer uses his free hand to move your hands to the back of his neck. He pulls his lips from yours for a second.

“It’s alright, I’ve wanted this for a long time too. Just relax, there’s no rush.” Spencer whispers gently, placing a kiss on your nose before his lips fall back onto yours.

His soft and subtle dominance leaves you utterly breathless, you never suspected this side of Spencer even existed. Somehow, kissing you makes him less nervous and awkward than every other interaction he has experienced. His lips are soft, his touch so gentle but firm at the same time. A crash of thunder from the storm outside causes up to jump even closer to Spencer, which you didnt think was possible. He chuckles as he pulls away and tucks your head into his neck, rubbing slow circles in your back.

“Thunder cant hurt you, nothing can for that matter, not while Im here.” Spencer coos, and you melt into his embrace.

“Do you...Do you want to take this upstairs?” You suggest shyly.

“I’d love to, (Y/N).”

A warm wave of familiarity rushes over you as you remember the events of the night before. Waking up in the arms of Spencer Reid is something you’re never going to forget. You shouldnt be thinking about this now, in the middle of a restaurant, having dinner with the entire team, but you cant help it. Trying not to be too obvious, you retrieve your phone from your back pocket.

You: hey, Im no psychic but Im pretty sure I can predict that Im gonna be lonely again tonight

Spencer frowns as he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and he’s quick to turn it on beneath the table to read your text. He cant help himself from laughing quietly, using his hand to cover his mouth in an effort to hide it from the team who are all laughing around you. A soft smile overtakes his features as he hits send, and that smile only widens when he lifts his gaze to you.

Spence: I’ll be sure to correct that prediction. Be sure to save some room for dessert.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #crimianl minds #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

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If This Is Our Destiny 2

Past! Angel x F reader ** | Future? Manny x F reader **

⚠️Warnings: flashback to the night of the attack, some anxiety, Angel Reyes 🙄

** woc/black/bipoc f readers to the front bbs. Anyone can read tho. You can image her as an OC ‘Princesa’ as well if that’s your preference 😁 many options to choose from.

An: I’ve never really been into the idea of someone calling me ‘mama’ or ‘ma’ but only one man can now (jeez thanks Rio)

Fic info || previous || next

Gif credit to the owners 💕

- Flashback, 2 months prior -

You close your eyes and take a slow deep breath. After a few seconds, you return to lighting the candles. Looking across the way, you notice all the guys are around the pool table, taking stock of ammo and guns.

Bishop eyes the supply. “You gonna burn through these boxes in 30 seconds.”

Turning around, your eyes scan the bottles on the shelves, you have an idea. Grabbing two from the shelf, you turn back and place them on the counter. “How about fire with fire?”

Angel, Ez and Bish all turn back and look at you. Bish nods, “yeah.”

- Flashback over -

“Hey ma, you good?” You come back to the present moment and find Manny leaning over the counter, those deep brown eyes observing you. His voice washes over you like a smooth drink. “You wiped that glass down three times, where’d you go?”

“Oh, sorry. “

You put the glass and towel down. After a quick scan of the room, you confirm you and Manny are alone. He’s still leaning over the counter, eyes fixed on you.

Dropping your voice to a whisper, you move closer to him, “Since the attack, sometimes I have these moments. Bits and pieces of it come back. I think I’m still processing it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Shit,” you rub your forehead, “is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” Manny shakes his head, “the first time you live through some shit like that, it’s hard to shake. Be easy with yourself.”

You smile, “thanks Manny.”

“You know I got you,” He stands upright and straightens out his shirt and kutte, “it's late Princesa. How you gettin’ home?”

You’ve developed a habit of getting lost in his eyes. It was too easy to become distracted by Manny: his voice, the way he held himself, those eyes, his long dark eyelashes, his lips, his cheekbones, his jawline, even the little silver stud in his left nostril…Manny was a work of art.

It’s not until you see a smile dance on his lips that you realize how long you’ve been staring. Pulling yourself together, you reach under the bar and grab your bag and jacket. "My car is still in the shop, so I’ll call a cab.”

You slip your jacket on then scan the bar once. It was clean enough. You thought the Santo Padre guys were messy, but the Yuma chapter took messy to a new level; it was like clearing up after a bunch of frat boys. Rude, handsy, disrespectful frat boys at that.

You thankfully had less incidents than the other women, thanks to a mix of kicking one in the balls and Angel and Ez coming to your defense. They nearly beat those guys to death, the post drama aside, most of the Yuma dudes backed off after that.

The only other incident happened a week and a half ago. You were bending over to pick something up off the floor and felt a greedy hand grab at you. Manny walked in just as it happened and ripped the asshole away from you. Chapter brother or not, he made it clear, you weren’t to be touched.

You flash Manny a smile, “I’m so glad you’re not like the others, seriously. I’ll be right back.”

You make a quick stop at the crappy excuse of a bathroom. After washing and drying your hands, you order a car and head toward the front door. You hear some hushed voices in Templo as you pass, it’s Bishop and Hank.

This is the third late night Manny walked you out. It was sweet, and as long as Angel wasn't around, you'd let him do it as much as he pleases. As you both descend the stairs, Manny makes an offer, “You know what, forget the cab. I’ll drop you off.”

“Yeah?” You ask with a smirk.

The idea of riding on Manny's bike while you hold him has crossed your mind many times. You were never bold enough to ask though…then there was Angel…he’d freak the fuck out if he ever saw that. The times you caught him watching you and Manny, it was like a blood vessel was going to burst any second.

“That is way better than a cab, I’ll take you up on it.”

Manny’s eyes light up at the sight of your smile. After a second or two, Manny sits on the bike and starts it up. He hands you the helmet, “come on ma.”

Riding on the back of Manny’s bike is exactly how you imagined. He feels good. This feels good. It’s like you were meant to be here. Hold him tight, head resting comfortably against his shoulder as you ride. You want this to last forever.

Somewhere near the halfway point of reaching your place, that ghost you can’t shake pops into your mind and suddenly you remember how it felt with Angel. You blink the thought away almost as fast as it comes. Not tonight. You wouldn’t let Angel Reyes haunt you tonight.

When you arrive at your apartment, Manny parks the bike and walks you to your door. You fiddle with your keys, knowing what you want to ask, but not sure if you should ask it. You lower your gaze, trying to figure out just how bold you were feeling.

Manny leans against the wall, “About that night,” you look up, fixing your eyes on his, “I didn’t know you were in there. Shit, “he shakes his head and stares past you, “I think about it you know. You could have been hurt…or worse.”

You grab his forearm. “Hey, we didn’t know each other Manny. I don’t blame you for that. It was inner club shit and I happened to be inside while it went down.” You give his arm a light squeeze. “How was I supposed to know we’d meet.”

The guilt in his eyes is quickly replaced by something else, something lighter, more relaxed. The moment that smile returns to his lips, your heart beats faster. In his normal chill demeanor, Manny relaxes further against the wall, “Yeah, you're right.”

“I am.” You reply and squeeze his arm once more before letting him go.

Manny watches you lift your hand, then his eyes float back up to yours. Feeling a surge of confidence, you soon say the words that have been lingering on your lips. Sure, you spend a lot of time thinking about the consequences of this, but you want this, you want Manny. And all his flirting, sexy smiles, lingering glances, the way he gently touches your arm and shoulder; it all tells you he feels the same.

“Um, so - “you pause, breathing into it, “would you like to come in?”

You wait for a yes, it doesn't come.

The night suddenly feels too quiet. Like it’s taunting you for being so forward and reckless. You notice the tension in his brows, he’s thinking something, but not saying it.

“Sorry, never mind. Thank you for the ride though.” You turn to your door quickly and put the key in. When you hear the click, you push it open and rush inside.

“Wait, hold up, “Manny follows you inside and closes the door gently behind him.

Still not looking back at him, you hang your keys on the hook and flip on the lights.

“Manny, really, it’s fine. Just forget it happened.” You talk with your hands, walking toward the kitchen to get away from him. You hope he’ll turn and leave, then you can sit with your embarrassment alone.

“Nah, hold up,” Manny catches up and gently grabs your hand. You don’t pull away, instead you turn to face him, “I’m feelin' you, Ma,” Manny holds your hand tighter, his eyes soft on yours, “but, you and Angel, that's gotta be done. For real.”

