#and that's just so deeply rotten like what was even the thought process behind that?

[inspector-montoya-fox]

i was thinking in the shower about how things would have turned out had Bentley managed to break into the Cooper Vault without needing to recruit anyone. for starters, there wouldn't be a Sly 3 lol... i mean Sly and Bentley would definitely have gone after Murray so An Opera of Fear and Rumble Down Under would have happened i guess but for the sake of the post let's say they wouldn't have asked the Guru to join the gang. so no Netherlands and no China meaning no Penelope and no Panda King, and by extent no Dimitri because of no deal in Netherlands.

removing Sly 3's secondary characters kinda puts things into perspective in terms of character development. in Sly 1 we collected Thievius Racconus pages as we got closer to the truth and Sly learned new tricks and honed his skills in preparation for his encounter with Clockwerk. Sly 2 was just a traumatic trainwreck altogether like SP really put the gang through the wringer idk how they survived.

in Sly 3 this development is brought about through the secondary characters and their relationships with the protagonists. Penelope drives a wedge between Sly and Bentley forcing the latter to muster up the courage and step outside of Sly's shadow for a minute; Panda King's return demands Sly to mature and let go of the past; Dimitri tests the gang's patience; both Penelope and Panda King contribute to the Murray van storyline which kinda exhibited that yea! in the long run, Murray might be the dummy of the group as Dr Michael chastises at the end but he is definitely the heart of the gang.

but if all this never happened then how would Honour Among Thieves play out? funny thing is, even if they recruited the extended gang, shit hit the fan almost immediately upon arrival so i'm assuming the same would apply if the original trio had tried to pull it off on their own? no? as a sidenote: i'm also thinking that Sly 2 is the only game in the series that kinda had like the aspect of urgency if you think about it. someone stole the Clockwerk parts and they were going to rebuild him so tick tock bitch. Sly 1 and 3 however don't really have that sense of time pressure. the Fiendish Five were sitting on their asses for literally a decade before Sly popped up for the pages and don't even get me started on the possibility of Dr Michael managing to crack the Cooper Vault open like what a loser lmao. with this in mind, Bentley would have the time to develop his tech in order to do the tasks that the extended gang members would have done. i mean if he managed to build a time machine surely he could make his tech waterproof ?

so the entire heist goes according to plan with the possibility of them tripping that stupid alarm still at play. i never intended to do a full play by play "what if...?" of Honour Among Thieves but suffice to say Carmelita would 100% show up to save the day even with the change of context. i think the most important change would be that Bentley's run-in with Dr Michael would go down very differently. i don't think he'd defend Sly; i actually think Dr Michael would get to him even without Penelope's introduction because she only brought out feelings that were brewing deep in Bentley's subconscious (especially after the end of Sly 2, becoming disabled for a cause that was never his and that dedication arguably never being reciprocated). he might not have shown it in the moment but i think that conversation would significantly shape Bentley's character and if Sly got out of the episode unscathed, the gang would probably split. leaving the Guru behind would also give Murray the motive to go his own way.

it's clear that Sly 3's secondary characters helped the gang get over some unspoken issues they had between them, even if they got resolved behind each other's backs (because Bentley only vents to Penelope about his feelings and doesn't go straight to Sly, who, in turn, doesn't even know there's an issue to begin with). personally, and i feel kinda stupid for suggesting something so simplistic in relation to how this game would be better like 7-8 years after being on this godforsaken website and analysing it to the point where it feels like the bible, i feel like one more episode would help really flesh out the problems the gang had. we never get direct acknowledgment or accountability from Sly and it feels like he's too focused on entering the Vault to care about Bentley's feelings, or anyone else's for that matter (there's like 7 anon asks gathering dust in my inbox about why i have anti-Sly sentiment and that number better not go up). all it takes is a 'you know what guys? you should enter the vault with me after literally sticking by me since childhood and risking your lives fighting my own battles' and they shoot up the van like it's a guest on Wendy.

Sly 2's ending proved that the protagonists aren't Riverdale characters who just go through weekly life-threatening events without any guilt, trauma and anxiety; and then in Sly 3 we get high-stake situations akin to the ClockLa saga, like the Dragon snatching Penelope, but because it's crammed between episodes instead of games, the characters come out of it seemingly unfazed. the complete lack of recognition for all of this makes it seem like Sly is an awful leader for the gang. like i think Penelope would genuinely snap when she got taken hostage by LeFwee after the dragon thing.

i think the internal politics of the gang could have been explored way better but i understand that juggling that and the introduction of one new character per episode would be impossible. i'd love to see Bentley confronting Sly, Murray realising that he's getting more support about what matters to him (the van, the Guru's wellbeing) from the literal strangers they've recruited than his best friends, Sly realising that his lack of involvement in the gang's friendship is what turned Dr Michael against ConnEr. maybe Honour Among Thieves could have been a two-parter honestly. maybe the Dimitri Dr Michael piranha hybrid bossfight should have never made the cut.

#kings of fucking subtlety pulling up to a months-in-the-works heist in a pirate ship #i love these games #sly cooper #it's been so long since i've posted an essay post omfg #this one's chunky too like loads to discuss babes #other notes: #it's not like Sly learned how to fly a plane because of Penelope so he could still disable Kaine island's security right? #and also: #it feels like Bentley could have easily found someone other than Panda King but he just did it out of spite like out of pure pettiness #and that's just so deeply rotten like what was even the thought process behind that? #steal the girl that doesn't even know i exist? i'll force you to reconcile with the guy who killed your dad #wtf bentley

[cannibalistic-suggestions]

Rotting, festering on an operating table, under sunlight and moonlight. Exposed.

Lying for days, as flesh begins to pucker and flies gather curiously, kissing muscle tissue and sipping oils from cross-sectional glands. 

Are they opportunistic? Feeding on what’s been left behind? Or did they really care and consume small bits of me out of pity, to show someone is still there, in spite of it all.

I know I’ve done wrong. I almost don’t blame you for wanting vengeance, so you tore out all the terrible things that lied inside for the world to see, to cry out in disgust and leave, leave, leave. Nobody wants anything to do with something like that. Doesn’t matter if we all have the same organs in our uniform human bodies; you DARED put that on display? Your vulnerability is shameful. Revolting.

You want me to repent? I would’ve wanted you to finish mutilating me right there and then, maybe it would’ve sped up my thought process. You said I hurt others, hurt you, so why don’t I deserve to hurt in return? Why didn’t you break my bones in, snap them and shatter them, crush my miserable flesh and skin into a soupy pulp? It’s what I deserve. But after it all, you still had the audacity to say “even those like you should get a second chance.”

