#(yells like iron giant guy) A R T

[safyresky]

HOW DO YOU DO FELLOW HUMANS, HUMAN FELLOWS. How we feelin after episode 4? Feelin like uh, we have MAYBE seeeeeen a takeover of the North Pole before? Albeit very different??? Still missing our frosty mans?!?!!?

WELL GOOD NEWS. IT IS 12AM, I AM DRUNK, AND I AM HERE WITH ANOTHER PLUG FOR ANOTHER FANFIC I WROTE CALLED THE TWELVE YEARS OF FROSTMAS.

Frostmas? you say. I see it mentioned, in passing, in Crystal Springs, which I have definitely read since you pinned it and offered it to us in a trying time! You say.

That's sweet, I reply. You can be honest, it's okay if you didn't read it!

Okay good, you say, because life gets busy and I'm fucking tired and it's so niche. There's barely any B-Man! Where is the B-Man!

I get it, y'all are B-Man stans. What's a Jack stan to do in this economy.

THIS, APPARENTLY.

anyway.

LET ME OFFER YOU A FROSTMAS! WHAT IS FROSTMAS ABOUT, YOU ASK? SIMPLE!

FROSTMAS IS MY OWN PERSONAL TAKE ON HOW JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA WENT FOR THE 12 YEARS HE WAS SANTA-ING ABOUT, BEFORE SCOTT CAME BACK AND THEY D-D-D-DUELED!

In TTYoF, commonly referred to here at SafyreSky Industries as Frostmas, Jack poofs to the moment the sleigh descends (because I said so) and starts his reign as Santa, the long way round. Of course, when he arrives, Bernard (YAY!) is like "well this is fucking WRONG" and summons the Council.

Unfortunately, Jack grabbed the coat; so now he's Santa. But then...who'll be Jack Frost?

Well, his Legate (remember that? From the Crystal Springs plug?) of course! His lil sister! My OC, Jacqueline Mother Fucking Frost!

AND ENTER JACQUELINE! WHO IS TELLING US THE STORY OF JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA FROM HER PERSPECTIVE! IT'S FIRST PERSON LADS! AND JACQUELINE IS ONE HELL OF A NARRATOR!

Seems good for Jack, right? He's Santa, Jacqueline is taking care of his old job? WRONG. BECAUSE MOTHER FUCKING JACQUELINE FUCKING FROST REMEMBERS THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

AND SHE IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.

Join her retelling of Jack's reign as Santa, which she has dubbed "The Twelve Years of Frostmas", and watch how Jack takes the Workshop from tradition to CAPITALIST HELLSCAPE! Watch as he slowly descends into "maybe we should get the guillotine" territory, and how the Workshop we know and love comes to be the capitalist hellscape we see Scott disassociate in in the film.

AND MAYBE a narrative in which an unhinged woman gets a villain arc and becomes her worst fear, while the not quite a foil foil (I forget the other word ): realizes that this isn't at all what he wants, and watch how it all unfolds! Wow!

this isn't a good sell but it's 12:30 am and I've had like, the equivalent of 7 shots and APPARENTLY 7 shot Dani is like, wow, i am a wordsmith. everyone should read this shit. wow.

TL;DR: I WROTE A FIC CALLED THE TWLEVE YEARS OF FROSTMAS THAT EXPLORES JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA AND HOW WE GET FROM WORKSHOP TO SANTA DISNEY LAND, FEATURING AN OC THAT TELLS US HOW IT WENT FROM HER PERSPECTIVE. AND ALSO DID I MENTION THAT BERNARD (YAY!) IS FEATURED PROMINENTLY? YEAH BERNARD (YAY!) STANS, I'M TALKING TO YOU!

So, in conclusion. Reasons to read The Twelve Years of Frostmas by safyresky:

Jack as Santa

Jacqueline Mother fucking Frost gets to be unhinged and maybe a bit antagonistic (a lot if ur Jack)

Bernard's there! (YAY!)

Also, Bernard is there! (YAY!)

Did I mention Bernard? (YAY!)

Reasons to NOT read Frostmas:

none

(i kid)

it is 1st person perspective and also features an oc prominently, so if either of those things aren't your thing, please disregard this long post and go about your midnight happily not reading 1st person or OCs

tho idk why anyone wouldn't like ocs

they're a whole bucket of fun!

[We here at SafyreSky Industries would like to give viewers and potential readers a warning about the Frostmas Effect, which may affect you if you choose to read. Frostmas is a bop, however, it is massively, massively long because our CEO, SafyreSky herself, is a slut for aesthetics and one chapter is always one year. The word count goes from 4-5k, to 8-10k, and suddenly 20-30k. Please use Frostmas wisely. We recommend frequent breaks. Please see a doctor if prolonged use of Frostmas keeps you up at night. We here at SafyreSky industries waive any and all responsibility to your emotional wellbeing after you embark on your reading journey. thank you for your time, be safe, and enjoy the descent into madness that is The Twelve Years of Frostmas.]

#dani speaks #the santa clause #the santa clause 2 #the santa clause 3 #the santa clauses #(alcohol mentions in the tags as well. be warned!) #no fr guys. it's so long. please pace yourself #IF U READ IT OF COURSE. NO PRESSURE. i just. wanna promote my shit u know?? #(yells like iron giant guy) A R T #anyway sorry for when you see this sobered up dani. or not?? we'll see if there's regretti spaghetti #bc lemme tell u. drunk dani rn? having a bit of that pasket #but that's what u get when u have a cocktail with tequila and then one with vodka and then a coffee one with liqueur #beer before liqueur never been sicker! which i've never been but all i smell is tequila and that shit is NASTY #every time i order a drink with tq in it im like. ah yes. it wont be that strong in it #IT FUCKING IS. EVERY TIME. I PLAY MYSELF. #ANYWAY for new followers hi! drunk dani is an irregular occurrence! #my gal pals here in my town i live in missed my bridal shower so they treated me to a girls night #and u know. it's free food. and drink. :) #no offence to those who do like it and yes you can make fun of me for being like ick! tequila! i deserve it lmao #alcohol mention #bc i did mention it in the text once or twice #ANYWAY BACK TO SCROLLING I GO AND THEN BED??? BUT IM WIRED #shakes fist at coffee liqueur #oh right and also! #long post

[yanderecrazysie]

Hii Bestie !!

I wondering if I could request the Yandere Alphabet for Bokuto if you haven’t done that already.

💜

HEY BESTIE! I'd love to! Bokuto reminds me so much of an overeager puppy- it's precious-

Bokuto Koutarou (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉

Warnings: yandere themes, slight mentions of marking and spanking

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it? 💖 Bokuto is the epitome of affectionate. This boy wants to cuddle, kiss, hold hands, WHATEVER he can do 24/7. 💖 Although he'll want to cuddle against you and hold you bone-crushingly close, this boy can also get a little rough. His kisses can be kind of bruising and he'll want to mark up your neck a lot. B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why? 🔪 Although I can picture Bokuto being willing to fight anyone who wants to hurt you or take you away, I actually can't see him trying to kill anyone. He's pretty sure he's the best of the best, so it's not like any of those other guys can steal you away from HIM! C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them? 💔 Bokuto wouldn't mock you. In fact, he'd just be over the MOON about having you with him. You'd be smothered in kisses and crushed in his hugs. He's not going to want to make you feel bad! 💔 Bokuto is the BEST at taking care of you! He knows everything you love and he's willing to get/do ANYTHING just for you! D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them? 💭 Bokuto is very, very delusional. Like, this boy sees a perfect future with you and he has no doubts that you're both going to get there soon. 💭 He's like the greatest??? You couldn't turn HIM down! He's the amazing ace- Akaashi thinks he's great so you do too! Right? Of course! E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them? 💧 Bokuto doesn't shut up about his feelings. Going into emo mode? Check. Whining about how much he needs your attention? Check. Letting you know just how much he adores you? Check. 💧 They talk about being an open book but Bokuto is a book you'd want to CLOSE after a while. Like seriously- he. Won't. Shut. Up. F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back? 👊 Cue "kicked-puppy" noise. He's going to stare up at you with wide, watering eyes. You've gotta be completely heartless if you don't feel the TINIEST bit of guilt when you see his heartbroken expression. 👊 "I-it's okay (Y/n), I forgive you, I love you, please don't fight me, please..." he's all but begging you, even after you stop fighting. He's clinging to you and sobbing into your shirt. 👊 Your flailing fists and feet aren't actually going to do any damage to that buff man but just the idea of fighting against him leaves tons of emotional scars in your wake. G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start? 😔 Bokuto feels bad that he went to the extremes. He KNOWS it's so so so wrong... but it feels so so so right. He LOVES you and that's the best thing, right? That makes up for everything, right? 😔 He won't ever regret his love for you though. If he has you in the end it'll be worth everything and more! No regrets, WOOO! H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 🔥 Bokuto can be a little... well... his emotions are extreme and can flip quickly. So if he's angry enough, you could get hurt. Like, he's not going to seriously injure you, but he'll be rough. You'll be shaking in your shoes for sure. I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 👩‍❤️‍👨 If Bokuto has his way, you'll be his pretty little wife and mother of a bunch of his runts. This boy will want at LEAST 3 kids. Like I picture him being that "cool dad" that roughhouses with his little boys and carries them on his back and just jokes around with them. He's practically a giant kid himself sometimes. J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 💢 Bokuto gets jealous if your attention is taken away from him. Platonically, romantically, whatever. If someone's