“We are.” You stare up at him, feeling confused. “We’ve been done for months.”

Manny doesn’t say anything. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he wants to believe you, he really does, but doesn’t. The sweet free feeling of being on his bike is now gone. The air in your apartment suddenly feels thin.

“Did,” you take your hand away, “did he say anything to you?”

Manny gently lifts your chin with his fingers, your eyes meet his, “he may have a different idea of being done Princesa.”

“Fuck,” you break eye contact. Manny gently caresses your cheek, then takes his hand away.

You cross your arms and pace, anger building in your body, imagining all the shit Angel could have said in your mind. Angel Reyes imploded things; he blew shit up. He had a real talent for it. Sadly, this isn't the first time you heard something like this.

Manny stands behind you and rests his hand on your left shoulder, “I’m going to head out. Unless you want me to sit with you for a while?”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh and face him, “go home. It’s really late.”

You couldn’t be mad at him; Manny was looking out for himself and didn’t want to get involved in anything messy. You and Angel were the definition of messy and you’ve been trying your hardest to change that.

“You gonna be alright?” Manny asks, drawing you into a hug. You relax against him, taking in his scent and the way he feels.

You close your eyes. “I’ll survive.”

The hug lingers for a while longer. You don’t want to let go, Manny doesn’t either. When the hug finally breaks you miss it already. You walk him to the door and wait until he rides off to go back inside.

It takes 23 minutes. 23 minutes and 11 seconds before you give in and send a text. You were fuming by this time and what comes out of you is a brick wall of a text; a purge of sharp words and every curse you could think of. It feels good, it feels really fucking good. Until you read it over. Then, you feel defeated.

Even after leaving his ass for the 2nd time almost 4 months ago, he still had a hold on you. Enough of a hold to make you a rage filled teary-eyed mess as you texted him. It was supposed to be easier four months out, right?

Though you hated him right now, you did care about him, loved him, loved his family. Angel was maybe the most damaged person you know, and you had to remind yourself, love or not, history or not, it wasn’t your job to fix him or soothe his wounds. You delete the very honest, very scathing text and write something else.

{You: We need to talk. Free tomorrow?}

Three dots appear instantly, it makes you wonder if he felt you texting him. You two had a weird ass connection like that. The three dots linger a while, with his new name in your phone, ‘do not text’

{Angel: is this your stubborn ass way of asking me to come over?}

You roll your eyes and almost smile, almost.

{You: No. I mean talk, literally.}

Three dots appear, then vanish.

{You: Tomorrow, I’ll stop by. Around 8? Just please wait for your groupie sex fest until after I leave. I don’t need to see that shit.}

{Angel: It could be me and you, querida, like old times.}

You write something, delete it, then pause. He doesn’t write either. You put your phone down beside you on the bed and rub your face with your hands. Your phone buzzes.

[Angel: fuck this texting shit, I’m coming over.}

“Oh my god,” panicking, you quickly type telling him not to come. Then you dial his number and call. He doesn’t pick up. Knowing Angel, he was likely on his bike, speeding over here right now.

Your suspicion is right, a knock arrives at your door only 21 minutes later. You don’t want to open the door, but you know him, he’s obnoxious and will knock until you do.

When you open the door, the first thing you notice is how tired he is. He leans against the doorframe and stares down at you. It’s near impossible to look away, the tall strong figure you knew so well, that beard you love, those tattoos: he’s even wearing the backward cap and sleeveless t-shirt combo you loved. Asshole, he did this on purpose.

Angel’s hungry gaze moves over your form, then lingers on your bare legs. “You put that one on for me?” He asks with a smirk.

You glance down and realize what shirt you��re wearing. It was a simple, oversized band tee. The shorts you have on underneath are hidden by the length. When you changed your clothes, you just pulled one out without looking. It was Angel's favorite too.

“It’s for me,” you grip the handle tighter, “I told you not to come over.”

Angel shrugs, “ phone died.”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s lying and try to close the door. Angel blocks it, steps inside, then closes it behind him. He smells like beer, cigarettes and leather.

“Angel -”

“I knew you missed me, I could tell by the way you look at me from the bar, all heart eyes and shit.”

“You’re delusional. And an asshole.”

You head toward him with the intention of opening the front door. As you pass him, Angel grabs your arm and slips his free hand behind your head. Before you can protest, Angel leans in and crashes his lips against yours.

With wide eyes you watch him kiss you. You can feel your body reacting, despite telling it not too. You always loved the way it feels, being pressed beneath him.

Your hands are flat against his chest now, for a brief moment you slide them down, feeling his muscles. Your eyes start to close, you almost give in - almost.

You push him away with a shove and step back, putting distance between your bodies. Your heart is pounding now, you take a moment to catch your breath. Angel’s kisses, just like the rest of him, were sinfully seductive and addictive. One taste has the power to regress all the work you’ve done.

You don't want that. You want better. You need better.

Angel responds as expected to the rejection. He steps back, doing that thing he does with his head when he’s pissed. “Yo what the fuck?!”

“We don’t kiss!” You bark at him. “Angel, we are not a couple, we’re not lovers…we’re not even friends right now. You can’t pull shit like that!” You take another step back and cross your arms, shielding your body from him.

Angel sucks his teeth and brushes you off.

“That’s really fucking rude, you know that right?”

“Shit, like you care. "Angel hissed venomously. He paces at the other end of the hall. “You fucking broke up with me, remember?” Angel walks away and heads into your kitchen.

I can’t fucking believe this guy. Cursing under your breath, you follow him inside and find him opening your fridge, his back toward you.

“You fucking confusing you know that?”

You can barely believe what you’re hearing. “ME? How the fuck am I confusing, Angel? I’ve stayed away from you for months! I don’t text you, even when you text me. We only see each other at the clubhouse. I ignored your late-night drunk calls. How the fuck am I confusing?”

With fast angry steps, you storm toward the fridge and slam it shut before he can grab anything. The act of aggression surprises him, he takes a step back and stares at you.

Your body is almost shaking with anger now. The tense expression on his face melts to something else, amusement. He chuckles and leans into the nearby counter.

“You cute when you’re all pissed off and shit.”

“Oh my god.” you take a deep breath and rest your hands on your hips, “everything's a joke, isn’t it?”

“Not everything.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles. When you don’t, he leans over and smiles wider, “come on, where is it?”

He’s not going to ease it out of you, even though he almost does. You keep control of your expression. The bastard was charming. And this has worked in the past. But you don’t want to get stuck there, you want to move toward the future. A future that might have Manny as part of it. You step around to the other side of the counter and rest your hands on the surface, trying to sort your thoughts.

“Querida,” Angel walks over to you and grabs your shoulder.

“Don’t call me that.” You lift his hand and move a few steps away.

Angel stays where he is and lowers his head, “You know what I was doin' when you texted?”

You raise a brow, “Fucking your problems away?”

Angel chuckles, “naw. I was layin' on the couch, watching that shitty Novela. The one you used to watch with me. I had me thinkin' about you and shit…. about us…about tryin' again.” The vulnerability in his eyes almost melts your heart. But you stay strong. “How's that shit go…third times a charm or whatever? Don’t you wanna see if that's true?”

The weight of this words plus spending all day on your feet hits you all at once. You go to the table and sink into the chair closest to the window. Angel doesn’t say anything, he alternates between staring down at his feet and you.

You take a breath, exhale, then speak, “If we ever find our way to each other again, Angel, it will be as friends. Just friends. Remember that? I miss that version of us. Everything was so easy. So uncomplicated.”

Angel rubs the back of his neck, eyes cast down. You know if he could, he would light a cigarette right now. But he seems respectful of your no-smoking rule. Eventually, he mutters, “I fuckin miss you. This shits got me all fucked up. You think this is easy?” He glances over at you from under his brows.

“For you? Easier. You just drink, smoke and fuck to bury it.”

He scoffs, “It’s not even like that, not all the time. You don’t see all the times I go home alone or fucking drive out to the middle of nowhere just to clear my head. The shit never works by the way.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Angel.”

“I gotta see you every week, without being with you. Don’t get me started on those Yuma motherfuckers. Flirting with you and shit, like I’m not even there. Especially that skinny fuck with the stupid neck tattoo…his ass properly making friendship bracelets with Ez right now.” He shakes his head.

You suppress a laugh and store away the ‘i miss you’ you can't handle that right now. “You jealous? Ez can have friends you know.”