I’ve been rendered an open pit of blood: some parts still warm and half-clotted, but others dried to a crispy rust that flakes off pathetically from bumpy scabs. I almost don’t want to be alive anymore, and I hate that you said you’re “above” killing, all of you turning your noses up at the tainted mess I am from the moral high ground you all rent out a place in.

Why couldn’t you have just let me die? For as much as you denounce the actions my hands took, you once had kissed my fingers so gently and admired what I had made. Aren’t you tempted to destroy these tools of evil? Sever my arm and peel off every dermal layer, cut it up into pieces with your incisors and bite into flesh so deeply it splits and frays my veins. Mark me up and make me gone, wouldn’t it be the ultimate punishment?

But you’re not like that. You instead opted to leave me out here to thaw and decay, to succumb to the torturous things I ponder about while I bleed out.

Until scraps of me fall like rotten fruit, and until mold decides to grow over and cover my indecency in a soft coat so everyone forgets, I’ll ferment while I reflect.

Decomposing, because it’s all caught up to me, yet I don’t think I had a stable composition to begin with.

#suggestion #cannibalism #well not really its only vaguely mentioned... not main focus #blood #gore #consensual murder i guess???? who knows #mutilation #body horror #murder #death #violence #lust #dismemberment #woohooo i wasnt doing all that great today but i finally really crashed :/ #you know its a little funny (in a fcked up way maybe) sometimes when im really angry/upset thats when i write stuff for this blog #and it kinda makes me feel better afterwards?? even tho someone would prob think im a serial killer or smthn for being soothed by. #writing abt. violent death and horror and shit like that. idk. i would draw vent art too but i havent had time lately #(plus i dont post my own art here anyways) #anyways abt the thing itself!! its all over the place yeah theres a lot going on here... #dont exactly know what it means or if it actually is anything specific. its vague i was just sorta going for a feeling #ive been dealing w/ a lot; mostly my own fault cause im stupidly rash & impulsive yet simultaneously too afraid to risk anything #mental health has just been. woooooosh. bad. my mood swings man get me off this hell of a roller coaster #if youve made it this far reading the tags: congrats and thank u #tumblr is a lil fucked up place but it feels rather homey. more so than other places; i really miss it sometimes its special

[comfortwriting]

Showered in lust - G.W

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Requested/About: Ron lies to George, telling him that he saw Y/N and Fred kissing, to get back at him for a prank. George gets mad and confronts his girlfriend, Ron realises what he’s done and comes clean to his brother. After patching things up, Y/N and George have shower sex the next morning. 

A/N: I know that showers aren’t mentioned in the books or shown in the movies so I’ve placed a shower room within the dorms lol, forgive me. 

Warnings: 18+, rough unprotected shower sex, squirting, swearing, hair pulling,

“Ron, calm down it was just a prank” you sighed, trying to read. 

Ron, your boyfriends little brother, wasn’t having it at all. He paced up and down the library, his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips forming into a pout. 

“It wasn’t just a prank to me, Y/N. Bloody rotten what he did.” Ron hissed at you.

You shut your book and stared at him, wanting to try and calm him down but not wanting to wind him up even more. 

“Look, how about you-”

“I don’t know why I bother talking to you, you’re just as bad as him” Ron stormed off, his hands buried in his pockets. 

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair and stayed sitting in your chair, opening your book and continued to read.

Fred and George had their elbows deep in plans for their joke shop, writing and drawing up future products in the empty and cosy common room. 

Ron full of rage and an idea tingling at his finger tips, approached his brothers quietly. 

“George, can I have a word” Ron asked, puffing out his chest. 

Fred looked at his younger brother and laughed “spit it out, still shaking in your boots?” 

Ron glared at the more confident twin, flashing a sarcastic grin at him.

“alone” Ron added, causing George to stop his planning. 

George nodded at Fred and stood up, following his younger brother out of the portrait hole out into the stairs. 

“I didn’t want to say this in front of Fred, so keep your voice down, alright?” Ron muttered.

George furrowed his eyebrows for a second “spit it out then”

Ron had to stop himself from breaking out in a grin, he pursed his lips and stared at his shoes. 

“your girlfriend has been snogging Fred, it’s why the two of them are always late to lunch.”

George rolled his eyes “no, she just tutors him-“

“Didn’t look like tutoring to me, mate.” Ron lied.

George couldn’t believe his ears, his heart started to race and he felt his stomach churning, anger running through his system. 

You would tutor Fred during your free period together whilst George had extra potions class, he trusted the two of you and didn’t ever suspect you of doing such a thing behind his back, especially with his twin brother.

He tried to walk back into the common room, wanting nothing more than to confront his twin who already had everything he ever wanted, but Ron stopped him, pulling on his jumper. 

“You won’t get an answer from him, just forget I said anything.” 

George shook his head “If I won’t get an answer from Freddie, I’ll get one from Y/N.”

Ron tried to stop George but failed against his strength, he put his head in his hands and went back to find Fred, realising the damage he had done.

Almost falling asleep on the same book you were staring at for hours, you were woken up by your boyfriend. 

“Is it true then?” he asked, his face full of pain and anger. 

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, staring at George, thinking he was messing with you. 

You blew him off “Not now, please Georgie, I’m tired.” 

George’s eyes widened, he towered over you whilst you sunk back in your chair. “So you’re not denying it”

Your head started to pound at his voice and his questioning, you felt like you were back at home having to play 21 questions with your mum when you had a hangover. 

“Denying what?” you asked, becoming impatient. 

George stepped away from you and grimaced, his eyes tearful and his hands now bunched into fists. 

“I thought you were different” he said quietly “you’re just like my ex.”

George stormed out of the library and you allowed him to walk off, you didn’t chase him, you had no idea what had caused him to treat you like this, especially out of nowhere and to compare you to his unfaithful ex who even you couldn’t stand, hurt like nothing you had ever felt before.

You took a moment to process the possible break up and got to your feet, leaving your books behind you pushed past everyone in the way and ran off to the common room, ignoring Fred and Ron trying to get you to talk and going to your dorm. 

“Are you serious?” Fred scolded, glaring at his younger brother. 

Ron paced around the room “I wasn’t thinking, alright! Bloody hell, what have I done...”

“When George finds out-”

George walked through the portrait hole and glared at his brothers “when I find out what? You going to confess then Freddie?” 