taking your attention and it's not him, he's gonna be PISSED. 💢 Suddenly, Bokuto is 10x needier than he's ever been. He's trying to catch your gaze, interrupting your conversation, clinging to you, etc. 💢 I mean, this boy will get jealous of a video game or TV show or book you're invested in. Not just humans. Animals too... Your attention should be solely on him, ya know! K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out? 🔒 Bokuto doesn't plan- it just kind of happens. He knew he wanted to take you away from all those attention hogs (ironic) and keep you with him and him only, but he didn't really THINK about it. It just kinda happened. 🔒 Okay, but seriously, I think he might even be more surprised than you when he kidnaps you. Like this guy's just kinda like "WOAHHH This isn't a dream? I actually did this? HEY HEY HEY" L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 💌 One moment you're living your normal life, the next moment there's Fukurodani's ace cooing at you and you forgot to say your last goodbyes to that normal life you'll never see again. 💌 I don't think Bokuto knows how to court, to be blunt about it. Like, Akaashi might try to give him some pointers ("You're overwhelming her." "Give her room to breathe." "Try never saying that again. Ever." "Stop, you're crushing her.") but Bokuto's pretty sure he's got this in the bag. M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before? 🎭 Bokuto's emotions are so over the map that no one's going to really tell that he's kind of losing it. Akaashi might be able to tell, but no one else will notice a difference. 🎭 Other than his overwhelming happiness and affection for you. I mean, you'd have to be blind and deaf to not realize Bokuto has a huge crush on you. He's not even remotely subtle. N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 🚓 Bokuto might try to isolate you a bit but if you make him angry- like really piss him off- I think he'd literally just bend you over his lap and spank you. Like, maybe that's weird, but I can really picture him trying to brat-tame you a bit. O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust? 📜 Although Bokuto's kind of overbearing and suffocating, as long as you're in his line of sight and, preferably, being touched by him, you can do whatever you want. Which... isn't a lot when he's hanging on you 24/7. P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 🕊️ Patience is not one of Bokuto's virtues, unfortunately. If you take too long in the bathroom, he'll come bursting through the door. Like, this boy can't stand a full 5 minutes away from you. Having privacy is not realistic, so don't get your hopes up. Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 🏃‍♀️ If you die Bokuto will go into emo mode for the rest of his life. He will be completely broken without you. He's so lost without you. You know that story where the dog waited by his owner's grave for the rest of his life? That's Bokuto. 🏃‍♀️ "Escape"? Yeah, no. Bokuto gets it, you wanted a little freedom, but it's time to come home, okay? You've already had more than enough time to yourself, so he'll come find you. And once he does, you're sure as hell never leaving again. R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down? 👿 "Explosive rage" is the best way to describe Bokuto's anger. You CANNOT calm him down, so it's best to book it and barricade yourself in a room until he cools down. 👿 If he's mad enough, he could hurt you, so stay the fuck away from him. He'll be throwing and breaking things and just generally yelling his head off. Again, barricade yourself in a room, it's honestly your only hope. S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling? 💍 Bokuto truly is a

love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he fell in love with you even more as he got to know you. You either met at one of his games or in some sort of shared class. I think that you would have stood out to him in a crowd. T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 😭 Each tear falling down your face is another crack in Bokuto's heart. He really does want you to be happy and he can't understand why you aren't. His solution is to just hold you tight until you calm down, which may not help all that much... U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Bokuto is already kind of different from the others in the way that he's not afraid to put you in your place and he has plans for the future that don't really require your cooperation. He's not changing his mind, no matter how strong your feelings are one way or the other.

👌 Not to mention, he's SUPER clingy. You can't pry him off of you. There's a strong possibility that you'll end up being very, very miserable with Bokuto. He loves you but he isn't willing to compromise or meet halfway on anything. His love is kind of selfish... more so than the average yandere.

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Akaashi will be over often. Like, I'm not even going to pretend like Bokuto will doubt his BFF. I really don't think Akaashi will be there to save you, unfortunately...

🧳 But Akaashi doesn't get to touch you. Sorry. You belong to Bokuto and, any attention you give Akaashi, you better give 10 times that to Bokuto.

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ You're lucky enough if you can detangle yourself from Bokuto's grip for more than 5 minutes, but, if you do, you can use very few things against him anyways. He's nothing but determined.

❌ If you're delicate and careful about it, you may be able to take advantage of his emotions. Fake sadness to gain his pity or get him so happy that he'll be less likely to deny your requests.

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 He's a bit of a worshipper, but not the classic type. He ADORES you and thinks you're absolutely perfect but... he doesn't exactly put your needs above his own. Like I said, he's a bit selfish.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 😍 It depends on how receptive you are to him. If you're trying to distance yourself from him and keep your freedom (or you just aren't interested in him that way), he's going to snap FAST. You'll find yourself in his house before you can say "HEY HEY HEY". 😍 Otherwise, if you start dating him, it'll depend on if you realize the toxicity of your relationship. If you try to break up with him or loosen his suffocating grip, you're in the same boat as if you denied him in the first place. Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances? 0️⃣ Leave him. If you deny his affection and love, he will not be happy at ALL. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. And he really doesn't care if you don't want that. 🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣 THAT TOOK SO LONG I'M SO SORRY- I feel like I portrayed him to be a little worse than he is- he really does love you!

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto #yandere alphabet #haikyuu!! #bokuto

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Firstborn | ii. pact

Summary: You make a pact with a demon, in exchange, you give him your firstborn.

Word Count: 2838 words

Page Count: 8 pages

A/n: hope you guys like the second part!

Tags: none :) feel free to ask to be tagged.

[ F I R S T B O R N  M A S T E R L I S T ]

       "We're doing this outside?"

        "Yes, [ Y/n ], outside. Don't worry, you won't melt in the sunlight. The sun is setting soon anyways." Solomon mused, taking the old path to an opening where he used to hold any summonings when he was younger, his excitement was radiating off him. The large Cajvana and Mercheasa trees clouded any vision past 6 meters, and the large roots had made the walk turn into a workout that even Adonis himself would struggle with, the fact that you carried the bag with all the materials needed as well didn't help your mood either.

        "After this walk, I better have thighs rivaling Hermes- Solomon! Don't laugh! I don't have gigantic legs like you!" You yelped, trying to catch up with your cackling younger brother, if he wasn't so tall you'd slap him upside the head.

        "Oh, I can't help it! Watching you struggle adds years to my life!" He laughed loudly, dodging the hand that swung at his head, only to run into the clearing that you finally managed to get to.

        "Hey! That's abuse! Why would you hurt your baby brother like that?" He joked, throwing his hands out to his sides, twirling around the open area.

        "I'll show you abuse! Get back!" You laughed, your intimidation falling through quickly, chasing the snowy haired man around the area. He managed to avoid you a couple times, checking you when you got too close, before he ended up tripping and falling on his ass- essentially causing you to die of laughter while you messed up his hair.

        It was a warm moment, something you were sure to think of whenever a mention of Solomon comes by, he always made you smile. He made even the worst of situations lighter, draining the dark grim smoke from the air and allowing you to breathe- your light. While you both chuckled and set up the large summoning circle he had planned, he made it seem so... natural. 

        You don't know how to explain it. This idiot- your idiot- always eased you into the wildest situations and made it seem normal.

        Like summoning a Prince of Hell.

        The second strongest one to be exact.

        Because he would be the nicest.

        What the fuck, Solomon.

        "Are you okay?" He asked, his hand pushing lightly on your back, the large bowl in your hand groaned in your grip.

        "Huh?" Looking up, you noticed the sun was going down at this point, the honey mixing into a delicious peach tone- before being kissed by the dark tears of the universe highlighted with the light of the heavens. So much color at one time, you always loved when the sun woke or went into its slumber, it was like looking at everything the universe had to offer for this short time.

        It calmed your mind. The stars never changed, they never left, always unchanging- never moving on.

        Moving on.

        Fuck, what are you going on about again? The stress must have been getting to you, making you have lucid moments that leaked into the manic ones, you just wanted this to be over. Have your family all right again. You wanted them to be safe, healthy, and live their lives. Get their jobs up and running, find someone, get married and have some kids. Live full lives.

        You wanted to move on. And you're working to it.

        But moving onto what? This new chapter in your life, in debt with a demon- tied to you with a promise to fill his greed, but that was better than now. Now it has no color. It's a cloudy night sky. Solomon is the wind, pushing away the clouds to allow the stars to bleed into the eyes of all the living beings here, he's doing what is natural to him.

        If Solomon was the wind, what are you? This demon you're summoning?

        "It's just, hitting me now, the shock has left and I'm understanding everything- this pact and what comes with it." You continued, looking up, wanting the concern to just... vanish.

        "Do you want to do this? You don't nee-"

        "Yes. I do." You cut him off, looking to the soft grass at the candles placed down sat firmly, the giant sigil decorated to accommodate the needs of Solomon and Mammon.

        "I'll light the candles, where are the matches?"

        "I usually use... magic... to light them." He laughed awkwardly.

        "Ugh. Alright." You closed your eyes, practically feeling the excitement radiating off Solomon, the man was shaking at the thought.