Angel pulls out the chair across from you and sits with a dramatic sigh. You stare at each other in silence.

You speak first, “I wish you didn’t come over. I had a long ass day and this -" you pause and rub the bridge of your nose, “let’s just do this then.” You open your eyes, “I hope one day we can be friends again; I would like that. But I could never be your girl again, ever. We tried and each time it failed. I don't want to be that person who keeps going back to a fucked situation.”

He’s quiet, eerily quiet. His brown eyes are heavy with pain, anger, and something you can’t name.

“I’ve been hearing you telling people we’re together or hinting at it. You can’t do that. I’m not property. I’m not yours. I was going to ask what you’re telling people but honestly, I’m way too tired Angel. I can’t even - “

He abruptly pushes back in the chair and stands. Cursing under his breath, he glares down at you. “I fucking knew it. Who is he?”

Your eyes locked on his, you lean over the table, “my personal life is no longer any of your business, Angel. You are not allowed to ask that.”

When you don’t back down, he kicks the chair. You rise to your feet.

“No! That is not happening here, you are not breaking my furniture. Go, leave!” You point to direction of the door.

He’s got the look of a wild animal now, chest heaving. He takes a step back, then another. Angel turns and leaves the apartment; you hear the door close behind him followed by his bike roaring up the street.

…

The next morning

Tired isn’t enough to describe how you feel right now. Your eyes float over to the closed door of Templo, they’ve been in there for a while now. Manny arrived at the early end, though he said good morning and greeted you with his usual smile he felt distant.

Angel barreled in on the border of being late, he walked in without acknowledging you, which was fine, you didn’t want to look at him either. You try to keep yourself busy and focus on getting through the day.

When the meeting ends, the door slides open, and members start to refill the room. Some make their way to the bar, and you start putting a few beers on the counter. Your eyes follow the Reyes brothers as they walk out and through the front door, followed by Manny.

The new hire, whose name you refuse to remember, also Angel’s newest poor coping habit, rushes through the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My alarm - “

Narrowing your eyes at her, you step back as she walks behind the bar. “I’m taking a break.” You say and leave her.

Stepping outside, you linger off to the side and watch as a black van pulls up before Ez, Angel and Manny. A man gets out with a middle-aged white guy with a ton of luggage. The scene before you becomes even more bizarre when you notice a kid. When the door opens again, you duck back inside and head to the bar.

When Manny, Ez and Angel don’t return, a knot forms in your stomach. It’s likely Alvarez sent them on a job. Everything was already tense and though your mind doesn’t want to go there, you feel yourself thinking the worst. What if your name came up? What if Manny and Angel had a confrontation?

Working on autopilot, you hand off a few more drinks and hope for the best.

Tags? Ask below

Taglist so far: @obsessedasusual @mrsmontanalol @okimreadynow @po3ticb3auty @minordeffects @rosey1981 @bugngiz @bport76 @90sisthenew80s @kaykaysuh

#Angel Reyes #manny Mayans #Mayans Mc #mayans fic #manny x reader #angel reyes x f reader #fic: if this is our destiny #black reader #woc reader

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billscheft · 9 days

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Annie Corrigan, who was my nurse when I had my two hip surgeries and stayed the most cherished of friends, went to Heaven Sunday. I wrote this nomination for her as Daily News Nurse of the Year in mid-July, 2008, while I was home recovering from the first replacement. This is better than any breathless, overwrought remembrance I can cough up. I know she'd be embarrassed that I am reprinting it here, but what's the worst that could happen? She'll get pissed off and come back and yell at me? I would friggin love that....

Eleven days ago, I entered the Hospital for Special Surgery to undergo a hip replacement. Two months before, a friend had recommended I hire a private nurse to help speed along my recovery and get me moving during those first crucial post-operative days. “You need to hire Ann Corrigan,” she said. “ Call now and pray she’s available.”

I did and she was.

You will undoubtedly read entries from those who endured more dire procedures or suffered much much longer. The details of my situation are just details. Hip replacement surgery is common. The resulting pain is common. The issues and milestones to overcome or reach are common. But the care I received during the five days I was with Ann Corrigan is the essence of uncommon.

All of the epithets others will ascribe to their caregivers; attentive, thoughtful, tireless, energetic, encouraging, committed, tender, tough, selfless, compassionate – all the words that will trod across these nominations – they all apply to Ann Corrigan, and to whatever degree comes after the Nth.

But I seriously doubt if there’s a nurse alive who possesses Ann Corrigan’s greatest gift and most healing quality. Humor. Who else would introduce herself over the phone as Nurse Ratchet? Light and dark. Silly and deep. The type of humor that cuts through a patient’s anxieties more swift and sure than any scalpel.

Here was my second phone conversation with her, a week before surgery, when I was crazy with fear about whether she’d forgotten about me.

Me: “So, you’ll take me from the recovery room to my room?”

Ann: “I’ll take you, put you in a bag and throw you in the East River….”

When I stopped laughing, my wife Adrianne, a wonderful caregiver in her own right, said, “She is perfect for you.”

Who could disagree? Who would want to disagree?

When Adrianne and I finally met Ann, she wasted maybe 20 seconds for introductions before pivoting and chasing down a hospital administrator to find out who my anesthesiologist was. Off she went, ever-purposeful. To demand an answer from a doctor, a nurse, a staffer. The family lounge, the pre-op room, the recovery room, my river-view semi-private, the nurses station, the back elevator, the street level pick-up for my trip home. She never stopped, updating me every step, until the steps were my own. My twinkly advocate. Off she’d go, and I would let myself smile and think, “Everything is okay. All is well.”

If that sounds trite, you don’t know me. And I have not explained the indelible care of Ann Corrigan. I’ll try again.

You can have the best doctors, the friendliest staff, the sunniest room. But to lie in a hospital bed following surgery, any surgery, is to lie alone with the prison break that is the mind’s most desperate thoughts. Something has to be wrong. I’m not doing as well as they tell me. They’ll kick me out of here and I’ll have no place to go…And, as only the mind can do, it will tell you these thoughts make sense. But I was never allowed to hold those notions too long. I would look up, and there would be Annie, big smile, getting ready to hold a pillow over my face, and dramatically end it all.

And I would laugh. Prison break over.

A month ago, in the space of two hours, my father passed away and Adrianne lost her mother. In the middle of my stay in the hospital, my wife showed up for a visit and handed Annie an aqua Tiffany box. I figured she had gone out and bought something nice in appreciation. But when she closed Ann’s hands around the box and said, “You cannot give this back to me,” I knew it was not just some appreciative bauble. My wife had given her a delicate gold and pearl pendant that had belonged to her mother. The next morning, Ann came in and told me she had stared at the pendant before she went to bed and decided “I will wear that when they bury me.”

I know, I know. We have gone far beyond “nursing.” The best definition of success I ever heard was “service plus faith “ If you believe this, as I do, Ann Corrigan is the most successful person you or I will ever know. She is not from this earth. But this Earth has her now, and she must be acknowledged. Thank you for the opportunity.

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lunarmoonanons · 2 years

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Chapter 18: Found Again

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

“Daniel!”

Where was he?! He was right here! YN barely turned away for two minutes!