George glared and walked towards his brothers, his eyes red and puffy from the crying. 

Ron sighed and shook his head “I lied” he muttered.

George quickly turned his head, his eyes burning holes into his little brother. 

“What?”

Ron swallowed hard, feeling afraid of what George was going to do to. 

“I made it all up because you were being a git, I told you not to-”

George felt even angrier but the guilt started to pull at his heart strings. 

“So a little prank makes it okay for you to attempt to ruin my relationship?” 

Ron stayed silent refused to look George in the eyes, he stared at his shoes and fiddled with his hands. Fred also refused to look at George, he couldn’t believe his own twin would fall for lies about him so easily, especially when the lies involved you. 

“Where is she?” George asked quietly. 

“Crying in her room, mate.” Fred replied, standing up and walking to his dorm, Ron following behind. 

George swallowed hard and swore under his breath, hurrying upstairs to your dorm.

He tried to open the door but failed as you had locked it, he knocked on the door softly.

“Y/N love, please can I come in?”

You ignored him and continued to cry in your tear stained pillow, hiding under your quilt covers and blankets.

George knocked again “please, I’m so sorry.”

You pulled the covers off you and sat up, knowing if you carried on ignoring George he would break down the door with a spell.

You pulled out your wand, muttering and swishing it across the door frame, the door swung open slowly.

George hurried towards you, tears in his eyes and you could see from his hands that he was shaking. He sat on the bed and sneaked his arm around your waist, his other hand holding yours.

“So you finally know the truth then” you croaked, staring at your bare feet.

George nodded, looking at your tear stained face. “Ron told me.”

You nodded but stayed silent, feeling yourself cry again.

George wiped away your falling tears and kissed your cheek. “I am so sorry, for what I said, for how I acted - I should’ve believed you, I just—“

“You panicked, I get it - but I’m nothing like your ex.”

George remembered what he had said and felt his heart sink “I know and I am so sorry for what I said, it isn’t true and I don’t mean it at all.”

You sighed, not wanting to talk about it anymore, if anything you were relieved that the two of you were still together and he finally realised the truth. 

You moved away from his embrace and turned on your side, laying in your bed. 

“Can we spoon?” you asked him shyly, the hours of studying finally caught up with you. 

George smiled softly, thankful that you forgave him and he climbed into bed with you, he sneaked his arm back around you and pulled you into him, engulfing you in his warmth.

“Goodnight darling.” he said softly “I love you”

“I love you too”

Opening your eyes, you could hear running water, with it being the Christmas season and you were the only girl who didn’t go home for the holidays, you knew it could only be George. 

You stripped off your pyjamas, grabbed your long stripy towel and walked out of your dorm room and into the large steamy shower room. You placed your towel on the rail and turned around, George staring at your body, biting his lip whilst he looked you up and down. 

You mirrored him, biting your lip at the sight of his lean body, the water trickling down his abs, following the water droplets your eyes landed on his already erect dick which he was holding at the base with one hand. 

Walking over to him, you attacked his neck with soft kisses, he held you with his other hand and made you look him in the eyes. Inching in for a kiss, you slammed your lips against his, the two of you making out and allowing his tongue to dance with yours. 

George let go of his dick, using his now free hand to massage one of your breasts, his thumb stroking your nipple. You moaned out against his lips and sucked on his tongue, making him groan. Pulling away from the intense kiss, George looked at you hungrily and ran his long fingers down your now wet body, his fingers brushing against your clit. 

“I want you so bad, George.” you breathed out.

George licked his lips “I want you too baby”

George bent you over and playfully spanked you, he slowly spat on his fingers and pushed them inside of you, George slowly pumped his fingers deeply inside of you before switching with the pumping with the ‘come here’ motion. 

You moaned out and held onto the other towel rail next to you head, pushing the other towel out of the way. You moved backwards towards George, his fingers inching even deeper inside of you, looking back you caught a glimpse of George stroking his cock.

George continued to pleasure you, his fingers stroking and massaging you G-Spot and could feel you getting more aroused with each minute that had gone by. 

“Turn around” George said softly, the warm water still running “I want to see you”

George removed his fingers for a moment, doing as you were told, you turned around and slowly lowered yourself to the floor. George got down on his knees, still tugging on his cock and went back to placing his fingers inside of. 

Letting go of his cock, George took hold of your leg and placed it to rest on his shoulder, his two middle finger and ring finger were inside of you, his index finger and thumb pointing down towards your anus. Hooking his two fingers together, keeping them flexed and locked, George applied pressure with his palm against you vulva, stimulating your clit. 

Relaxing against his magic touch, your moans filled the steamy room as you tightened around his fingers, feeling the need to release the building pressure inside of you. 

“George, that feels so fucking good.” 

George looked up at you and smiled “I won’t stop, love, squirt for me.”

Feeling your pussy contract you finally caught up to your orgasm and gave in, the building pressure dissipating as liquid jetted out of you and onto George’s thighs and the bathroom floor. 

George got even more turned on as you let loose all over him, he withdrew his fingers from inside of you, causing more liquid to spill out and gently moved your now shaking leg off his shoulder. 

Unable to get back on your feet just yet, you got on all fours and bent over in front of George, pushing yourself out against him. 

“Want me to fuck you?” he growled, more warm water beaming down on your lower back. 

You nodded and slowly got to your feet, bending over again and holding onto the rail. “Please George, I deserve it after last night.” you teased.

George stroked his cock and started up at your bum. He stood up and brushed his hard cock against your clit and folds, teasing you.

Pushing himself inside of you slowly, you moaned out, adjusting to his size. George’s hands took hold of your waist, he slowly started to fuck you, allowing you to get used to him.

“Fuck” you moaned out “you don’t need to hold back anymore, George.”

George gripped onto you tighter and started to pound you, his hard cock diving deeper and deeper inside of you, filling you up.

Your loud moans and George’s groans filled the shower room, along with the sounds of him slamming against your behind. George released on of his hands from your hips and reached out, grabbing you by the hair, pulling your head back slightly, your back the tiniest bit straighter.

“You like it rough, do you?” He growled, fucking you harder.

“Yes George!”

“You like the feeling of my hard cock slamming into your tight pussy?”

You moaned out even more, almost in tears of pleasure “Yes!”

George picked up his pace and your clinged onto the rail, your knuckles turning white, you were surprised you the rail was still on the wall.

The noise of George pounding into your wet pussy, his groans and your moans was starting to become too much for the both of you, your walls tightened around his cock and a familiar pressure built up again in your lower stomach; George’s cock couldn’t stop twitching inside of you.