        "Calm down. It's simple-"

        "It's magic. Your magic. And you're using it, on your own, after all this time. I..." He trailed off, looking around as his eyes glossed up, his smile wavering slightly.

        "You've taught me so much, and after what happened with Mother, seeing- feeling your magic again just-" He took in a deep breath.

        "It's comforting. Like a warm hug, a Mothers love that I only found in you, something that makes me feel safe. You were always so beautiful when you used magic. So powerful, yet, gentle. It was- IS everything to me." He was trying to calm himself, breathing deeply as he turned from you, swiping any tears from his face harshly, turning his head down quickly to stare at a lone candle.

        You didn't know what to say, with a deep and soft sigh, you flexed your fingers lightly- warmth erupted from your nails and filled your blood, flames flickered in the air, a small figure dancing from candle to candle lighting the wicks as she went, another smaller form followed the other quickly before meeting at the candle Solomon was staring at. 

        "[ Y/n ]." He smiled, watching the two figures fly up as their flames trailed behind softly, both going to kiss each side of his cheek before fading into a small white smoke. The kiss from your pyre had him giggle, and you saw your baby brother again in a flash, before seeing the man in front of you.

        "I'll... make sure you feel that way more often. I promise." You looked at him with a smile, his eyes meeting yours, relieved you had him back.

        "Now, let's summon that demon."

        "Damn. Lay it on thick."

        "Heh."

        "Stop."

*****

        "You've been chanting for an hour now." You sighed, playing with the wrap on your palm, the cut that you had made was needed though. Blood is needed for any pact, Solomon told you, and is always spilled in any formation of one. He had told you about one demon he made a pact with, Asmodeus, who made one with him by kissing your brother and biting his lip- leaving him breathless and bleeding for the demon. 

        He didn't go into detail, but the red of his ears and pink dusting his cheeks spoke for him, you only smirked.

        At least your brother had taste.

        Literally.

        "He's a bastard! God!" He yelled in anger, before yelling the summoning again, hands in his hair as the pact marks on his body started to glow a deep, bloody, red once again. For what? The seventh time this night? Was this Mammon demon always late? Or just doing so because of Solomon's reputation? 

        "God? Ironic." You mused, moving the bowl over and laying in the middle of the circle, your tiredness had finally gotten to you and you're not fighting the bitch today.

        "Agh!" He yelled in exasperation, his body shivering while the cold nipped at his exposed upper body, all the candles flaring up into the air a few meters high before settling down again. The flames only lived for a few seconds before getting snuffed out by a harsh wind. Darkness enveloped the both of you and neither even dared to breathe in again. You stared at the darkened sky, Solomon stared at the ground, and the change in magic was felt. The weight on your stomach was nothing with adrenaline pushing your body to run or fight, though, fainting sounded like a good option too.

        He's here.

        There's a pull. Your heart is tugging forward, your eyes wanted to follow so desperately, but you didn't want to. There's a muffled sound.

        "Hello? You humans deaf or something? I'm here! Mammon! Your deity! Your god!" His face moved to yours quickly, his lower body sat comfortably on your stomach as both of his jeweled hands came to either side of your head. 

        Oh lord, and as ironic as it was, he had the face of an angel. Well, maybe a fallen one?

        Snowy white locks were messily placed on his beautifully tanned skin, icy blue eyes sparked with a flash of gold looked straight into your eyes, his face sculpted with love and adoration. Inky black horns twisted into themselves, contrasting from his hair, you noticed the small white markings that decorated the smooth flesh under his eyes. Your face flushed heavily, and your hands found each other as your left hand thumbed at your palm, your voice in your throat.

        "You came..." Wonder was in your voice, though quiet, it was heard. A large smile came onto his face, his eyes closed, and his head tilted much like a puppy.

        "Of course! You have something to offer up right? As long as I get my payment, I'll come running, loyal as ever!" He laughed, and though it was cute, you couldn't help but deadpan just a bit. He really lived up to his title, with the demanding aura he gave, though his personality seemed... off, but he is a demon, a demon who was greedy. The air around him felt heavy, lightening up the farther away you are from him, and yet it was so alluring. His presence demanded attention, good or bad, he wanted all eyes on him and everyone to listen to what he had to say.

        "Mammon! Off my sister, you moron!" Solomon's voice cut through the moment, grabbing him by the thick gold choker on his neck, his wings fluttered and flared as his air supply was cut off. Not that he needed it. He wore long black pants, very loose and made of silk, and they hung low on his hips, being held up by a tight golden scarf to keep them in place.

        "Stop being dramatic. You're immortal." Solomon sighed in irritation, having the demon land on his ass a few feet from you, his shirt back on his torso. Rolling his eyes, he helped you up, checking you over before going to collect the items used to summon Mammon. You noticed the ivory claws that were his nails, his bare feet held the same sharp nails as well, you couldn't help but look at Solomon.

        "Solomon, because you have a pact with Asmodeus doesn't mean you can treat me as you please, be glad I'm not like my brothers." The growl in his voice was evident as he stood up. The markings covered his entire body, and what didn't have white markings was covered in jewels and gold, his body was toned and defined quite well.

        'You're not thirteen. Stop. You've seen men naked before.' You thought to yourself, looking between Mammon and Solomon, you didn't know exactly what to say. You felt the irritation between the two of them, Solomon staring Mammon dead in the eye, almost uncaring of what he could do to him, but the last thing you needed was an angry demon and a brother who practically got high off his own magic.

        "I'm sorry about him, he gets a bit protective, are you alright?" You asked him, looking to his neck to see any irritation, which he lacked. You brought your hands up in a surrendering manner, not needing a fight right now, you would play mediator if need be.

        "Eh? I'm fine. Anyways, I was summoned, and quite crudely. Meaning you need something important, and you need it quickly. At any price." He mused, walking up to your smaller form, glaring down at you with a mischievous look. Your stomach dropped, it feels like so much has happened, but here you are.

        So close. 

        You're here. This is it. You pay a price and you save your sister.

        "I need you to cure my sister. She's deathly ill, I've tried everything, and now I need your help. Can you do it? Can you save my sister?" You stood your ground, staring up at him with intensity that shifted the mood, it was so quick it almost gave the poor demon whiplash. His brows raised and the smile dropped.

        "Oh." It was soft, barely there, but you heard it. He looked into the fierce fire that flickered into your eyes, but he saw it, the familiar begging look that he saw in his brothers- in himself the most. Wanting your sister to come back, to be okay, alive and well. His heart ached for a slight moment as he thought of his brothers, his late sister, even Diavolo and Barbatos. His entire situation. 

        Damn it. He needed to stop it. Being emotional always got him into trouble, and he needed to stop, but hearing your voice.

        Oh father, he felt a tug towards you, and this wasn't good.

        "What do you have to offer?" He didn't know what to ask for, curing a human and bringing them back from an inevitable death was expensive in the Devildom, and he wouldn't let his powers go for free.

        That wasn't in his nature.

        No matter what.

        He is a Prince of Hell. 

        He is greedy.

        "I have money, some status, I... have a lot. Though, it's in the family name, not directly to me- it belongs to my siblings and I." You thought out loud, realizing, everything you had- you shared. You all shared the money, the status, the knowledge. The only way someone could gain power from your family was to be in it- something your family had done for generations, to be sure that if one person died the entire family fortune and name wouldn't disappear and be stolen.

        Damn it.

        "So, you offer me your money and status, though, it all belongs in the family, hm?" He asked, a hand coming to his chin, the other holding his elbow. The wind blew and you shivered, Solomon came up behind you keeping a distance as you spoke with the demon, everything you two needed was in the netted bag.

        You had a lot, and he wanted it all, no doubt. He wasn't going to tear a family apart though, he's a demon, not a fucking monster. He knows what it's like to have a family torn apart, and having each other is the only thing that kept them going, he was the second eldest. While Dear Old Luci was to protect their physical well being and their status, Mammon cared for them emotionally for as long as he could, trying to mend the wounds that weren't shown to the world.

        He knew that burden.

        So how could he get what he wanted?

        Well, he needed someone in the family to be his.

        "Your firstborn. I want the first child you give birth to."

        "Mammon, what the fuck."

        "That's a thing?" You asked, surprised at the request, though you did feel your heart start up again. The shock was on your face and Solomon didn't look pleased. The wind blew harshly again, and you knew it was your brother, you sighed before turning to give him a look.

        "Solomon, shut up for a moment. I'm making a pact with your sister, not you, you don't get a say," His voice was low, and the magician looked at both of your eyes, the wind calmed just a bit. You still shivered.

        "I want the right to your firstborn." He spoke again, crossing his arms, golden chains and bracelets clink together as they met.

        "The right? As in? There are many rights you can have, you need to be specific." You said.

        "Every right. The right to marry them. To take them as my own. Any right you can give me, I want it." 

        "Why? Don't you want money? Or something else? Why a child?" You were curious why he would want your child.

        "I didn't think I'd have to explain it, damn it. Think, woman. If I have every right over your child, I can use them for my needs, so that when the time comes your debt is paid." He spoke nonchalantly.

        "Your needs?" You perked up a brow, wondering if your mind just had a habit of going to dark places quickly.

        "I am not making them a slave for my sexual pleasures, if that's what you're asking. I'm Mammon, not Asmodeus, I work with money." He looked a bit irritated, though the pink that flushed his ears spoke for his embarrassment. Was... he a demon that was shy about sex? Was that a thing?