The girl began to hyperventilate as she clutched the cat in her arms. Grabbing the bags, she turned in a quick circle, looking for his familiar white hair. Why did she turn away? She should’ve paid more attention! Yn began to bolt around the center, looking for her brother. To hell with being discreet, she had to find him. Luli groaned and meowed in YN’s arms, responding to her increasing anxiety.

~~~

Thirty minutes passed and she still couldn’t find him. This place was supposed to be a small shopping center damnit! YN couldn’t stop the tears going down her golden brown cheeks. Her mind frantic as she kept looking, not paying attention to what or who was in front of her.

“Daniel! Where are you-” YN was cut off as she bumped into someone. Luli voiced her discomfort of being squished between two bodies. Looking up she saw some dark haired homeless looking man. He had long hair and eye bags to rival hers.

“S.. sorry.”

“Are you okay?” The man asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. Making her freeze up as he bore his eyes into her, like he could sense her trauma or something.

“I’m fine, just let me go.” YN tried shrugging off his hand.

“No. Now tell me what's wrong.” And like that, the floodgates broke and YN began to cry again. Shaking as she broke down into the man’s arms. YN couldn’t be the strong one anymore. Right now all she could be was scared.

“It’s… It’s my brother… He walked away.. Away from me. And now I can’t find him… He’s not able to control his emotions well. He could get hurt! I was supposed to watch him! I’m supposed to take care of him! I’m supposed to… I’m so stupid! I can’t do the one thing I promised to do! I’m so stupid! So stupid!” YN sobbed harder into the man’s chest. Now that she’s started, she couldn’t stop. Hyperventilating, shaking, holding the cat in her arms tighter.

“Okay, get it out now. I know it’s scary but you need to calm down.” He sounded kind. Maybe a little harsh with him saying to calm down immediately, but he was right. Patting and rubbing at her back, he helped YN slowly calm down. As she hiccupped her last sobs, he stood back to assess YN’s state.

“Where did you see him last?”

“By the fountain. I turned away for a minute to pet Luli here. And then he was gone. I went around this whole place and checked the alleys too. I don’t know where else he could be.” The man nodded and grabbed her duffel bag.

“Let’s go check the fountain again. He might've just gone back there for you.” YN nodded as she walked beside the tall man. Luli purred in her arms, sending comfort to the girl.

When they made it back to the fountain, YN rushed ahead. Relieved to see her brother sitting by the fountain. Head down as he kicked his feet up. Daniel stood as he saw his sister running toward him. She crashed into his arms as he hugged her. As soon as she went into his arms she jumped right back out.

“I told you to stay by me! When I said we could go shopping I did not say just walk away! You could’ve been hurt! Or kidnapped! What if they found you?! Why did you walk away!” YN shouted, unable to control her frustration and fear. She knew that he couldn’t handle her being mad at him, but she couldn’t stop herself. Hating herself even more as she saw him pick up a small bag and held it to her.

“Happy birthday…”Daniel whispered. The bag held a old romance novel and a murder mystery movie. A pair of shoes were there as well, replacements for the flip flops on her feet.

YN gasped as she looked at the bag. Having forgotten her birthday entirely. She felt like a bitch for yelling, losing her temper and scaring her brother. Such a bitch for treating him like a baby who couldn’t go shopping alone. YN hugged her brother apologizing. Promising to never yell at him again, that she was sorry and that she was entirely in the wrong. Daniel grabbed the cat in her arms and nodded at his sister. Almost forgetting about her outburst as he kissed the cat’s head.

Aizawa stood a bit away as he watched the tearful reunion. He expected the brother to be younger, not older. Aizawa looked at the two teens and wondered why they were out here all alone. The bag on his arm was heavy, like for a trip. Something was wrong here. These kids needed to get help.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Aizawa sees two traumatized teens and thinks “Adoption?..”

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #bnha aizawa #yandere midoriya clan #yandere bnha #yandere deku x oc #yandere deku x reader #yandere mha #mha #bnha #bnha oc

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masterjedilenawrites · 11 months

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Thank you!

And yesss i love the idea of a jedi trained under THE Mace Windu yet they cant be taken seriously due to how inexperience they are on the bettle field

Like maybe dispite them being inexperience the clones love them because they truly care for the clones and are very loyal to them they have a heart of a jedi but not that of a general maybe this Jedi knows something isn't right about this war and always gets this sick feeling in their stomach when they are around Anakin but they can't figure out why maybe they try to go for a diplomatic route in most situations but that backfires

I just love the idea of this Jedi just not beinh cutout for war that is not what they signed up for

I want to know about the medic Clone! Pleas tell me more

And yes! That's where my other OC comes in clone CT-9420 otherwise known as Bull lead commander and right hand of Broco of unit 604 Bull is a hardass and takes no bullcrap hence the name he believes there shouldn't be no short cuts to doing things the mission must always be accomplished his color is dark pink along with his unit I like to imagine him and Cody get along great and are actually quite close he cares for Rex but they do bicker about how to run their squad Bull just thinks the 501s need more discipline. So they won't act on impulse and so they won't die that is always Bull's main goal none of his brothers dying Bull is also close with the wolfpack and Fox although he worrys for Fox sanity

Yes Broco survives Order 66 Anakin may have turned to the dark side because of Broco I imagine Padme does call quits with Anakin and confesses to Broco her feelings and Broco for the first time in his life acts impulsively and accepts to being with her during that time Broco trys to tell Anakin but he is to angry and hurt about Padme it isn't until ROTS when picking a new Jedi master they call both Anakin and Broco they of course pick Broco but he declines the offer making everyone shocked Broco reveals he broke the jedi code and fell in love and has been in a relationship with Padme (cue Obi-wan shocked AF face) and that he resigned from being a Jedi he then leaves not unil being confronted by Anakin who is hurt and Pissed Broco tells Anakin that him and Padme never did anything while she was with him it was only until she broke up with Anakin then they started there Relatonship and that he has been trying to tell Anakin for a while Broco soon also reveals that Padme is pregnant with Anakin's kids and that they don't have to hate each other they could work things out to come with him and Padme they could all three talk that there is a solution of course Anakin doesn't listen he is too angry to hurt too heartbroken this is the moment he snaps

In my version Padme stays alive along with Broco and they escape with Obi-wan Broco trys to take Bull with him but Bull is too far gone so him and Padme change their names and raise Luke and Leia in secret afraid Anakin will find them

Well I’m sold! I like this new Jedi you’re helping me create lol. So he trained under Windu, everyone had high expectations for him but because he’s not cut out for war, he feels like he’s failing them. His clones love him, but he can’t quite connect with his fellow Jedi generals, let alone the Senate and any other leaders. He struggles with acid reflux because of his anxiety, which only grows the longer the war goes on…. I’ll just need to think of a good name for him now 🥰

I’ll put the rest under the cut since this post ended up rather long lol.

And then my clone battalion (that this Jedi will lead) is the 116th, with Commander Crowe. He’s the clone in my profile pic lol. He’s a pretty chill guy, lets the squad do whatever they’d like, enjoys kicking his feet up with a beer and some cards, etc. But on the battlefield, he’s hardcore. Best on the defense, can hold the line like nobody’s business, never lets a droid get through. Also competitive and keeps a kill count, which he’s scolded for by other units but doesn’t care.

They picked up a civilian at one point, Dr Joan Vo. Crowe took her under his wing (pun intended) and taught her a lot, and in return she took care of all their medical needs. She became a sister to them.

Sadly… the battalion’s ship does blow up during the height of the war, killing everyone except Joan, who was away at the time. I wrote a little about that part of their story in this chapter of The Sniper and the Medic. I think my new Jedi would have to be on the ship too, unless I want him to somehow survive and maybe find Joan and help her through her survivor’s guilt? I’m not too sure.

Sorry that was a lot to dump! Lol. There’s just a lot to say about these characters 😁

Bull sounds awesome, I love him already. I can totally see him butting heads with a lot of the other clones who aren’t as rigid/strict as him, even my clone Crowe. But perhaps there’s still room for friendships in there, especially if Bull’s main motivation is for all his brothers to live, I don’t think even a reckless clone could argue with that. It’s sad that he ends up swept into carrying out Order 66. Any hope he could snap out of it and leave the Empire, like Cody? Lol

Ahh okay interesting, Broco chooses Padme. What do Luke and Leia think of him? Do they know he’s not really their dad? Does he and Padme end up with any kids of their own?