“George, I’m going to cum!” You wailed, feeling yourself release once again.

Your cum coated George’s cock and pushed him closer to his own orgasm, he looked down at the mess you made on his cock and released inside of you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N!”

Slowly pulling out, the two of you tried to catch your breaths in the haze of the shower room, George turned the shower dial, changing the flowing water from warm to cool.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up again” you laughed lightly, the steam slowly clearing up.

George laughed and put his arm around you “I’ll get you cleaned up.”

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #imagines #oneshot #oneshots #fred and george #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

#Salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evi 8 #Resident evil village #Resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #re #re8 #salvatore moreau x reader #Moreau x reader #salvatore Moreau x oc #Moreau x oc #fic #Mine #beauty and her beast #Chapter 7 #The duke #the duke re8

[lilacsnid]

『2』 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝:  — 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

In which way Newt is there for the girl who ends up losing her best friend — Ben, to the maze.

PART 1

A/n: ask permission to use or re-post my work, please do not steal or plagiarize my writing x

Flashbacks/earlier events are in italics :)

©lilacsnid

— AS hard as it was, life in The Glade had to go on. Amongst their mindless chatter, each glader returned back to their allocated jobs, working in whatever daylight was left.

This was always Newt’s favourite part of his days in The Glade. In the few years he had been there, he’d couldn’t help but come to love the little things about the strange habitation. Like the way the sun hits The Glade just before it disappears behind the walls. It’s deep, golden glow bouncing off all the trees, illuminating everything in it’s path. The green field and cool breeze in the air sent Newt into a state of tranquility.

Newt stood still in the middle of The Glade, his brows furrowed and a stern expression plastered across his face as his thoughts began to overcome him. He pursued in observing his fellow gladers and their work until his gaze soon fell onto Frypan, who was preparing dinner. Within minutes, the sun had disappeared behind the stone walls. The strident sound of the dinner bell was soon heard across The Glade, pulling Newt out of his trance. The sound got the attention of all the gladers as they retired from their jobs, slowly making their way to the kitchen from all directions.

From her hut, Y/N heard the bell herself yet she refused to move from her spot on the floor. No one had seen her ever since Ben’s banishment. She felt safe within the refuge of her own space. Where no one could see her red and puffy eyes, where no one could hear her whimpers as the ache in her heart continued to grow. She knew she had the support of all those around her. But with Ben gone, she couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever.

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Tears continued to fall down her rosy cheeks for the rest of the night. The world around her was spinning, her breathing was slow and her vision was blurred. She decided to let her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, but the nauseating feeling in her stomach grew stronger, so she decided against it by immediately shooting her eyes back open.

She told herself that she wasn’t going to leave the confines of her hut. But here she was, laying on the scratchy grass in the middle of The Glade after recklessly drinking her body weight in Gally’s moonshine.

Y/N had never made any wrong decisions in her life while being here in The Glade. But this was definitely her first. She didn’t want her emotions to get the best of her. But she couldn’t help it, how could she? The hollow pain in her heart felt permanent and soul crushing. Her eyes would scan the whole Glade, looking for her best friend. But not long after, her heart drops when she remembers why she can’t find him. Which causes her to take another swing of moonshine from the jar she held tightly in her hand, hoping it would take away her grief or the loss of her best friend. But it did nothing apart from numb her mouth.  

Newt sat on the opposite side of the bonfire from the frail girl, watching the bright orange embers from the fire with Thomas sitting next to him. At that moment in time, she was on his mind. Who was he kidding? She was always on his mind whether he could help it or not. The events of today had struck him hard, along with his fellow gladers.

Pulling Newt out of his trance, Thomas tapped him on the arm. Newt peered towards his friend and watched as he pointed over his shoulder, gesturing for him to follow suit. Newt went along with his actions, turning his head to glance at the girl who was sprawled out on the grass behind them. The sight surprised him, seeing Y/N out in The Glade like this. The boys wanted to get together tonight for a bonfire, knowing it was important that they stuck together, especially at a time like now. Losing another one of their fellow gladers was never easy, it got harder each time. Gally and a few other gladers had approached Y/N’s hut after not seeing her at dinner, desperately trying to aid her out. However, they ended up leaving after being yelled at by the frail girl. Newt had tried to see her himself, but he knew that she needed some time alone to process the earlier events of the day.

Having said that, Newt hadn’t seen her come out of her hut. He hadn’t seen her since Ben’s banishment.

She had somehow managed to sneak out between Newt’s occasional glances towards the direction of her hut, as well as stealing a few jars of Gally’s moonshine in the process. Newt had a sudden urge to see the girl he loved. He missed her, today more than any other.

“I’m gonna go see her,” Newt spoke to Thomas, his voice straining as he stood up from the patch of grass and onto his feet.

Thomas nodded, understanding and glancing back over his shoulder to look at Y/N before looking back up at Newt, “Look after her, okay? We’re all worried about her.”

“I will,” Newt patted his friend on the back before making his way around the fire and limping across the short field of grass to reach Y/N.

As he got closer, the girl remained sprawled out across the grass and unaware of his presence. Soon enough, Newt stood above the girl, staring down at her with furrowed eyebrows. He noticed the almost empty jar of moonshine clutched in her hand, making him realise why she still hadn’t noticed his presence yet. Drinking herself rotten wasn’t like her, everyone in The Glade knew that.

He took a moment to take in her features. The soft but faint glow from the fire a few metres away gave him enough light to see her. Her chest rose and fell slowly with every breath she took, her cheeks were rosy and puffy. He could only just make out the traces of tears that continued to stain her cheeks. Her arms were sprawled out by her sides, the sight making Newt sigh heavily as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The worry started to consume him even more as he noticed her eyes began to flutter open, her gaze meeting his own briefly. Her eyelids were heavy and her eyes were glossed over. He knew she was here, with him. But he also knew that, mentally, she was a million miles away. He wanted to bring her back, he needed to.  

“Darling...” Newt spoke gently, peering down at her with his head tilted to the side, “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Her body slumped further into the green grass as she shrugged her shoulders, struggling greatly to keep her gaze locked onto him. Newt shook his head ever so slightly. As the night grew later, the air had gotten colder. He could notice the girl’s skin and how it was littered in goosebumps with the absence of the bonfire to keep her warm.

He knelt down at her side, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear. She could feel how cold Newt’s fingers were as they traced her skin. She wanted to turn her head to face the boy that she had been pining after, yet her body was too weak.