        "My firstborn, and every and any right that comes with that, am I correct?"

        "Yes."

        "Then we have a pact."

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x you #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #om! mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #x reader #reader insert #demon x reader

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter three

Charlie’s place is frickin’ awesome.

That said, Dean doesn’t understand most of her decor. There’s a surprisingly beautiful oil painting of what looks like the bushy-haired girl from Harry Potter standing over the corpse of a monster with a face made of teeth; Charlie called it the Demogorgon, which clarified precisely nothing. On another wall, there’s a giant framed poster of the little shruggie emoticon dude, which, on closer inspection, is itself made of other shruggie emoticon dudes. In the center of the foyer stands a life-size marble statue of Poison Ivy, flanked on either side by two huge suits of armor, armed with iron flails.

Then, of course, the crowning jewels: a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling flatscreen TV and a tiny blue console that ostensibly contains every video game ever made. Charlie calls it the Deus ExBox.

“I swear to Jack,” Charlie mutters, fingers smashing against the controller buttons, “if you say ‘get over here’ one more time—”

Dean shrugs as much as he’s able while spamming the square button. “It’s the best move!”

“Yeah,” Charlie snorts, “and you cheese it.” She presses several buttons at once, and her character - a skinny brunette in a hilarious and mildly sexy bathing suit - kicks Dean’s guy about thirty damn times.

Dean makes a frenetic motion with the controller and goes full button mash. “You cheese Mileena! With your stupid tele-drop—”

“Hey,” Charlie starts, turning briefly to glare at Dean, “Mileena’s my main, ok—”

Dean uses the moment of distraction to pull the joystick hard to the left, tapping square one last time. His character - a rippling muscled dude in a skintight suit with a yellow loincloth - casts his spear at Mileena, yelling a guttural ‘Get over here!’

Mileena’s health bar drops to zero, and she sways back and forth. Dean gives Charlie a smirking side-eye.

She shakes her head and points a blunt-nailed finger at him. “Dean, don’t you dare. Dean.”

Dean gives her a winning smile and moves the joystick side to side, thumb hovering over the X button.

“Dean, don’t you dare toasty me—”

He taps the X, and Scorpion spits a pillar of flame at Mileena.

Fatality, the screen reads. Scorpion wins.

Charlie stares blankly for a moment, slack-jawed and dull-eyed, before cutting a glare at Dean. “I literally hate you.”

Dean’s mouth pulls into a wide grin, and he raises his hands in a shrug. “C’mon, who could hate this face.”

“What face?” Charlie grumbles. “All I see is a butt.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter, and his cheeks ache. He’s learned that Charlie is an appallingly poor sport, and her swearing tirades in the wake of a loss amuse him to no end.

She gives him a mild glare, betrayed by the play of a smile around her mouth, and reaches for her giant pint glass - ‘it’s a stein, you philistine’ - only to frown down at the flat dregs. She shifts as if to stand, then her face lights up, and she smiles over at Dean. “Hey, check this out,” she says, and the childlike excitement in her voice has Dean leaning forward. She raises the stein overhead and bellows, “Beer me!”

Her glass refills itself, bottom to top, an inch of fluffy white head settling over translucent gold. Dean’s brows rise, and his lips tick up. “See now, that I could get used to.”

Charlie gives him a self-congratulatory smile and passes the glass to Dean. He tips his head in thanks and takes a gulp, face scrunching up at the taste.

“Ugh, god,” he sputters, setting the glass down heavily on the low coffee table. “What is that?”

Charlie’s lips turn down in a dramatic pout. “Stella Artois.”

Ugh. What are they, at a bachelorette party in the Hamptons? “Aren’t you supposed to be a lesbian?”

Charlie gives him an unimpressed glare and hoists herself off the couch. “I’m a chapstick power alpha, thank you very much.”

Dean’s sure he knows what all those words mean individually, but- “Yeah, I got no idea what you’re talkin��� about.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and skips towards the kitchen, tapping the Yoda bobble head on the bookshelf as she passes it. There are several other action figures on the shelf, and a bunch of other tchotchkes, most of which he can barely make out in the dim fluorescent light. He glances over at the windows framing the dining table; he figures Charlie’s gotta have a great view, being situated so near the lake. But the curtains - done in a deep, velvety purple that looks like some sort of magic fur - are drawn, the afternoon light pooling just around the bottom.

Dean feels his brow wrinkle. “Hey,” he calls, “why are your curtains closed?”

“What?” comes Charlie’s muffled voice.

Dean rolls his eyes and waits until she comes around the corner with two dark bottles of IPA. “Why are your curtains closed?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, flopping herself onto the couch. “Cuz the sun’s out? Duh?”

Dean takes a bottle from her hand, twists off the cap. “You don’t like it?”

Charlie gives him a dry look. “Dude. I’m a pasty code-jockey otaku.”

This time, Dean isn’t sure he knows what any of those words mean. He squints at her, shaking his head.

She sighs. “Sunlight could kill me.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Ah.” He vaguely remembers a case he’d worked solo while Sam was at university: a teenage boy had spawned a Tulpa while writing a (surprisingly good) web comic. Dean had interviewed him in his dorm room - all empty Mountain Dew bottles and half-eaten bowls of ramen. Kid looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.

Back then, Dean had told him to pull the comic from his site and go the hell outside. Now, Dean feels mild envy for him and Charlie both.

“I miss rain,” Dean says, and it feels like a confession.

Charlie turns toward him and tilts her head, expression curious and bemused.

Dean harrumphs and adjusts his seat. “I mean, I like the—” he gestures vaguely toward the window, “—the picnic weather, too, I just...” he trails off, noting Charlie’s scrunched frown, and shrugs. “I dunno. Sam says there’re storms, past the mountain.”

Charlie’s brow smoothes at that, and she perks up, grabbing her stein with both hands. “Probably. All kinds of weird stuff over there.” She takes a long swig and gives a tiny burp that has Dean huffing a laugh. “You seen the mini forest in the field?”

Dean sobers and shakes his head. “He said that’s where the storm was.”

“Oh,” Charlie murmurs. “Huh. Wasn’t last time I saw it.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been over the mountain?” He tries to picture her with a bindle in place of an iPhone and hiking boots in lieu of her Converse, but comes up short.

Charlie smirks at him and takes another gulp, licking the foam from her top lip. “I may have spent my first afternoon here flying around on a broomstick like Harry Potter.”

Dean tips his head back in a nod. He really should’ve guessed that. He brings his bottle to his mouth, taking a cautious sniff to make sure he’s not drinking any more of that wimpy shit, and gives Charlie a sidelong glance. “Did you catch the snitch?”

Charlie beams. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean shakes his head and smiles. “Attagirl.” He takes a long drink, enough to clear the neck, and savors the bitter hoppy flavor on his tongue. It’s a damn sight better than the swill he’s had with Bobby. Or whatever the fuck Stella Artois is.

“It was on fire.”

Dean swallows and cuts a glance at Charlie. “What?”

“The forest,” she says, smoothing a finger over the lip of her glass. “I mean, not the whole thing, just a couple trees near this, like, barn thing? They were all charred.” She tilts her head, considering. “Coulda been lightning, I guess? I dunno.”

Dean feels a pit open up in his stomach, strange and unbidden. He sets his beer down on the table, butting it up against his controller. “You tell the Arch?”

Charlie shrugs. “Kevin said not to worry about it.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he turns fully toward her. “You talked to Kevin?”

When he’d heard through the grapevine that Kevin had finally made it over, Dean had sent Jack a silent, thankful prayer. He’s thought about checking in on the kid, but word has it he’s top dog at the Library - the new and improved Scribe of Heaven. Dean figures that’s about as close to ‘advanced placement’ as the kid is likely to get, this side of the pearly gates.

“I stopped by the Library,” Charlie says, nonchalant. Then she gives Dean a mischievous grin, raising her glass to her mouth. “Wanted to see if they had Lady Death in Lingerie.”

Dean frowns. “Is that... Is that porn?”

Charlie smirks at him. “It’s a comic, but... yes, yes it is.”

Dean blinks hard and gives her an incredulous look. “You got Kevin out of the Library ... for cartoon porn?”

“Hey,” Charlie demurs, “you don’t get to say anything about cartoon porn, I’ve seen your browser history.” Dean rolls his eyes even as his face warms, but doesn’t offer a defense.

“And no,” she continues, eyes going shifty. “He let me in.”

Charlie’s posture is stiff, her eyes round with manufactured innocence. She was a shit liar when she was alive, and she’s an even shittier one dead.

Dean gives her a blatantly doubtful look. “He let you in.”

Charlie puffs her cheeks out and her eyes dart side to side. For a second, she looks like she might try to stick to her guns, but she blows out a sigh instead. “Okay,” she concedes. “Maybe ‘let’ isn’t the right word.”

Dean breathes out a mildly bewildered laugh, pressing his forehead to the bottle in his hands. “You broke into Heaven’s Library?”

Her tiny white hands rise in a shameless shrug. “You can take the girl out of the corporate espionage scheme...”

Dean shakes his head, smiling wry but wide, stomach aching with laughter. “Pretty hardcore,” he says, then faces forward. “For a nerd.” He takes another short sip, noting Charlie’s scowl in his peripheral vision.