Also random question, what color’s his lightsaber? I’ll have to think about mine as well hehe

#star wars #not the same anon 💚#the clone wars #OCs #others ocs #Jedi #clones #Commander Crowe #oc joan vo

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day0walkersdrafts · 1 year

Text

“Fucking finally,” Benny says, sitting on the windowsill, one leg dangling out. He watches the mustang pull out the driveway—Lark’s hand is dangling through the window, flipping up into the breeze occasionally in old habit. Xavier’s forgotten to turn the headlights on again, because he always does. For a moment, he has a spike of anxiety of the two with his car (especially Xavier driving, Massachusetts piece of shit), but then he’s reminded that—

“You’re gonna fall out the window.”

His head swings back into the room, away from the headlights softly winking on as Xavier finally remembers them. Maran lays on his bed, forearms folded under his chin. The blanket is a mess, half off and pooling on the floor. His pillows are kicked to the side—and he’s slightly embarrassed by the piling clothes in the corner and the beer bottles on the desk, as well as various things in stages of taken apart to be put back together in ways that make them explode apart. But he quickly forgets to feel anything really, except a nuzzling warmth under his belly button when Maran’s freckled face splits into a smile.

Benny slips his way off the windowsill, lithe and more graceful than one might except. He approaches, a hand outstretched that comes up to cup under Maran’s chin. He tilts the younger mans face up a little; God, he’s fucking pretty. Almost too good to be true looking pretty. Defined, angular, pouty lips that Benny stares at too long for. Olive skin toned with those dark array of freckles. They’re not like Xavier’s that are all over, everywhere. He has them in nice little clusters. Planetary like, right? Systems of them. Benny’s thumb brushes over his plush lower lip as he continues staring down at him.

Alone, for the first time, in a long fucking time, because this hunters house always seems too populated.

“What ar-are you so fucking cute for, Maran?” Benny asks, with a curling lip of a smile. Hard to think straight, standing over him like this. His hand, cupping that warm face and directing it up. He hadn’t moved, just accepted the palm under his chin. He lays there, feet swinging a little—boyish, sweet. Who me? I’m just a guy, that gesture says. And Benny believes it sometimes. That Maran has no fucking idea the effect he can have. Because he snorts and tilts his head.

“M’just layin’ here.”

“In my bed.”

“Who else’s bed am I meant to be in?” Benny holds Maran’s chin in his fingertips, his eyes lidding, his posture tightening a little as he tilts his head. Yeah. Sometimes he has a clue. Sometimes, too much of a fucking clue. His grin goes a little wider, because he has to know the answer to that.

“Roll over,” Benny comments, using his other hand to gesture a little circle. He can see a small shiver run down Maran—who he thinks, sometimes, like’s being told what to do. And it’s good, because just looking like that, saying something like that makes Benny feel like telling him what to do. He watches Maran shift so he’s more on the bed, turn onto his back and fold his hands on his stomach. He’s grinning, upside down at him. Inviting, again.

Benny takes his time walking around the side of the bed so he can join him, takes his time climbing up onto it and then very quickly stops taking his time—swiftly straddles Maran’s hips, hands taking his wrists and pinning them up on the bed beside his head. His knees wedge tightly on either side of him, sinking heavy and almost careless, a quick nestle to get himself comfortable. He watches beautiful pink flush crawl up Maran’s face—the dark freckles a stark and handsome contrast.

“You’re a right tease sometimes, Ben,” Maran mumbles shyly which makes him laugh. It’s the soft laugh he’s started to reclaim and find again, when he’d thought it would be gone forever. Just a huff of air as he leans down lower and lets their chests slide together.

“Well, then kiss me again, Maran.”

And when he rises up to try, lips parted, Benny backs away. Keeps the other hunters wrists pinned easy to the bed as he does. His grin gets bigger, dimpling his cheek as his eyes narrow. Pale blue on Maran’s deeply beautiful brown. He feels hips buck up against him, jostle him a little, because there’s a lot of strength in this gorgeous body underneath him. Enough he could probably wrangle himself out of Benny’s grip if he really tried—but he doesn’t.

He tries again, bumps himself up as Benny gets just an inch out of his reach. And right as Maran’s about to open his mouth to argue over it, dark browns pinched in, face set in that cute little pout, Benny dives forward instead. He captures Maran up in a kiss, one that pushes all the air out of him. He feels it wash across his face when they part—just to kiss again. His hands uncurl and slide up Maran’s forearms, find his palms and gently push his finger across them until their lacing together. He moves so he’s more laying on him, one leg sliding to hook underneath Maran’s—tug them close.

They kiss like that, chest to chest and Benny holding Maran’s hands down. His hips griding forward, pushing all the warmth into their bodies together. They kiss until their both panting and then he finally lets Maran’s hands go—and they spring forward with their release. One dives into Benny’s shaggy blond hair, making him open mouth moan against Maran’s lips. The other pulls down his back, fingernails dragging.

It makes Benny’s hand wander to Maran’s throat, hold it softly, thumb pressing up against the pulse hammering wildly just underneath the skin.

He pulls away just enough so they can look at each other. Maran’s pupils are blown out wide, all that brown becoming just inky black—glossy and glazed and—

“Man, you are fucking tasty,” Benny says in a dark and hoarse voice, biting softly into Maran’s lower lip and making him laugh. His body jerks a bit in response, a little thrust up against Benny that makes him shudder. Something in the back of his head reminds him to slow down a little. He rushes things—hard not to. Falls headfirst into these encounters, usually with a single purpose. Not with Maran, though—and not because he knows this is the first time Maran’s ever been with another man.

It’s not really about that. He’d explain it that way to Xavier or Lark if they ever caught on—fucking oblivious assholes. But, it’s not being someone’s first—Jesus. It’s just being someone’s.

Benny cups Maran’s cheeks and kisses him repeatedly, eliciting another laugh, another hiccuping sound from the other man, a leg kick and a jerk to get away from him.

“When I get—get you in my mouth for the first time,” he says, against Maran’s eyebrow, “you’ll have to fucking pry me o-off you.”

“We—uh, hah—We could do that.”

“It’s really fun making you wait,” Benny sneers, pulling back. He feels Maran’s hands sliding over his stomach, up underneath his shirt. He leans back a little—lets him touch, explore, feel. Let’s him lift the shirt—laugh at the shitty pistol tattoo on his hip. Let’s his fingertip brush over a vein in his hip and move further down. He watches Maran’s fingers touch his zipper.

Then they both jump up in surprise at the sound of the mustangs horn.

“Are y-you fu-fucking kidding me?” Benny seethes. He hears the horn blare again. Another quick taps following in an awful rapid succession that is supposed to sound like a jingle of some sort. “I’ll kill Xavier.” He feels Maran’s warm hands sliding further up and then running down, making his whole body shiver. “Ho-Hold that thought.” He slips off the bed, trying to adjust his jeans to not chafe so fucking bad.

The window was still open, cool air pouring in. He shoves himself out of it, throwing his arms open wide.

“Wh-What the fuck do you ass-assholes want?”

Lark stands there underneath the open window, his hands slid into his big jacket pockets. Xavier still sits at the drivers seat, looking too tempted to lay on the horn again. Benny can see that huge toothed grin even in the darkness, even this far away. It kind of kills his boner a little bit; but Maran’s laughing behind him, in his bed and the lingering warmth of his body clung.

“We forgot the passcode for the radio bluetooth.”

“W-Why didn’t you f-fucking text me?”

“We did. Eleven times.”

Benny glances back over his shoulder. He has to skate eyes away from how Maran has wormed his way back on the bed—has rolled onto his stomach again, but isn’t facing him this time. Faces toward the wall, looking at his own phone, scrolling something idly. Benny absolutely doesn’t stare at him—actually makes an effort to glance to his shitty out of touch phone on the desk.

“Xavier can’t drive without music—”

“Xavier can suc-suck my dick!”

“When and where, Ben?” Xavier yells back, leaning out the car window. He makes a lewd gesture, fist to his mouth. Benny thinks idly about the explosives on his desk before he surrenders. Returns to his phone and replies to the more than eleven text messages. He wonders if they’ll ever figure out the code is his birthday before he tosses the phone across the room. Let’s it land on the ground in the pile of clothes—refuses to check it, no matter who makes noise outside.

Benny returns to the bed, a little hop as he gets onto it and uses his knee to part Maran’s legs. He gets himself nestled there, laying down and wrapping arms up under his stomach. He rests his chin to Maran’s shoulder, feels the way his chest is rising and falling as he breathes—then watches the cell phone get tilted his way instead of lips turning to greet him.

“Okay, co-cool video—I love dumb ca-cats as much as the next person—more kissing?”

#benny #maran #benny x maran #vampire au

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melvee-vocal-coaching · 1 year