“How about I take you to bed, yeah?” He requests softly, “It’s starting to get cold out here.”

His words made Y/N whine in protest, shaking her head briskly while making an attempt to try and get up.

“I-I wanna,” Her voice was slurred as she tripped over her words, “I want to stay here.”

“You can’t, love,” Newt sighed, resting a hand on the small of her back to keep her steady as she sat up from her place on the grass. She lifted the jar with a shaky hand up to her lips, intending to finish what was left. However, due to her loose muscle tone, the jar slipped from her hands. The moonshine spilled all over the front of her, seeping through the fabric of her shirt.

“Shit!” She cried loudly as more tears began to well in her eyes and fall quicker down her cheeks.

Newt cursed under his breath, fed up with watching the love of his life trying to lose herself.

“Alright, c’mon,” He stood back onto his feet as he helped her onto her own, taking notice of how unsteady she was.

“No Newt!” She protests as she slaps his hands away, “Just leave me.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, I’m not leaving you here like this. Please, just let me help you. I want to help you.”

For the first time tonight, she tilted her gaze upwards, looking up at Newt. To her surprise, he was already looking down at her, concern written all over his face. Y/N could tell by the way he was frowning and his arms were crossed. All she could do was stare up at the boy. He was beautiful. The very sight of him made her forget about everything worrying her. About her grief, about being trapped, about everything. She mentally curses herself for not telling him just how special he is to her enough. She closed her eyes for a mere second, before nodding her head slowly. Newt watched the tears stream down her cheeks and couldn’t stop the sight from breaking his heart. He bit the inside of his lip, wishing so desperately that he could take her pain away, that he could carry all her burdens so she wouldn’t have to. All he ever wanted was to see her happy, and deep down, he knew he could make her happy if she let him.

“Oh, love,” He whispers as he takes a couple of steps closer towards her.

He doesn’t know what else he could do apart from wrapping her up in his arms and embracing the girl. And he did exactly that. He pulled her in as close as he possibly could, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as hers snaked around his waist. Newt loved having Y/N close to him. While she was in his arms, nothing could hurt her.

She breathed his scent in deeply, appreciating having him in her life. He felt like home, and to him, so did she.

“Let me take care of you,” He whispers into her ear, sending shivers down her spine as he began to run his fingers through her hair.

He felt her nod again against his chest while trying to calm her breathing, “Thank you.”

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“Love,” Newt chuckled, yanking his head back away from Y/N’s grasp, “Let me finish washing your hair, then you can touch me as much as you like.”

The pair had found themselves in the shower together at a ridiculously late time during the night, after Newt had persuaded her off the grass. Spontaneously, Y/N decided that she wanted to have a shower before Newt put her to bed. In a way, she hoped it would sober her up. As well as get rid of the stench of alcohol off her body. After grabbing a clean pair of clothes from her hut, he helped her over towards the showers. 

By this time, all the gladers had gone to bed for the night. So the quiet chatter between the two of them was the only noise that could be heard. 

The girl had managed to strip down to her undergarments, and turn on the water, gasping as soon as it streamed onto her skin. Newt stood a couple of meters away, frowning and watching her sway uneasily as her hand rested against the concrete wall, steadying herself. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across her curves, admiring her in this current state. However, he quickly snapped out of it, not wanting to be disrespectful. He cared about this girl, so much that it scared him sometimes. 

After watching her almost fall, Newt stripped down to his own underwear to her surprise. He stepped under the water, pulling her limp body up against his by her hips. She was grateful for this and she leaned her body weight backwards, relaxing into him almost instantly. 

“Do you need a hand?” Newt asked, whispering into the crook of her neck as he took the sponge from her hands.

She turned her head, resting her ear against his bare chest, being able to hear his heart beat, “Yes, please.”

With pouted lips, Y/N faced towards the concrete wall of the shower. Her back was facing him as the cool water continued to fall over her collarbones. The alcohol still lingered in her system; but she knew where she was, what she was doing and who she was with. And in this moment, she didn’t want to be with anyone else but him. 

“I don’t want to just touch you...” She mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.

Newt struggled to hear her quiet and raspy voice over the sound of the running water. He rushed to rinse the rest of the soapy solution out of her hair before grasping her shoulders gently and turning her around to face him. She glanced up at Newt innocently, her doe eyes making his heart melt while she observed him as he rubbed the sponge across the skin of her chest. 

“What did you say?” Newt questions the girl after a couple of minutes, dropping the sponge and taking a step closer so both of them were under the running water. 

The water that started to trickle down Newt’s milky toned chest made Y/N almost lose her train of thought. 

“I uhm,” The girl started, shaking her head at the affect he always managed to have on her, “I said, I don’t want to just touch you.”

His ears perked up and his face visibly softens as he looks into her eyes in a peculiar way, a way that he has never done before. And she noticed this. 

“Then tell me, love,” He reaches forward, tracing his fingers lightly up her sides, “What do you want from me?”

Y/N gasped softly at Newt’s touch, not expecting it. Her words got caught in the back of her throat as he begins tracing delicate patterns onto the skin of her hips. A few shaky breaths brush past her lips before she answers honestly, “I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted you for so long, Newt. You’re all I think about. I want us to be together. I don’t want to live the rest of my life without you by my side.”

Her words were like music to his ears. They soothed all the worry and doubt that had been consuming him for so long. Now, he could finally hear the truth he had always hoped for. Newt cautiously lifts his hands, cupping Y/N’s cheeks and maintaining a locked gaze with her. 

“Can I kiss you?” Newt questions, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Please?” He adds shortly after, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. 

She copies Newt’s actions from earlier, running her fingers along his sides and wrapping her arms around his waist. The warmth of his torso enveloping her instantaneously. 

“Yes,” she breaths out, waiting for what could happen next. 

Newt’s gaze locked onto her lips for a brief moment, then slowly making it’s way back up to her eyes. The tension soon became too much, and within seconds, Newt wasted no time in pressing his lips against hers. Due to the chilly air surrounding them, his lips felt cold against hers. But it didn’t bother her, the feeling was quite addictive. 

Seconds became minutes and the water from the shower continued to grow cold, but it didn’t stop either of their actions. Her hands ended up running through his damp and tousled locks, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. Newt’s hands traveled down to her waist, then up her back. He repeated this action several times as they continued to kiss under the moonlight. The soap he had used still stuck to her skin, making his hands glide easily as they ran over her skin. Their kisses began to grow rougher and more desperate as they continued to pull each other closer. 