“Well,” she huffs and grabs her stein, “you’re pretty ripped.” She lets that hang for a moment, until Dean looks over at her, brows raised. “For a handmaiden,” she smirks and takes a smug pull.

Dean rolls his eyes and nods around a dry smile. Charlie gives a tittering laugh that he can’t help but return, and he polishes off his beer, shoulder butted up against hers.

He stares down into the empty bottle, turning it between his thumb and middle finger. “So Kevin said it’s fine?” he asks. He keeps his tone mild so as not to betray his peculiar unease, but he can’t quite suppress the note of concern. “Tiny burnt forest with lightning and a creepy barn?”

She shrugs and chugs the last inch of her beer in a great swallow. “I guess?” she says, voice thick. “I don’t know.” She belches for a solid three seconds, and Dean turns his lips down, impressed. “Got the feeling it was kinda...” she tips her head side to side, “top secret? Maybe not, like, nuclear football level, but… something.”

Dean snorts and glares into the chasm inside his beer bottle. “What, you think Heaven’s got an Area 51?”

Charlie shrugs again, grabbing her controller to select a new fighter. “Stranger things, I guess.”

Dean nods absently and casts his eyes about the room. The shruggie guy is still shrugging, Yoda’s head still bobbing, Ivy’s white marble eyes staring sightlessly toward the door. Dean’s gaze settles on a painting he hadn’t noticed, tucked into the corner behind a threadbare recliner: an abstract composition of flowing indigo and teal, offset by swathes of pale yellow edged in pink, with a crooked pillar of white rising up the center. Dean’s not much of a one for fine art, but something tells him this is a masterpiece. Ageless and tragic and blue, it tugs at a rough-sawn edge in his chest. He thinks it might be a flower or a river. Or a cloud. Or maybe a bruise.

It looks familiar, like he’s seen it in a textbook or possibly a museum. Then again, in Dean’s very short - and very, very long - life, he figures he’s seen just about everything.

Abstraction Blue by Georgia O'Keeffe

chapter two | chapter four

table of contents

#corinth rains #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #post canon #slow burn #dean-centric #tw: alcohol #chapter wc: ~2k

[friendlyspiderbite]

repost:

                                     O F  F A I L U R E  A N D  D U S T

INFINITY WAR DRABBLE

EDITED AND REVISED: NOW WITH EVEN MORE PAIN!

WORD COUNT: 2,224 WORDS

        “Magic! More magic! Magic with a kick! Magic with a–!” Peter is cut off when Thanos GRABS him by the neck and SLAMS him into the ground. As he struggles in a sudden PANIC, he can hear the word hissed by the giant: “INSECT.” And then he’s THROWN off to the side, YELPING in the process. He smacks into Mr. Strange as he flies through the air and then hits the ground HARD. Sitting up slowly and holding his head, he lets out a low GROAN.

        “You know, spiders aren’t INSECTS. They’re ARACHNIDS so if anything the joke’s on YOU…” He mutters under his breath before hopping back up and making a run for Thanos. He sees Mr. Stark BLASTED with a ray of FIRE and FEAR curls in his chest. Yeah. This isn’t exactly how Peter had wanted this day to go. At least, it wasn’t what he was EXPECTING. He was supposed to be on a field trip, joking around with Ned. Not in SPACE. Peter launches himself at the Mad Titan and webs the gauntlet, landing on the ground a little ways away and PULLING, but he’s overthrown, the giant yanks on his webs and THROWS him again. Slamming once again into the ground, Peter watches him get hit by some sort of spaceship.

   The mutant sees his opening as Mr. Strange encases the titan’s hand with weird magic bond things. He swings in and wraps his web around the dude. Thanos is so TALL, so POWERFUL. He’s frankly quite SCARY. Peter pulls HARD on that web,  but even with everything holding Thanos back his strength still isn’t enough. He feels the mechanical spider legs unleash from his back and PLUNGE into the ground beneath him, watches as Mr. Strange opens up circle thing for Mantis to fall through onto the titan’s shoulders and pulls with all his might. He hears the alien girl speak, “Be quick, he is strong,” and then Mr. Stark calling for him. The kid drops the web and leaps over to the other side where his hero is currently trying to pull the gauntlet off Thanos’s hand. He latches on and begins to pull, giving it his all once more. He puts every ounce of enhanced strength he has into this ( but it still isn’t enough, he’s worthless ).

        “We gotta open his fingers to get it off…” He exclaims suddenly, moving to pry the titan’s fingers open. He can hear the metal creaking. The stones are gorgeous, he notices somewhat subconsciously. He can hear a conversation happening, he can hear Quill questioning the titan, but he doesn’t care. He’s so close, as he STRUGGLES he can feel the gauntlet SLIPPING off Thanos’s hand. It’s going to be okay! They’re going to WIN. He’ll be able to go home and see Aunt May and Ned and the universe will be okay. But then he hears Quill YELLING. He’s SO CLOSE! Quill HITS him but the gauntlet is nearly OFF THANOS’S HAND, Peter has it in his grasp!

        “It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming! I’ve got it, I’ve got it!!” But in a flash, the titan has suddenly grabbed it back and the amount of FORCE the kid was using to PULL on that thing makes him FLY BACK about a hundred feet, smacking into the ground. The teenager’s eyes blow wide as he hits it. That stings. It stings his whole being, the fact that he just FAILED when he was so damn CLOSE to succeeding, any hope of that success CRUSHED in a mere SECOND. He feels it with his entire SOUL. He ALMOST had it. And then he DIDN’T. His mind wanders back to the Staten Island Ferry incident, where he had been 98% SUCCESSFUL, and it blows up in his head that THIS IS ALWAYS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIM. The mutant snaps out of it as he watches Mantis get thrown off as well and eyes blow wide again.

        “Oh god–“ and then he’s HURLING himself at her. Arms and legs wrap around the alien and the mechanical spider legs EXTEND into a cage around them. When they hit the ground, they roll, and the legs help stop them and right him so that he can hold her in his arms, checking that she’s okay for a moment. He watches three of his teammates become immobilized, he sees the parts of the moon crash into the planet, sees those three floating away helplessly. He knows he has to help them, so he goes after them. Shooting webs everywhere, he carries Mantis most of the way as he flies after his unconscious teammates.

       “I got you! I got you! Agh, SORRY I can’t remember any of your names!!” He yells as he webs the Footloose Guy to him as parts of the moon rain down on Titan. He’s distracted now, sure that Mr. Stark and Mr. Strange will be able to handle Thanos. They’re so amazing. Peter takes his time because he believes in THEM, he does what he does best, stays back and helps the little guy. He brings them to a place where gravity is normal enough and sets them down, returning in time to watch Mr. Stark fight with Thanos. He watches, feeling like a little kid again, as his hero seems to be WINNING. He doesn’t notice Mr. Strange lying on the ground defeated because he’s excited. The technology that his hero has been developing for so long is working!! He BELIEVES in Tony Stark, he BELIEVES in Iron Man!

   But then he WATCHES his hero’s helmet stripped away. He WATCHES ( ONLY WATCHES! ) as the man is punched out and thrown to the ground. He WATCHES Thanos pull the piece of armor off the gauntlet and use the power stone. But Mr. Stark is up again! Peter WATCHES his hero form a great shield with his armor, sees the tremendous power of the power stone itself DEFLECTED by this shield, and HOPE rises in his chest. He doesn’t quite know why he’s only watching, but he is. He’s frozen in place, blown back to the time his parents died, only WATCHING as the drones got them. Only WATCHING, crying, as the drone came for him too. He sees Tony Stark fly in and KICK the titan, he sees him get a big swing in and HOOK him on the face. The titan has bled! Peter can see BLOOD on his cheek!!

   But then Mr. Stark is THROWN BACK and BEATEN on repeatedly. Peter WATCHES ( he’s bouncing, biting his lip. He can’t make himself move into action, he has TOO MUCH FAITH in this man ) as his hero is flung back, hitting the ground again. He WATCHES the man shoot the repulsors, WATCHES as they are deflected. He does NOTHING. And he HATES IT. The sword forms on Mr. Stark’s arm and Peter believes, wholeheartedly, that this man can do it, he can KILL Thanos. But no. A hand claps over his mouth as the titan breaks the sword off like a TOOTHPICK and uses it to STAB his hero in the gut. He lets out an anguished sound, eyes suddenly filling with TEARS. He’s USELESS. He should be HELPING. He should be doing something, ANYTHING, but he isn’t. He can hear the titan talking, so loudly in his ears. He can hear EVERYTHING.

   Thanos’s words, “I hope they remember you.” reach his ears and he can’t move. He’s PARALYZED. The heroes are losing. They’re LOSING. He can’t fathom it. HE CAN’T MAKE HIMSELF MOVE. He wants to help. He WANTS TO HELP. He WATCHES as his mentor, the man he looks up to so much, the man who saved his life TWICE, is very nearly KILLED. He WATCHES, FROZEN IN PLACE, as Mr. Strange gives up the Time Stone so that he’ll live. And he WATCHES as the Mad Titan DISAPPEARS right then and there, Quill standing up with guns frantically pointing in every direction, yelling “Where is he!.” Peter can’t BELIEVE himself. He feels DISGUSTING. He’s a WASTE OF SPACE, a WASTE OF ARMOR. He could have aided his mentor, but he DIDN’T. And he HATES and LOATHES himself for it. His senses are prickling and his muscles are twitching and he just STANDS there for another minute before moving in to help Mr. Stark.