Text

GEAR- A Poem

Spinning wildly here, attached to this machine that spews out its results

I can’t remember the last time I was content not moving

Can’t remember the last time I didn’t need to hear the sound of metal clanging

Or didn’t need to smell the smog that it produced

Day in and day out, no matter how many orders I’ve helped fill

Or how much surplus stock overflows this store room

I’ve never felt like it’s enough

I’ve never felt like what I’ve produced is at its best

More to be done, more space to clutter

I run myself to the point of rust, to wear, to strain

And when I finally do take a second to pause and glance

All I see are spaces that need to plugged

Bare spots on the floor that need to be covered

Room for a box more here, a pallet there

Even when the boss comes in waving their arms

Proclaiming that I’ve done enough, there is enough

I never believe them.

Even when the room is finally stacked to the brim

And there is no work to be done, no space for that work to be placed

Any fulfillment I feel is short lived compared to the unbearable darkness when the warehouse lights go out

And those mountains of boxes seemingly vanish in the shadows.

I feel exposed, agoraphobia creeping in

Left alone with nothing but my thoughts, terrifying thoughts that overshadow the tangible darkness

And I question my value, pondering what I am and what I can do if not move, work, grind.

Every moment in this state is agony

Every moment in this state is numbness

Every moment in this state is emptiness

Every moment in this state is restlessness

How long do I sit here? Is it mere minutes? Hours? Days?

I have an itch, one that cannot be soothed.

I want to move, need to move.

The silence is deafening.

And then the lights suddenly flicker back to life

The boxes are gone, the store room empty

Except for an endless list of orders I need to fulfill

And suddenly it’s just too much, too overwhelming

And now the boss is yelling, screaming at me to get back at it

But I can’t move. I’m paralyzed.

Anxiety floods my senses, guilt wracks my conscience.

The list growing longer by the second

But here I sit, frozen.

Knowing the minute I start up again, I won’t be able to stop

Not for nourishment.

Not for my sanity.

So I sit here and wait for the inevitable kick of panic that will set me in motion again.

#poetry #workaholic #writing #metaphor #machine #poets on tumblr

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elizapreg · 1 year

Text

Tale of Alora- Chapter 11- Mother to Be

After a somewhat uneventful day of sitting around while Ben was out, Alora turned to Nelia. “I guess it's getting to be evening now… I should probably get ready for this class or whatever Mrs. Johnstock insisted I go to…”

After heaving herself out of her seat, Alora waddled over to the mirror, tying her long hair into a ponytail. Nelia chimed in, looking over the top of the elf to the mirror as well “I mean, at least you get to get out of this dumb room. Maybe look at the positives, we could both use a bit of tutoring when it comes to this.” The demon jested, placing a hand on her belly.

Alora shook her head. “I’ve managed just fine for almost double as much time as humans spend pregnant.” She looked at herself with pride, “Plus I’ve spent that whole time dealing with being full size and having contractions. I wouldn’t be surprised if I could teach this lady a thing or two.” She walked away from the mirror leaving Nelia looking at herself.

“Well I guess I don’t share in your confidence.” Nelia said softly, her eyes locked on the reflection. “One of these days, we are going to find a way to fix this, and when that day comes, I worry we’re in for quite the reckoning.”

Alora raises an eyebrow as she packs a backpack with paper and ink, “What do you mean? Once we fix this, everything will finally get back to normal.” She stated nonchalantly.

Nelia turned to the elf, “I don’t think becoming a mother is what I would call ‘getting back to normal.’ I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a kid, and seeing as I’m a fugitive in my world and yours, I guess I think it's fair to be a little worried. I might not have a normal to go back to.”

Alora kept her back to Nelia, looking down in the dark cavity of the bag, a tense feeling in her chest. She exhaled, turning to her companion with a smile as she threw the bag over her shoulder. shrugging. “Oh I wouldn’t worry so much. By the time this is solved, I’m sure you’ll feel different.” She explained, quickly moving for the door.

Nelia, watched Alora hurry out, “I guess you're right… Enjoy your-”

The door quickly swings shut, leaving Nelia alone in the room. “-class… Hmph!” She turned, annoyed, and played with the turtle on the table.

Alora stood on the other side of the door, her mind racing as she felt her child kicking as if in response to her anxiety. She placed a hand on her belly, shook her head and took a deep breath before heading down toward the exit, only for Beth to poke her head out from behind the desk.

“Hey! If it isn’t my favorite pregnant elf girl” Beth teased. “You off to meet with Mrs. Mayor? I doubt she’d let you decline her invitation.” Alora laughed. “Yeah. Seems like you know how she can be. Any advice?”

Beth chuckled. “My only advice would be to play along. I’m sure her heart is in the right place. She sees herself as a mother to everyone here- she’s got to be involved in everything. She even tried to have classes on proper bed making just to ‘help’ me.” She leaned back in her chair. “Tell Aluma hi for me though. I get most of my produce from her. She’s a big sweetheart.”

“I’ll be sure to give her your regards.” Alora replied as she walked out the door before Beth could explain further..

As she walked down toward Johnstock manor, she couldn’t keep her mind from going back to what Nelia had mentioned. “I’ve been so focused on getting you out… I guess I haven’t put too much thought into the fact you’ll be out. I forgot what those fantasies feel like.”

“Oh hey there Alora!” came a firm female voice, snapping her from her thoughts. Looking across the road, she saw Aluma, clad in her overalls, the sole attached strap pulled taut to help the overalls stretch over her belly, riding in on her horse-drawn cart.

As she pulled up alongside the small elf, she gestured up, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride!” Aluma said, reaching down to lift Alora into the seat next to her, her mighty hand wrapping around Alora’s arm with finger length to spare.

“Thanks, you’re a savior for my feet.” Alora joked, Aluma responding with her jovial laugh. “Oh trust me, I’m plenty familiar with how much of a pain pregnancy makes travel.” The giantess replied, placing a hand on her massive bump as she chuckled. “You ready for this class?”

“Ready as I can be I guess.” Alora said, blushing a bit. “I guess I’m not too sure what I’ll actually learn. I mean, experience has been a great teacher of the last fif-” She stopped herself, trying to remember how far she claimed to be. “Fif-few… Months. At this point, I’m just waiting for labor!”

Aluma looked down at her own bump. “Yeah, Mrs. Johnstock usually just sort of…explains things. Sometimes I think she just says what she read in a book…but a lot of the stuff she was saying I actually felt, so it’s gotta be a pretty good book. ” She smiled. “There was one week where she said I’d start growing hair on my toes- and gosh darn if I didn’t have that going on three days later! Of course, with the bump in the way, I guess I hadn’t seen them in a while. Did that happen with you?”

Alora instinctively looked toward her feet. “No, can’t say it has…” she said, though she soon wondered if maybe Nelia had experienced that.

Aluma shrugged. “Well, just one of the joys of pregnancy I guess!”

Alora looked over the tall woman once more. “What’s it like…being a half-giantess and having a baby?”

“Hm? There’s no other kind of pregnant for me to be!” Aluma said. “Actually, that’s where Mrs. Johnstock’s classes are really interesting- I get to see what humans go through! It’s pretty neat, but there really isn’t that much different. Oh- I have noticed that the baby seems to be more…giant-y than elf-y, if you couldn’t tell.”

Aluma seemed to puff out her belly some, and Alora suddenly remembered that the bump was supposedly created by an elf.

“Oh right, the father’s an elf, right?” Alora asked.

“Yeah! But you know, I’m kinda glad that the baby’s got my size…I would have looked so strange if there was big ol me with an elf-sized belly, huh?”

Alora’s ears dipped as she looked down the the belly that looked too big for her. “I could stand for this baby to not be so…Ben-sized. You’d think he was half-giant by looking at me!”

“Haha,” Aluma laughed, “I guess seeing you two together is almost like seeing me and Tip! But Ben seems like a good, strong man and a dedicated husband. That baby’s going to come out lively, I bet! Hey maybe our kids can be friends!”

Once again, Alora felt that strange pang in her chest as her mind was forced to imagine the child in her belly out…and playing with another child. She didn’t even notice that that they’d pulled up to Johnstock manor.

“Here we are,” Aluma said, stretching her arms before looking down at her belly. “The last few times I’ve been here, I’ve wondered if it’ll be my last class like this…but nope, still growing. Of course, Mrs. Johnstock will likely have me join the child-rearing class once I pop.” Aluma rolled her eyes and climbed down off the wagon, the lack of her weight making the thing rise up higher than previously. Once down, Aluma waddled around, patting her horses on the head on her way to Alora’s side of the cart. She offered a hand to help Alora down the comparatively larger drop. “But hey, the sacrifices we make for our kids, right?”

Alora looked down nervously, “Y-yep… That’s why I got pregnant, to raise a kid…..”