Newt was the first to lean away; his eyes opened to be met with her own. For a brief moment, the pair were locked in a trance with one another, just staring into each others eyes. Both of their lips were pink and plump from their continuous interlocking. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Newt ushered, burying his head into the crook of her neck, beginning to trail soft kisses against her shoulder.  

For the first time in a while, Y/N couldn’t contain the smile on her face as those words left his lips. 

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me feel to hear you say that,” She says, pulling Newt back up to kiss him, “I love you more than anything.”

He planted a few more kisses to her lips, chaste pecks filled with desire and emotion. Soon his kisses seeped back into the skin of her neck once again, his hand reached up slowly to fumble with the wet material of her bra strap. He slipped the material off her shoulder, dipping his head down to kiss over the top of her breasts. The damp material of the strap felt heavy against her skin as his fingers were tangled in it. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Newt whispered, his breath feeling warm against her skin.  

“I love you,” she repeats, her eyes watching him hungrily as he kisses her chest, his hands wandering up the the curves of her breasts, squeezing gently. 

Newt grins at her words, tracing his fingers over the lacy material of her bra, “I’ll never love anyone else but you.”

And with this, their lips met again. 

#tmr newt #the maze runner #tmr imagine #newt x reader #tmr newt imagine #tmr newt x reader #newt #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr fandom #thomas brodie sangster #newtmas #tmr fluff #tmr newt fanfiction #tmr newt x y/n #tbs imagine #thomas sangster #tmr fanfiction #the glade #tmr imagines #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tmr smut #thomas sangster imagine #dylan obrien #kaya scoledario #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr alby #tmr chuck #tmr teresa

[straighttohellbuddy]

📓 !!

Okay im so excited please know I think about How The Light Gets In's world every day still, and so anyways here is a side story I want to write but there's a lot of set up regarding the reader and eef becoming friends again. For context, they were incredibly close around 2014-2017, but people were getting creepy and invasive and demanding about their friendship (think 2012 toxic side of the Phandom, if that makes sense), and a lot of the reader's relationships were strained at that time because while they had been successful before, they were absolutely blowing up after their first album released and they became far more mainstream. They felt like they were bothering the people they had become closest to, both because they're worried that they're a bother, and because gossip rags and paps would harrass their friends looking for a scoop, and so they ended up just completely cutting off contact without warning one day right before they went on their first tour. the start of HTLGI is about 3 years since they'd been in proper contact with any of the creators they were close to at that time.

DON'T LOOK AT ME on their 2017 ep Hyperfocus was a more general song in response to everything that had been happening in their life around that time, with a focus on how they stop associating with anyone for a while, without outright addressing it, but on their latest album n o s t a l g i a, read at 5am ft. Troye was specifically written at the start of quarantine, when the reader was getting back into YouTube, about their feelings regarding how their friendship with ethan ended, as they spent a lot of this time looking back of their YouTube career, and he was the person they were closest to for a very long time, before they iced everyone out.

OKAY SO THERES MORE OF THE BACKGROUND OF THE WHOLE FIC AND THE READER BUT

Werewolf Ethan & Mark. I'm sorry I don't make the rules. They have golden retriever energy you cannot change my mind. But also because this is the HTLGI you know that supernatural characteristics are able to be activated rather than just triggered by the full moon. What I'm trying to say is since this is set in the year of Unus Annus, they film a video together that's like, you know that show where a person has to try and outwit a professional tracker? Except its the reader being tracked by two werewolves at night in a national park. Reader is wearing some sort of night vision camera on themselves so whenever it cuts to them the audience can't actually see how they're using their powers, if that makes sense.

Also the reader agreed to this knowing it would probably be when they ended up telling Mark and Ethan about them being a demon.

Video is titled Hunting Down An Old Friend

A few Moments that the boys edit out:

The reader using their stupidly sharp prehensile tail to swing from tree branches, though they leave in shots where the reader's tail can't be seen.

Knowing that with the werewolves having advanced hearing, the reader would give themselves away by talking to the camera, they take a few minutes having flown up to a high tree branch, to pull out a notebook and do a little sketch of how Mark and Ethan appear in their Demon True Sight, and holding it up to their camera.

Werewolves being one of the animals who can kind of sense demons without being able to identify them, essentially like dogs can sense natural disasters and are often good judges of character, this can be heightened on command for werewolves. There's about 15 minutes of footage cut out of the boys discussing or mentioning how this place has awful vibes and that they should have done this during the day. It gets worse as they get closer to the reader, who didn't realise that the boys hadn't thought to ever use that particular power around them before.

("I say this with so much love and appreciation for you, dude," Ethan yells, looking up at you from the base of the tree they'd finally found you in, "but I- this is making me anxious I feel like something terrible's gonna happen, and we should probably get out of here and film the rest of the video back at Mark's." And behind him, Mark's nodding, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes scanning the trees for whatever was most likely the cause of this terrible impending doom.

Oh. It's you. And they don't know its you.

Now or never, you suppose.

"Can you cut the cameras for a second? You're going to be fine I promise," you called back, and though they obligingly did, they both seemed antsy. You cleared your throat awkwardly, "that... that terrible feeling, that's not the park or anything in it- well I mean, it is, but it's just- it's me."

and later

"Dude your wings smell like rotten eggs."

"To YOU Ethan! And no they don't!"

"If it makes you feel better they smell like burning and rotten eggs."

"It does not."

(for reference, when enhancing their sense of smell werewolves can kind of distinguish various supernatural creatures, or parts of supernatural creatures. Some creatures have an inherent scent, but some, like angels and demons, only have distinct scents when they've activated certain attributesor abilities; demon wings smell like fire and brimstone, which unfortunately means burning and rotten eggs. I like to think angels wings are like the love potion in Harry Potter that smells like the things you love the most. Mark and Ethan usually don't enhance it around each other because they smell like wet dog to the other)

This gets about 2k notes on tumblr. The reader likes it:

Ethan finally finding Y/N at the end of Hunting Down An Old Friend (2020) Colourised.

Other things to note regarding all this:

It takes a while to rebuild their friendship to the point where they're comfortable enough to be on camera together (eef and reader specifically).

However, the Unus Annus video is the first thing they properly do together, and the reader, in an effort to connect more and make up for the past, will join in multiplayer gaming streams if asked.