        “I’ve got you…” He says quietly, voice WAVERING. It’s okay. It’s going to be OKAY. As long as people back on earth can keep Thanos from getting Vision, from getting the mind stone out of his head, everything will be OKAY. He muscles his mentor up onto his feet and pats his back gently with SHAKING hands. He believes that they’re going to be okay. He believes that everyone back on Earth is going to be able to keep the mind stone from Thanos. He hates himself so much for NOT HELPING. At least then he might have died TRYING. But now all he can do is muster up the belief that everyone on Earth will prevail.

   Then he hears it. Something he doesn’t quite UNDERSTAND, something that RINGS in his ears and makes him CRINGE and FLINCH. The teenager looks around FRANTICALLY because that sounded like a SNAP. Eyes are wide, fingers twitching. He’s suddenly TERRIFIED. His senses start to BUZZ up passively and he hears Mantis speak, “Something is happening.” His eyes flit over to her and he takes a step back in SHOCK when he sees DUST breaking off her. His breath catches in his throat and he knows now that they’ve just LOST. He watches as the alien girl DISAPPEARS and turns his head to see the big guy ( he thinks his name is Drax ) turn to dust as well. NO. His heart is beating HEAVILY, his breath becoming shallower and SHALLOWER as his senses dial up another degree. He hears what Quill says, watches him disappear. His hands are shaking UNCONTROLLABLY. His senses are rising up, he’s sweating terribly, and he feels like he’s going to be SICK. His head whips around as Mr. Strange speaks up, and seeing him go makes him fall into a SILENT PANIC. Are they stuck on this planet alone? What’s HAPPENING?

   Then he FEELS it. Peter’s senses SKYROCKET, kicking into MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, and his stomach rolls. The teenager CLUTCHES his arms around himself and breathes heavily. When he exhales, DUST comes from his throat.

        “MR. STARK..?” He says with a SHAKY voice, stepping forward some towards the man. His entire body feels WEIRD, his senses are STABBING him and he wants to CRY. He does, he does cry. No ugly sobbing, but tears well up and roll down his cheeks.

        “I DON’T FEEL SO GOOD...” He keeps moving forward. He hears the other’s words, “You’re alright,” but he ISN’T alright and he KNOWS it. He looks down at his hands, mouth opening and closing like a fish. He looks back up at Mr. Stark, then back down, then up at him again.

        “I don’t… I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING, I don’t know–!” He STUMBLES forward. Legs feel WEAK. He falls against his mentor, hands FUMBLING to get a grip on him, to EMBRACE him. Everything HURTS. He doesn’t want to die. HE DOESN’T WANT TO DIE!

        “I don’t wanna go… I DON’T WANNA GO, SIR, PLEASE…” his hands grip DESPERATELY at the man’s clothes. His senses are stabbing everywhere, the PAIN is all he has to know that he’s still ALIVE. He uses that pain, CLINGS to it with EVERYTHING he has… “PLEASE, I don’t wanna go! I DON’T WANT TO GO!!” His words DEGRADE into SOBS as he feels the ground DISAPPEAR beneath himself. Except he knows that it isn’t the GROUND that is gone, but his LEGS. His fingers give out and break apart and he DRAGS Mr. Stark down to the ground with him, leaving his fingers on his mentor’s shoulders... He can feel his senses start to FADE, as the nerves strip away LAYER BY LAYER, but he’s STILL clinging to life. He clings to life even though it hurts so TERRIBLY bad. Lying on the ground now, he feels sobs wrack his body, but he doesn’t make a sound. He REMEMBERS something Mr. Stark said to him, “If you die, I feel like that’s on me.” NO. This isn’t his fault. This would have happened ANYWAY, right? If anything, this is Peter’s fault. He was useless. He FAILED. The child’s eyes shift to look at his hero as EVEN HIS TEARS TURN TO DUST. His whole body is DISINTEGRATING, DECAYING, DETERIORATING, but he needs to say one last thing to this man who has helped him through his ENTIRE life and probably doesn’t even KNOW it. He feels so ATTACHED to him and wants to make that APPARENT. All he can muster is a WHISPER, but he HAS to.

        “I’m sorry–“ DAD. He wasn’t able to get that last part out. His BREATH comes out as DUST blowing right into Mr. Stark’s face, and he feels life SLIPPING away from him. His chest CRUMBLES and CAVES and he can feel every single bit of it, and until the VERY LAST SECOND, Peter Parker clings to this life with ALL HIS MIGHT. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to go.

                                   But it’s too late. HE’S ALREADY GONE.

#&& ic. muscle to muscle and toe to toe; the fear has gripped me but here i go #drabble #[ here's a repost and revision of my old infinity war drabble! ] #[ now with even more pain!!!! ] #[ ask to tag ]

[spooky-scary-imagines]

Hi :) would you write one where ChopTop met the reader the the radio station along with Strech*idk if i spelled it right* but the reader dressed similar to him and was in a band herself makeing ChopTop love struck and just his stuttering getting worst and forgeting what to say witch the reader finds cute maybe it would get slightly nsfw to to the ebd but you can pick its ok if its just fluff :3 *sorry if its to long*

((Sorry this took so long! Gotta love my boy Chop-Top and this prompt not only gave me an excuse to rewatch his intro scene but it also seems super fun! It is a challenge to figure out dialogue for him tho because he’s so bizarre in all the best ways. This one didn’t end up being too romantic but I’ve been thinking about maybe writing a continuation for this just cause there’s so much more I can do with it. So let me know if any of y’all are interested! Tagging: @i-cant-get-with-it

Chop Top meets hippie s/o @ the radio station:

It’s been a pretty rough week at the station. Your good friend Vanita had gotten a terrible call-in the other day. Initially she thought it was a prank, as the men had been obnoxious all day, but even she couldn’t ignore the terrible screaming and shill grating of metal on metal. Not when she saw that article in the paper that seemed to match the call-in. She had told you about the plan she devised with some old sheriff, about playing the tape over the radio. To you it seemed like a bad idea and a great way to put a giant target on her back, but she was insistent that she had to do it and make a difference. Despite your worries, you couldn’t just leave her alone, so you decided to stay with her after that night’s broadcast.

Tonight had done nothing to ease your concerns, angry callers had been cursing out the station and since Stretch first aired the tape. L.G. seemed to be the most upset by it, talking about how much trouble Vanita was going to get into, though anyone with eyes could tell how soft he was on her. Sadly, it didn’t seem like the feelings were returned quite the same way. At least not yet, you thought, as you watched her turn down his offer to grab some coffee with him. Guess you two were sticking around for this “Lefty” guy.

Shortly after L.G. left, you heard the phone ring. You went to reach for it, but Stretch got there first. “Hello?…Hello?…Lefty?” You could guess from her side of the conversation that she was being met with silence. You raised an eyebrow and she looked at you, equally confused. The mysterious caller hung up. “What the hell was that all about?” you asked.

“No clue,” Stretch shrugged, “We get some weird callers sometimes, but-.” As if on a cue, you two heard a small slam from the other side of the station. Vanita’s eyes flicked to you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Stretch had been gone for a suspicious amount of time, when you decided you needed to go after her. You stood in the doorway of the hall leading to the lobby. From there, you could hear Stretch and a strange male voice, talking manically. “Hi, I know what you’re thinking. This is weird. Hope I can handle it.“ You peered out into the lobby, there you saw Vanita nervously backed against her desk, across from her was an odd man. He appeared to be in his 30s, dressed in patched and campy hippie clothes, the odd look topped off with a shappy mop of black hair and lavender Lennon specs. Though a somewhat tacky outfit, it reminded you of the way you and your bandmates dressed, especially when hanging out around at festivals. He started getting up and moving towards Stretch, and you walked out from the doorframe. Both sets of eyes looking your direction.

“Uhhh, hey man…what’s up?” you asked, awkwardly trying to redirect him. He turned to you, and looked you up and down, face unreadable.

“Wh-Who  the hell’re you? I thought it was j-just the DJ?”

“Well it isn’t space cadet! Who the hell are you?”

“I-I-I’m just a fan,” he turned back to Stretch, “Me and my little brother, Bubba, we listen to this show e-every night.” He turned back to you with a sick grin, “Music…is my life.”

You smiled at that, “Oh? I dig it. I’m in a band myself.”

His eyes went wide at that, and the barely contained manic energy in him seemed to ramp up, “O-Oh yeah? Wh-What’re you like? Something h-h-heavy? Like-like Iron Butterfly!”

You chuckled. Despite him being kind of a freaky-deaky dork, you had to admit the spaz was kind of endearing and a little cute. “Kinda. We’re more like Vanilla Fudge or Quicksilver Messenger Service than anything.”

“Far-Out! So-”

“I hate to interrupt,” Stretch cut in, “But the station is closed for the night.”

The man turned back to her, a strange glint in his eye and a sick grin that made you shudder. “Well, y’see, I wa-wanted to phone in my request but, but I al-al-always get too nervous, y’know?” He paused for a reaction before continuing, “But, well, since I’m here. In-In flesh-and-blood…I figured I could just give you my request now right!