As the two girls walked up to the door to the manor, Aluma went to knock, only for the door to swing open and Jandyce to be standing there arms wide. “Ah yes! Welcome you two! Come, come, we have much to discuss!”

Following Mrs. Johnstock down the hall, Aluma mentioned “It's crazy to think It’s been almost 9 months since you started teaching me, ma’am.”

“Ah yes. I remember when I first heard you were expecting! I was so excited to help you along your way. And now here we are, ready to welcome your child into the world any day!” Jandyce turned towards Alora. “And to think we will have another child joining us soon after! Oh, the childrearing class will have some good company!”

Alora blushed a bit, looking down at her swollen abdomen “Y-yep! Soon enough, I’ll be …having a baby.”

Jandyce laughed, “Ah yes. And then the real hard part begins. But you and your husband must be so excited to be parents! You’ve probably been eagerly awaiting this for a long time like Aluma.”

Aluma rubbed her bump, smiling at Alora. “It’s our blessing to get to carry new life within us, isn’t it Alora?”

Alora stood there quietly, thinking to herself. ‘What am I going to do when you’re born? I’m not ready to be a mom. Would I have even wanted to be a mom if this hadn’t happened? Even though you’re in there, and you kick all the time…I can’t imagine…you. I can’t imagine you- someone- anyone calling me ‘mom.’ Am I really fit to be your mom? I didn’t ask for this..do I even deserve ‘life’s blessing?’”

“Alora?” came Jandyce’s voice, snapping Alora from her thoughts. “Alora are you alright? You’re not in distress are you?”

“Oh.. umm, it's just… the baby was kicking, sometimes I get a bit distracted by it is all..” Lied the elf.

“How adorable! You seem to be very in tune with your unborn child.” Aluma chirped, sitting down as they arrived in the manor’s study, “half the time mine has to kick extra-hard before I even know what’s going on!”

“Well, seeing as you two are so far along, I figured it would be best for us to discuss a bit about the actual process of birth.” The older woman pulled out a few books and drawings of pregnant women, which moved into basically a lecture on the workings of contractions and labor.

As she tried to listen, Alora felt the all to familiar feeling of one of her own contractions starting up, “Damnit! Not now! You’re gonna blow our secret you dumb kid” She thought to herself, doing her best to hide her discomfort as her belly tensed up under her gown. Reaching over, she grabbed the backpack of writing supplies she had brought, placing the bag on her lap to hide her contracting bump as she pulled out some paper to take notes. As she attempted to write, the discomfort kept her letters from being remotely legible.

Aluma looked over at what Alora was writing and laughed a bit. “Wow, that elven writing sure is complex! I can’t even begin to understand what you’re writing.” Alora forced a grin, and acted as if she was paying close attention to the lesson, barely able to focus on the words with how much effort sitting still is taking. After what felt like an hour of tensing and cramping, Alora finally felt the muscles calming, as she exhaled and put her focus back on Mrs. Johnstock. “At around this point, the baby will be crowning, and this is where things get dangerous. If you haven't paced yourself well up to this point, you can easily become exhausted. And that combined with the blood loss and strain of everything before, could easily lead to the death of you, or your child.” Alora felt the color drain from her face, “D-death? What do you mean Death? I thought the worst thing that could happen during childbirth was the pain?”

Jandyce shook her head. “In humans, this is a known risk, and one all future mothers must bear. From what I understand, you elves don’t reproduce much anymore. When was the last time one of your kind had a child in your city?”

Alora looked down, a bit stunned. “Well, that would have been me. I was probably the only new birth of the past 200 years or so. They never talked about this there at all.”

“I assumed as much. Your people’s magic and medicine probably make childbirth much safer then it is for us out here, but seeing as they aren’t one to share, and you didn’t know the danger, I assume your birth will be done our way, with its included risk. That being said, we have no way of knowing if elven childbirth is any different. I assume there are some sort of complications that bar your kind from having children as much as we do, and might go to explain a bit of why female elves seem so fewer in number. Perhaps you should confer with the elven males that reside here in Delyrim, unless you plan to travel back to your home for the birth?”

Alora felt the anxiety building up in her. Throughout her pregnancy, she had thought so long about getting the whole thing to end that she never thought about how it might happen. After all, she hadn’t made the child in the traditional way, so why should it come out in the traditional way? She hadn’t considered that even after all of this, she still might not be able to safely have her child- that maybe the act of ending this pregnancy would be in itself an ordeal. After everything she’d been through, after this long, back-straining journey, she might actually die during childbirth? What if the baby never did make it out? Her mind, maybe as a small piece of fantastical comfort, had always imagined the birth of the baby as Ben casting a spell…and then…whatever came next. Alora stood up. She started moving to leave the room. This wasn’t for her. This wasn’t happening to her. It couldn’t be. “I’m sorry Mrs. Mayor, but I-I should go talk to Ben about this. I’m not sure he’s aware of it either.”

“Are you sure, dear? I can teach you more about the whole process. I’ve helped a lot of women achieve good outcomes! Just knowing what’s going to happen could help you and the baby!” Jandyce called out to Alora., but the elf’s feet were still moving, Alora actively shutting the woman out.

Aluma stood, “If you can excuse me, Ma’am, I’ll go see if she’s okay. She probably just got real nervous since she hasn’t been learning about this like I have.”

“Perhaps I did frighten her. Try and bring her back. Oh the poor dear,” Jandyce shook her head. Aluma nodded and started after the elf, her long strides helping her close the distance quickly.

Once she left the room, Alora felt her breathing get shallow, her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. She could barely focus on what Aluma was saying, once she even realized Aluma was talking to her. “Come on Alora, let's get you into my cart, you look faint,” the giantess said, putting a big, comforting hand to Alora’s back. As they rode, Aluma tried to talk Alora down a bit.

“Don’t worry, I know how you’re feeling. Some mornings I look down and see how far along I am. I spend plenty of time thinking I won’t be able to do this. But then I feel my baby kick as if to tell me it's all ok, that she trusts me. I’ve learned to trust my body can do what it's meant to and that my baby and I will be alright in the end. Don’t let yourself worry. I can tell you are strong. I’m sure that the kid in there will be lucky to have you as a mom.”

Alora forced a smile. She could tell Aluma’s heart was in a good place, and obviously the giant woman was truly speaking from a place of kindness, but all Alora could think about was the feeling of guilt increasing by the moment. Her head filled with thoughts of “This is all my fault, if I hadn’t run away, Ben would never have cast that spell on me, and this child wouldn’t be doomed to live with an unprepared mother, assuming they even get to live at all…” And on top of that, some part of Alora felt the weight of deceiving these people- the first people who were trying to help her. She wanted to tell Aluma everything- just blurt out everything that was on her mind for the first time since she’d fallen pregnant, having maybe found someone kind who might understand. Yet, she struggled even finding the first word to say. As they approached the in, Alora quickly climbed down from the cart before Aluma could even help her, thanking Aluma for the ride, before quickly rushing inside, as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. As she entered the room, Nelia was asleep on the bed snoozing aloud. Alora rushed into the other room, locking the door behind her, and leaning against the door as the tears began to flow. She couldn’t stop them now. All this time she’d been putting these thoughts out of her mind, and in one short evening, they’d all finally found their way into the front of her mind. Looking across the room, she could see her reflection in one of the mirrors. Placing her hands on her bump, she slowly slid down the wall before sitting on the floor, curling up to cry as quietly as she could, but all she wanted in this moment was to be able to wail out everything she’d felt over the past fifteen months-everything she’d covered up with her search for answers. She cringed when she heard a door open- it must have been Benres coming home. As she heard him and Nelia begin to converse, the former asking where she was, and the latter having no idea she was even home, she wiped the tears away and composed herself, looking at her bump in the mirror, she whispered to herself “Well… I know how to keep you safe. Keep you in there… I can handle the contractions, and I can accept staying like this. It's the only way I can be sure nothing happens to you… I promise. I’ll keep you safe. And when the time comes…I’ll…I’ll try my best.” Standing proud, she heard Ben calling for her. “Hey Alora! Are you in here? Come look what I picked up. You’ll love it.” Putting on a smile, and smoothing out her clothes, Alora opened the door to greet her companions. Ben pulled out a shiny red apple from behind his back. “Apparently this comes from the South Kingdom, and it took some work to get, but from what I hear, these are the best there are.”