Impromptu duet in proximity Among Us of Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy, which has their respective chats and fandoms losing their minds, except it stops abruptly after the first chorus as they both remember the opening lines of the second verse (make it easy, say I never mattered -- those lyrics hit a little too close to home)

But also the reader convinces him to join him for a proper cover in like, February of 2021, and it's something deeply sappy (I'm thinking Bon Iver by mxmtoon because I think its sweet and fits them well)

Also Ethan being reminded that the reader is kind of a much bigger deal than when they'd been friends before.

designed to hurt (touch me) from their ep Working On It is nominated for a Grammy for Track of the Year, and n o s t a l g i a wins Best Pop Album (because it's my fic and I said so)

FIRST OF ALL designed to hurt (touch me) is a beautifully produced song about Corpse (which people do not know) and the title itself is literally making fun of something he said IMAGINE his reaction to it being Grammy Nominated 😂😂😂 God he'd be proud but lowkey fuming, meanwhile the moment the nominations are announced the reader tweets:

me: here is an album where I processed my entire world view including heartfelt explorations of the trauma of existing and oversharing in the public eye from a young age without the traditional barrier between audience and entertainer

the grammys: that's cute BUT you know the song you wrote to bully your boyfriend and also be horny on main for him before you guys were even dating? THAT deserves its own recognition.

meanwhile Ethan's like..... this is the same person who I filmed a video with playing cards against humanity, and you laughed so hard you almost threw up. I am very proud but deeply confused.

The Hot Meme of Late April 2021 is "2 time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" with a gif, still, or quote from the reader where they're just being an absolute chaos gremlin.

Of course we have "If I bleached my asshole for charity I'd do it tastefully."

2 Time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N speaking to their actual boyfriend in the year of our lord 2020: You are being executed for Clown Crimes.

ethan posts a short video to twitter simply of his screen where he's renaming a folder from "Never Before Seen Images of Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" simply changing it to 2 time Artist. The reader responds specifically to his tweet with a video of themselves asking Google how to hard reset someone else's computer.

So many screenshots from old videos surface that week.

I miss this world. Sorry this is rambly!!

#shut ur pretty mouth #how the light gets in #corpse husband x reader #your local homosexual with no chill #htlgi

[angstyaches]

I’ve Been Away Pt. 1

CW: angst, crying, nausea/indigestion caused by stress, anxiety. (But there’s a bit of banter at the end to round it out.)

Felix waited across the street in a rented car, waiting for Elliott to leave the house.

He and Ryan usually went out to sharpen their combat skills (at least, that was how they phrased “trying to beat the crap out of one another”) on Sunday evenings, and knowing Elliott, he wouldn’t want Ryan to see how Felix’s absence was affecting him. If it was affecting him, Felix corrected himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Maybe Elliott was doing fine without him. Maybe he was better off. It didn’t really bear thinking about.

Felix gasped as the front door opened and Ryan walked out, heading straight for her car. Elliott followed, his steps a lot slower and more deliberate than usual. Felix folded his arms across the top of the steering wheel and ducked his head almost the whole way behind them, a sinking feeling in his belly. He’d bought a hoodie to cover up his mint hair, abandoned his own car at the hotel in favour of a less-recognisable one, and had even doused himself in cheap cologne on the off-chance that Elliott or Ryan would smell him from across the street.

He needn’t have worried, it seemed, since neither of them even glanced in his direction. Felix realised with a pang of despair that he was disappointed. If Elliott had been AWOL, Felix was sure he’d be glancing up and down every street and around every corner in the hopes of sighting him. He should have been happy that his plans to remain incognito had been successful, yet he wanted to cry.

Come on, Felix, don’t be a baby, he told himself. He’d come here for a reason, and things were going better than expected. He got out of the car as soon as Ryan’s disappeared from the street, taking Elliott away with it. Felix tried to ignore the pain in his heart.

He crossed the street, he realised afterwards, without even looking both ways first. His hands trembled as he took out his keys and let himself inside, the smell of lavender and floor cleaner scooping him up. This had been the first house that had ever really felt like home, but now it seemed to greet him with a glare, a side-eye. He shuddered and hurried upstairs, anxious to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Elliott had always thought Felix was crazy for having a safe in their bedroom wardrobe, complete with a code. Elliott thought a lot of things Felix did were crazy. Maybe I am crazy, Felix thought as he twisted the dial to input the code – the date of the day he’d run away from home; the first time. After all, he’d put all of his old IDs in here for a reason, and now here he was, dragging it all out.

A burning pain made itself known in the pit of his stomach as he dragged out the papers, his old passport, a small pile of newspaper clippings he had always meant to glue into a scrapbook but hadn’t. A watch slid out, landing on the wooden floor. Felix hadn’t seen in almost a decade. He swallowed a bitter mouthful of spit and shoved the watch back inside, not really concerned about scratch it in the process.

He eyed Elliott’s bedside locker as he stood up after locking the safe, clutching his documents to his chest. If he’d been in a rom-com, he would have left a little note to indicate to Elliott that he’d been there, and that he still loved him and just needed a little time. But this was real life, and Elliott would find precisely nothing romantic or comedic in a gesture like that.

So instead, Felix bolted back to the car.

He was shaking as he sank back into the driver’s seat of the car, resting his pile of papers in his lap. His old passport lay on top, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He wasn’t even sure if he would need any of this stuff, but if he was going to take this leap, he was going to be prepared for whatever they might want from him. He might have to fight to identify himself.

He might have to fight to make her remember.

He quickly dropped everything into the empty glove compartment, wrinkling his nose at the fresh wave of not-new-but-perfumed-to-seem-new car smell that came wafting out. A belch gurgled up his chest and he covered his mouth as it escaped. The last thing he’d eaten had been a sad sandwich from a petrol station, plus a tiny bit of the blood he’d been rationing himself, and the stress had made sure it hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

Maybe he should have picked up more blood when he’d been inside, but there was no way he could think about that without feeling like it would be stealing.

He felt sick. He was tired.

And the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, especially with such a long drive ahead of him.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he whispered to himself, watching the door of the townhouse swing open across the street. He hadn’t thought about Shayne, who must have only gotten back from Charlie’s a few days ago. Felix whipped up his hood and sank a bit in his seat, thinking he wouldn’t be seen, but from peering out over the steering wheel, he got the feeling that Shayne already knew it was him.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Crap,” Felix hissed, scrambling to get the key in the ignition. He jumped in his seat as Shayne slammed both hands down on the front of the car.

“Stop, it’s a rental!” Felix squealed.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Look, I know it looks bad –”

“Get out of the car!”

Felix inhaled deeply, staring down the hollow brown eyes that pinned him from outside the windshield. He slowly started to shake his head, even though his stomach felt like it was about to crawl up his throat.