Stretch looked to you for help and you just lifted your hands in a shrug-like gesture. “Uh, sure, sure. You can tell me your request and then you need to leave.”

The man chuckled, and started heating up the coat hanger he was holding with an old rainbow lighter. “Al-Alright…How about Cold Stone Fever from uh, Humble Pie! Or uh…” he picked at his scalp, ”In Da Vidda da Gadda babey. Heh heh yeah…” he turned to you, “Real, uh, heavy stuff, y’know.” You hid a laugh behind your hand, at his goofy smile and the fact that he got both song titles wrong.

Then that menace was back in his eyes, “Or…how about s-something like that, uh, Lefty r-request record you played today? How’d it go again?” You and Stretch’s eyes went wide as the man screamed and growled in mimicry of the terrible sounds of the attack. You looked at each other in mutual fear at this man standing between you and the exit. “Wh-What was that anyway? R-Rambo III soundtrack?” he chuckled at his own joke. “Could you play it again? Or, uh, m-maybe you co-could get me a copy!” He grinned, “You could both sign it. To-To-To a far out fan!”

He seemed to respond better to you so you spoke up, “We, uh, actually don’t have a copy. Sorry sir. But we could, er,  play your other requests.”

Something dark passed over his face that you couldn’t quite place. He looked to the side in the records vault. “Hey, uh, is this where you keep the golden oldies? And mayb-” The rest of the sentence was cut off when the lights suddenly flipped on, revealing a horrifying giant wielding what looked like a chainsaw. You and Vanita screamed, she ran off towards the back rooms while you ducked out of the way into the far corner of the room behind and hid on the far side of the sofa. You heard the man from earlier hollering in pain and wailing at the giant to “Get the girl!” You saw the giant run after Vanita through the door, and you peered out from your hiding place. You watched the man from before scream and clutch at his head. “He dented my plate! My brain is burning! Nam flashback! Nam flashback! Leatherface, you bitch, I’ll…Oh just look what you did to my Sonny Bono wig. Oh, God damn it!”

You listened to the man’s cries of pain and rage from your hiding place as you resisted the urge to help him. Judging from what you could make out from his rant, he was clearly with the man trying to kill Stretch. Oh god…Vanita…what have you gotten yourself into? He eventually managed to get to his feet and began to go through the records vault, muttering something about dogs hunting. You covered your ears and tried to block out the terrible sounds coming from behind the door leading to the recording area.

You heard a door open from the other side of the room. “Hey! What the shit?” L.G was back! Maybe he could get the police and everything would be okay.

“Lick my plate you dog dick!” the hippie yelled, flipping L.G. the bird. It would have been funny if the whole situation wasn’t so terrifying.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing in here, you crazy-looking little son of a bitch? Get out of here!” You wanted to scream at L.G. to run out of here and get help, that these guys were totally buggin and super dangerous. But you stayed quiet for fear of revealing your position. This turned out to be a lethal decision as the man lunged at L.G. brandishing a hammer. “Time for incoming mail!” he shrieked, slamming into hammer into L.G.’s skull, “Ho Chi Minh!” Over and over you heard the sickening thuds through your covered ears. You squeezed your eyes shut but you couldn’t pretend it just wasn’t happening. Hell, the same thing was probably happening to Stretch right now .

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the warmth of the tears sliding down your face, but someone else did. You open your eyes to see the killer’s leering face less than a foot from your own, “H-H-Hey there, rock’n’roll b-bunny! T-th-th-thought I lost ya t-there.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” you sobbed, “I’m, like, really sorry for whatever’s making you upset.”

This seemed to make the man nervous, and he started picking twitchily at the edge of a metal plate embedded in his skull. “I-I…I ain’t g-gonna, er, kill you. J-Just…” he looked around the room frantically, as if trying to find a solution to his problem. He spied the hammer over by L.G.’s corpse and his face broke into a grin. He scrambled to grab it, whipped back around, and started getting closer to you, arms out ahead of him as if you were a spooked animal. And I guess in a way you were. “N-Now do-don’t move or-or nothing. It It ain’t gonna h-hurt.”

Your soft sobs turned into bawling, “NoNoNo Oh God PleasePleasePleasePlease Don’t do this Please don’t do this!”

You noticed some emotion flash across his face that you couldn’t figure out. “A-one and a-two and a-three!” and the hammer fell down on your skull. You collapsed, yet you kept fading in and out of consciousness. You heard footsteps coming through the door to the studio and what sounded like the two men having a one sided conversation. “Did you get her, Bubba? Did you get that bitch? She was my fave…but-but she knew! And now…nobody knows!…L-look what you did to my plate, you bitch!…Y-You got her? Di-Did you get her good?…Slap me five!

You heard footsteps coming closer but you couldn’t see what was happening as you felt yourself getting dragged over to a damp section of floor. “I got some too. Bonus bodies! Look at that beef,” you vaguely felt a slap against your thigh, but it was as if you were made of cotton. “Help me get it out of here!,” said the hippie as you felt yourself be hoisted onto the larger man’s shoulders.

 You were tossed in what seemed like the back of a truck, though you were so dizzy it was hard to tell. Finally you succumbed to your head injury and passed out. The giant, Bubba, left to sit shotgun and only Chop-top stayed by, standing over you with a dopey look on his face. “Don’t wo-worry baby, we’ll b-be home soon,” he gave you a sloppy peck on the cheek and ran back around to the driver’s side. “Alright Bubba! Let’s blow this pop stand!” he yelled, and sped off back to where the rest of the family was waiting.

#YEE-FUCKING-HAW #chop-top sawyer #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher imagines #slasher

[sophs-the-name]

“Troop Leader” Epilogue

Summary: How will your father handle the fact that James Buchanan Barnes is the one mending your broken heart?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Fluff central, Dad!Bucky

Word Count: 944

A/N: This is the end! I will move anyone from the series tags to my permanent if they send me an ask! I have a few series ideas that i will write out summaries for and have you guys choose! 

Troop Leader Masterlist

Seven Years Later

“Babe, please just five more minutes.”

“Nu uh, Mommy. Today’s the first day of troop meetings! Daddy said he would meet us there!” your little six-year-old shouted at you.

“All right Becca. I’m up, I’m up.” You said begrudgingly while Rebecca tried her hardest to pull you out of your comfortable king size bed.

One year after being together, you and Bucky had the surprise of a lifetime, your daughter, Rebecca Winnifred Barnes was born. She had her dad wrapped around her finger the moment she let out a little cry.

“Mommy! I want pancakes! And some stwawbewwies!” she still wasn’t able to pronounce her R’s and it made you smile every time.

“Okay, baby. Why don’t you put your outfit on then you can eat.” She smiled wide at your suggestion and ran to her princess-themed room to get ready for the day.

You were pulling all the ingredients for pancakes off the shelf when your daughter came running back in. she had on her Winter Soldier tights and Captain America T-shirt. Her girl scouts vest was layered on top. She definitely like to represent her dad and favorite uncle.

She climbed up to sit on one of the barstools to eat the pancakes that you had just flipped off the stove. She shoveled the fluffy rounds into her mouth. You had to place a napkin over her shirt so she wouldn’t get any syrup on her eccentric outfit.

“Thank you, mommy.” She mumbled through bites of food.

You gave her a kiss on the forehead and excused yourself to go get ready.  

 You drove to the tower with your daughter placed in her car seat. Tony had insisted on having your troop’s meeting at his tower every time. It gave him an excuse to see his granddaughter. Bucky still worked at the tower. He didn’t go on missions anymore, he retired once Becca was born. He worked as a consultant for the Avengers. He would devise plans of attack and work through the comms while they were on missions, but he did it from the tower.

You pulled into the parking garage of Avengers Tower and saw Bucky waiting for you by the elevator.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Rebecca screamed while still in the car.

He sent her a giant smile and huge wave while jogging over to get her out of the car.

“My Princess! I missed you so much! I missed you too, Mommy.” Bucky smirked over to you.

He had only left earlier this morning, but he always missed his little Princess.

He pulled Becca from the car seat and gave you a kiss on the lips. Becca made a disgusted sound at the act, but you two just laughed. He grabbed your hand and walked both of his girls back into the tower.

“Tony already set up the common room for the girls. I think he is more into this Girl Scouts thing than Becca is.” Bucky whispered to you.

“He just likes to spoil his granddaughter, Babe.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Daddy! Mommy made be pancakes and gave me bewwies this morning! And look! I wore my Wintew Soldiew tights!” she screamed out.

“I see baby. And you’re also wearing Uncle Steve’s shield!” he laughed.

She always seemed to want to wear anything that has to do with the Avengers. Her whole closet was full of clothes just with their symbols on it. Nat even got her a mini cat suit that she wears whenever Becca knows she is going to see Natasha.

The elevators dinged and they opened to a fully decorated common room.

“I told you so.” Bucky mumbled to you.

“There’s my two favorite girls!” Tony yelled from the kitchen.

He walked out covered in flower and dough.

“Pepper and I were making cookies for the kids. Well, mostly Pepper.” He told you.

“I think you’re wearing most of the ingredients, Dad.” You laughed while avoiding his embrace. You couldn’t get yourself full of flower.

“Grampy, look at my shoes!” Becca yelled still in Bucky’s hold.

“Are those iron man shoes I see! If only your mom would let me make you a little suit!” he exclaimed.