He handed her the plump red fruit, and Alora smiled. “Oh I’ll be the judge of that!” She said taking a bite before her pink eyes went wide “Oh damn!” The sweetness of the fruit was strong, but not overbearing, it all had a level of crispness she had only dreamed of.

Standing with the apple in her mouth, she just walked over and hugged Ben. “Thank you, I think I really needed that.”

Ben laughed, surprised at her rare show of thanks, hugging her back, feeling their child kicking inside of the belly pressing into him as they embraced. “Seems like the little one likes it too.”

“Y-yeah. Guess they do…”

#pregocs #taleofalora

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

Electric Love, Chapter 21, The End

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of minor character death, mentions of being locked up against their will, manipulation, Nomad! Steve

“Very good my darling,” Melina smiled, tracking the pig through the maze. She frowned when the tablet went off, letting her know that someone was on her land. Her eyes went wide, and she started towards her rifle, “Get inside.”

The pigs scurried off towards the house, alerting the two young women inside. Hannah looked at Ellie, “what’s going on?”

“Mom’s got it covered, Hannah…we’re safe,” She noticed the woman who was a little older than her start to glow, “Hannah…”

The woman looked beyond nervous, “I-I should go.”

But Ellie took her hand, “You can’t leave…”

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Melina smiled, kicking the door open, “make yourself at home!”

“Nat!” The older woman smiled at Hannah, and she rushed her, wrapping her arms around her waist, “I-tell me that Steve found Bucky…tell me Steve is okay…”

“We’ll talk later.”

Hannah felt her anxiety rise, “Nat….is Steve okay?”

“He’s on the run, Han…”

She took a shuddering breath in, “he-he’s gone?”

“He’s in the wind…but he told me to give you this.”

Her breath caught in her throat as Nat handed her an envelope. She was quick to disappear into the spare room, the envelope in her hand. She had hardly realized that she was staring as long as she had until she noticed that it was dark outside.

Slowly, she opened it, and was hit with his naturally calming scent. Slightly musky, but crisp and fresh. She wondered how long that it had been since he penned it.

“Oh Steve…” she sighed to herself, stroking the paper. Looking at the letter, she felt like she could practically hear his voice as she read it.

“Hannah…your dad told me why you ran…promptly before he tried to kill me. I guess we both have a lot of explaining to do when we see one another again. Hopefully we find one another before our child is born…hopefully, you want to keep our child. After Dot, I never thought anyone else would ever be the potential mother of my child…I put it out of my mind, telling myself that it was just one of those things I’d never be able to have. But you were always the dame to break that mold…always the one that was sweet on me, telling me that I deserved it. Telling me that I deserved to have love, and a family, just like everyone else did. And I’m beyond grateful for that…we all need family. And while you have your father…you and the baby are mine. We’ve talked about it before, and we agreed when we started to date, that you saw me as part of your family…your future. I wasn’t joking when I said that you were mine. You know I’d been alone since I was 18. Since my mom passed. Aside from having Dot and Buck, I never really fit in anywhere. Not even in the army. But despite that, I put my faith in everyone and anyone. And for the most part, it hasn’t led me astray. That’s how you and I came to be. I trusted you. I still do.”

She sniffled, wiping away the tears from her face as she looked away from his letter. She knew that she had to run, and she had fought every instinct to stay with Steve. But she couldn’t let the baby suffer for her choices, “It’s why I believe that you are right. I haven’t signed the accords. Instead, I started following in your path. I found Bucky. Together we found the bunker in Siberia. It’s where your dad almost killed me…I went on the run. I needed to make sure I could get to the raft. The rest of them are locked up. Nat told me that you are safe. And for that, I have to trust you, yet again. I have to trust that we’ll find one another. Have to put my faith in the fact that one day I’ll see you again…and our child…that I’ll get to be with you, lay with you, kiss you. It’s the little things that we too often take advantage of, that makes us forget what we really need in our life. And I need you, Hannah…even if you won’t come to my physically, I pray every night that when I fall asleep I will see you. I pray that it isn’t just a fantasy that my mind made up to satiate itself…I pray that I get to feel you again. Please come back to me…I miss you bunny. Take care of our little super soldier. Until I see you again, Love Steve.”

Hannah bawled, until she felt the static in the air change. She recognized it quickly. It was the same kind of technology from the hela-carriers. With worry in her heart, she opened a portal as lights surrounded the house. She opened it to the safehouse that she and Steve had set up when they first started to date. She sighed to herself knowing that the two of them had joked about it one day being their endgame; their home where they would raise their children.

She was quiet in the way she padded through the hall of the lonely Brooklyn brownstone. Her fingers grazed the photographs that the two of them had accumulated, and she paused on one from Christmas. Her and Steve were wearing matching ‘ugly Christmas sweaters,’ with big grins on their faces. Another one was from Steve’s birthday, where she’d forced him to wear one of those horrible paper cone hats that read ‘happy birthday’ and she was blowing a noise maker at his face. She could tell that he was annoyed with the birthday party, but the camera had managed to catch him giving her the sweetest, most loving look.

Padding up the stairs, she made her way to the master bedroom, and began to take the cover sheets off the bed and dresser. She frowned when she saw one of Steve’s shirts still on the bed. Lifting it, she felt tears slip down her cheeks as it still vaguely smelled like him. With a heavy heart, she slipped out of her clothes and into the large shirt, before tucking herself into the bed.

His side still smelled like him.

She thought about his letter and tried to focus her attention to see if Steve was awake or not.

A young, clean-cut Bucky clapped a pre-serum Steve on the shoulder, “we looked for you after…my folks wanted to give you a ride home, punk.”

Steve frowned, standing on the steps of the familiar brownstone, “I know…I just kind of wanted to be alone.”

“How was it?”

Steve nodded, not entirely wanting to talk about it, “its okay…she’s next to dad.”

“I was gonna say-“

“I know what you’re gonna say Buck.”

“We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids,” Bucky offered, “it’ll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes…take out the trash…”

“You’re a piece of work, Buck.” Steve laughed.

Bucky kicked the brick and grabbed the spare key, handing it to Steve, “come on, Steve.”

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve sighed, “but I can get by on my own.”

“The thing is, you don’t have to,” Bucky frowned, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder once more, “I’m here with you til the end of the line pal.”

“You always play the sad memories…”

The Bucky from his former days, as well as the pre-serum version of himself faded until it was Steve standing on the porch of the brownstone. He gave a sad smile.

“That really you?” he asked, “or is my mind messing with me again? I feel like I’ve seen you in my dreams since you ran out on me…”

“I had to, Steve…they would have locked us up.”

Steve frowned, his eyes turning down towards her stomach, “y-you’re really…”

“Yeah…turns out I’m fourteen weeks…out of the first trimester…you’re a daddy, Steve…”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, and she let him see her as she was. Tears welled up in his eyes, “your home…aren’t you?”

“Only place that felt right,” she admitted with a frown. Steve gave a heavy sigh, and she bit her lip, “I-I wanted to spend the night here…I-I miss you so much, Steve.”

“I love you, baby…” Steve cried, letting himself break down ever so slightly. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her, “god…I know it’s not the same…but I feel like I’m holding you…I-I can hear it’s heartbeat…”

She froze, “Y-You can?”

“It’s quick…”

“A baby’s heartbeat usually is.”

“It’s strong…”

“Like it’s daddy.”

“I’m not strong enough to be without you,” he admitted, his face buried in her hair. He sobbed into the crown of her head as he held her, “god…I miss you so much, Hannah…I jus-“

“I can’t come back, Steve…I can’t let them take me…” she muttered, “I can’t let them know about our baby.”

“Come to Wakanda…” Steve begged, “I-Nat’s meeting up with me in a few days…you were right…they locked up Wanda…and Clint. And Sam and Scott…anyone that didn’t agree with the accords…you were right to run, baby…but Wakanda will offer us asylum…meet me there.”

“C-can we trust them not to hurt us, Steve?”

“I trust them, Hannah…and I trust you,” he said nervously, “but I need you to trust me...I need to know that your safe…I need to know that our child is safe. I need you to be in my arms again.”

"And I need to know our child is safe," you whispered, pressing a kiss firmly to his lips, "If you want to see me, you're going to have to come find us, Steve..."

Tag List: @designatednewbie, @blueeberryyy, @lohnes16

#electriclove #marvel #marvel au #the avengers #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #nomad steve

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