You had been trying to stop him from making her a suit ever since she turned four. You couldn’t have your daughter flying around all of New York!

“The girls are going to be here any minute. We have to make sure everything is ready! It’s the start of the season after all!” you said excitedly.

Becca wriggled herself out of Bucky’s hold and made her way into the common room. Tony had order pizza and Pepper’s homemade cookies were set out on the table. Tony looked around, proud of the work he had done.

“You got yourself a good kid there, Terminator. I wouldn’t have anyone else take care of my girls.” Tony said to Bucky while looking away from him.

He couldn’t help but smile at Tony’s truth. Tony had given Bucky his blessing once Becca was born. He saw how in love with both you and Becca he was. Tony knew he would give you girls the world if he could.

“Thanks Tony. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Bucky said back.

It was the most sentimental they had ever gotten with each other. They gave a handshake and Tony made his way back to Pepper in the kitchen. Bucky watched you move around some of the things Tony had set out. You were ready to start this season of cookie sales with your daughter and all the first-time Girl Scouts.

You were their troop leader after all.

Permanent: @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @opaque-daydream @betsy1066 @imagine-all-the-fandoms @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @pacifikaproudaotearoa @ria132love @whyugottabsorude @girlwith100names @iamwarrenspeace @rosecharlotteweasley @buckyappreciationsociety @kika-doll

Series: @arabellaaurorabarnes @alicerozenju @magellan-88 @permanent-lines @dairyfarmher9 @betherz5683 @hollycornish @fayrizo @kyritha @aqueenwithoutherkingx @r5-5sos-magcon-youtube-janoskian @sexysamsungl @buenostardissherlock @nykeemauniverse @marvel-fanfiction @ri-wantstorunaway @hillrich @summerbummer2001 @hmltntrsh51 @todorath @bubblegumbutt27 @dankmemesofphan @thatbitchsaidhi @sapphire1727

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #dad!bucky #father!tony #tony stark x reader #tony stark #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #my writing #troop leader series

[winter-soldier-writer-blog]

You Need a Maid? Chapter 10

Fandom: Avengers / Marvel Rating: G / PG13 / R Warnings: Sexual situations, swearing Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, blah legal stuff. Don't sue me, I'm poor. Songs: Cake by the Ocean - DNCE

Please note: Rating will be changing to R from here on out.

Chapter Menu

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The next morning you woke up finding your bed empty. The pillows were even cold. You looked over at the clock and rubbed your eyes; it was only 7:30. You felt a tug on your heart, a little disappointed in Sam. You wondered how things were going to be at the facility now. Crawling out of bed you nudged around the floor, looking for your panties.

Hearing the door click open you froze, using your hands to try to cover your naked body. Staring at the door like a deer in the headlights your heart beat in your throat as you waited to see who it was. As they stepped inside from the hallway you relaxed. Already so comfortable with your nudity around him.

"Jeez Sam, give me a fucking heart attack." He laughed and produced a plate of food from behind his back. "I was trying to get you breakfast in bed, but the staff gets pretty upset when you try to take plates away from the buffet."

"Sammy! You big romantic!" He placed the plate on the nightstand and you went over to hug him, forgetting your lack of clothing. His cheeks grew warm as something stirred in his pants and you giggled sinfully.

You hand brushed against him and he shivered. "That's not a very fair game to play." He said, picking you up and carrying you to the bed, you laughed the entire way there. Soon you replaced your laughter with moans.

"Come on, guys!" Yelled Steve, banging on the wall. You both stopped, erupting into laughter.

------------ You returned that day to the facility, stars in your eyes, and everyone could see it. Of course, there was the exception, Bucky. His looks of disgust, anger, and despair felt like it would swallow you whole like a black hole. Well, everyone knew about you and Sam at this point. Unfortunately for Bucky, who's room was right next to yours, he got to hear the late night giggling that went on. It didn't seem to improve his mood any, and his newest game became 'let's be an asshole to Sam'."

"He's got to have the hots for you."

"Oh come on Nat, ever since I got here he's hated me." You scoffed, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

"Why else would he be so...moody over this Sam thing?" She nudged her cup at you, signaling for a refill.

"Because he's not getting any?" You shrugged. Bucky's sex life was the last thing you were thinking about. Somehow though, you were always thinking about Bucky.

She snorted, plunking three sugar cubes into her cup. "I think he's got a raging metal boner for you, and he just won't admit it." You shook your head in disbelief. You'd be lucky if you could get Bucky to be your friend, there was no way he'd ever be your lover. A song came on the radio and you turned it up, bouncing along.

Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece You should be rolling with me, you should be rolling with me, ah You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy But you're moving so carefully; let's start living dangerously

Talk to me, baby I'm going after this sweet craving, whoa-oh Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean Walk for me, baby I'll be Diddy and you'll be Naomi, whoa-oh Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean

------------ December reared its head and with it more missions for the team. Things had gotten hectic for them, leaving you pretty lonely at home. Thankfully it gave you plenty of time for Christmas shopping.

You had finally finished shopping for Tony, certain that he would appreciate your efforts, at least. It's hard to shop for fucking Iron Man. You had opened the front door and were lugging in the bags and boxes when you heard a crash. Aw, fuck. Not this shit again. You walked inside, clutching your purse, the only thing heavy enough that you could think to use as a weapon. Hey, the guys complained when they had to carry it, so it must be heavy. There in the kitchen stood a tall, built, blond. Wearing a cape?

Seeing you he grabbed the hammer off the island with ease as if it weighed a feather. You gulped dropping your purse and put up your hands, showing you were no threat. A tube of mascara rolled from your spilled purse to his boot. Please don't squish the $30 mascara, cape man.

"Who are you?" His voice was strong and his tone serious. You felt your mouth go dry.

"Y/N, who are you?" You struggled with the words, your voice shaking.

"I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard." His voice boomed, shaking the walls. Did you see lighting outside? Well, color you fucked. ------------------

The front door swung open and you could hear the team's exhausted footsteps in the foyer. The smells wafting from the kitchen lured them forward like a siren's song, but when they heard another voice besides yours, they bounded in, confused and ready to fight.

You were laughing, giving the blonde another helping of loaded mashed potatoes. He stuffed his face happily, eating as quickly as you could serve him.

"I'm not going to have any food left!" You chuckled, then turned to see the team. "Hey guys, t--"

"THOR!" Everyone yelled, exasperated. They could have used his help today.

He smiled with a mouth full of food. "I like this tiny human! I think she can stay!" Everyone groaned, clamoring in to get a plate of food before Thor ate everything.

"Are you here to help with the missions?" Asked Natasha, taking a seat.

"No." They all stared at him, growing more irritated by the minute.

"I'm here for Christmas!" -------

You had asked to stay for Christmas, explaining that your family had decided to go on a cruise for the holiday. Tony shot you a strange look, as if he could see through you, but still who could say no? None of them had anywhere else go, and watching you make cookies, sing carols, and decorate the tree was adorable. Especially when you did it with Sam.

Christmas morning you and Thor were both up at the crack of dawn, like excited children. He whined about not getting to open his stocking until the others woke up. You finally gave in, letting him open one small gift. He was like a giant, muscular child. It was pretty cute.

When the others finally joined the living you gathered in the living room. The Christmas tree was lopsided, Bucky's doing. You had asked him to carry it in and set it up, and he just couldn't get it to sit in the stand right. Not really his fault. It added charm, you thought, looking over the tree, surrounded by presents. Thor requested he that he got to play 'the fat jolly man who decides if one is nice or naughty', and so donned the Santa hat and handed out gifts. Seriously. Cute.

You were admiring the team, looking more and more like a family, when Thor waved a gift under your nose.

"And this one is for Y/N from Sam." He handed you a box, wrapped in snowflake wrapping paper. You tore into it, excited. Opening the box you gasped, pulling out the tiny constellation. "It's your zodiac sign," Sam explained, smiling. You touched it gently, the 'stars' shimmering on the figure. "Oh Sammy, it's beautiful. I'll have to put it on my nightstand where I can see it every day." Steve and Natasha grinned at each other as Thor handed out another round of gifts.

"Y/N, this time from Bucky." You looked surprised, taking the gift. You didn't expect anything from Bucky. Sure, you had gotten him gifts, because that's what you did. You were nice like that.

It was a very small box, the wrapping paper hanging on by lots and lots of tape. It looked like he had tried his best to wrap it, but the wrapping paper won. You ripped into it, finding a ring box. You looked up, confused. Sam was watching Bucky, an unpleasant look on his face. You opened the top finding a peridot ring shimmering back at you, the small stone surrounded by silver. You had never gotten a ring before.

"I heard you liked green stones, and I saw it during a mission." He mumbled. You slipped it on, still awestruck. Bucky had thought about you. Holy shit. Bucky remembered something about you. Holy shit!

"Raging metal boner," Natasha whispered next to you. You elbowed her in the side, still looking at your ring.

Maybe Bucky Barnes had a heart after all. You watched as he opened your gift to him. As he grumbled about the sweater being any color other than black you laughed a little. A tiny, rusty, metal heart.

---

@thatweirdgaygirl

#avengers fanfiction #reader x avengers #avengers #avengers fanfic #sam wilson x reader #the falcon x reader #sam wilson #the falcon #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #natasha romanoff #black widow #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #smut #winter-soldier-writer