“N-no.”

“Do you know what this is doing to Elliott?”

“No!” Felix yelled, covering his face with both hands. “No, I don’t, Shayne, but you don’t need to tell me, because I already hate myself enough! Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than the way it is in my head…”

He felt like he was being choked. His forehead made the horn honk gently as he let it fall against the wheel. His chest hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, it felt like whatever was left in there was rotten and crumbling and turned black with self-hatred. He’d known things were bad - he’d cried himself to sleep every night since he’d left - but right then, it felt like death itself was pressing in around him.

He jumped, the pain sharpening in his chest, at the sound of the passenger side door opening. The car bounced on its axis with the force of Shayne climbing in.

“I’m sorry!” Felix sobbed, not sure what he was actually expecting Shayne to do to him. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean for it to be like this, I just… there’s some stuff I have to do. It’s really, really important…”

“Is it?” Shayne asked sharply.

“Yes.”

Felix jumped again as Shayne pulled the door shut, hard.

“Alright.” Shayne shrugged, reaching for the seatbelt for the passenger seat. “You’re going to have to buy me more clothes if this takes longer than a day.”

Felix’s jaw dropped, the tears sliding down his face even as the sobs relented. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, and absolutely no singing.”

“That just seems… unreasonable,” Felix mumbled.

“And!” Shayne reached across to lightly slap Felix’s arm with the back of his hand. “We’re calling Elliott later. Both of us. Alright?”

Felix licked his lips, feeling both intimidated and energised by the glare he was receiving from his cousin. “Okay… sure.”

Shayne sank a bit lower in his seat and propped his head against the door. Felix took a deep breath, focusing on the full feeling in his lungs for a moment before letting himself deflate again. His hands felt a bit steadier when he started the ignition this time. The knot in his chest was still there but it felt a little lighter, and the sting of the indigestion didn’t creep quite so high.

“And the ‘no singing’ rule,” he said, “is that absolutely locked-in, or is there a bit of wiggle room on that…?”

“You break that rule, and I’m grabbing the steering wheel and wiggling us into oncoming traffic.”

#Swallow the World #Thicker than Blood #Stw Felix #Stw Shayne #Felix's story #angst fic #drama fic #angst #indigestion #plot

[sillyandquiteawkward]

little father and bayley fic under the cut bc i forgot my ao3 password and im lazy. hope you enjoy

Food supplements and leafy greens sat on Doctor Bayley's plate, which he picked at distastefully. The Director of the Institute, Father, sat across from him, making decent headway with his own meal.

"I don't think I can ever learn to enjoy the food supplements. This flavor isn’t palatable either," Bayley curtly complained with a heavy sigh. He felt Father's lingering judgement upon him for refusing most of his meal again, without even having to look up. He poked at the slab of supplement with the tines of his fork. Even the various flavors the Institute boasted of supplements couldn't save Bayley from the pastes, powders, and bars turning his stomach. He was trying his best to find a flavor he could stand, but to Bayley, even mirelurk was easier to eat. At least the fresh vegetables were decent, if not simply boiled or baked if cooked at all. "I'd kill for some real meat on your menu."

"Come now, Doctor, we have little need to slaughter irradiated animals for food in this day and age. BioScience has developed the perfect meal dozens of times over, consisting of the exact amount of daily nutrients a man like yourself needs," Father replies coolly. Bayley glared at the older man. Of course he'd like them -- he grew up on the damn things. Well, Bayley grew up on real food!

"Designed a food that doesn't even fill your stomach," he mumbled behind his mug as he took a sip. Now to their credit, this was something Bayley actually liked. The coffee wasn't stale 200 year old beans and grounds. My god, they perfected the damn synthetic coffee and Bayley couldn't imagine going back.

Father confidently smirked, passing smoothly over Bayley's remark with a gentle shake of his head. "You poor surface dwellers, eating any and all the food you can scrounge to stave off hunger. I'm glad we were able to save you from that life. Give it time, Doctor. Your stomach will re-adjust to your new diet."

Bayley scoffed dismissively and set his fork down to keep nursing his coffee. Father took his own sip of tea. The pair fell into a dip of silence, accompanied by the gentle clink of silverware against plate as Father continued to finish off his lunch. Behind them a few tables over, there was a slight chatter from another pair of scientists in the cafeteria. Licking a crumb of food supplement left on the edge of his mug with a grimace, Bayley listened to their distant hushed conversation. Sounded like gossip about another scientist’s love affair... Hard to believe that even the “perfect” Institute could be filled with, what was ultimately, humans.

Father spoke up after a minute of Bayley straining to eavesdrop, "Why don't you tell me about yourself, Doctor?"

"...Why?" Bayley eyed Father suspiciously. "Don't you already know all about me? Isn't that why I'm here?"

Father took a warm sip of his mug before continuing. "I know about your reputation, or lack thereof." Bayley all but growled at the dig. "And I know you care deeply for the progress of humanity, as do I, albeit a tad misguided. You’re a highly intelligent man, Doctor, but I'm afraid I don't know about you, personally. I'd like to remedy that."

What could Bayley tell Father about? Why should he? Oh, but he loved to talk about himself... Bayley leaned back in his chair with folded hands in his lap, food left forgotten on his plate. "What is there to say? I'm a man married to his work, who likes breathing fresh air. On the surface."

“What got you into studying radiation?” Bayley noticed Father missed his complaint, or at least was ignoring it. “Surely you didn’t set out from the start on such a dangerous fascination.” Father had a look of curiosity on his face that seemed genuine to Bayley, although he still had suspicions this had ulterior motives.

“It was almost from the beginning actually. As I studied medicine in my youth, traveling along the Wasteland, I have to admit,” Bayley paused to consider his wording. “I had a distinct admiration of the ghoul’s ability to utilize radiation to build themself anew. The destructive power of radiation makes using it dangerous and even deadly, true, but I imagined a world where we could manipulate the human body to replicate how a ghoul’s body uses the gamma particles destructive properties to heal themselves, sans the ghoulification process of course.” Okay, so maybe he planned to be cagey, but Father just had to ask him about the thing he’s devoted his entire life to. Sorry, he’s gonna get excited. “I’d seen first hand ghouls reattach long lost limbs to themselves and remain functional, ferals even being brought back to life by glowing ones’ radiation bursts, and the stories of people growing functional limbs from radiation exposure caught my particular attention at a young age.”

“Fascinating things ghouls are, although their rotten brains and appearance are less than desirable. If anything their longevity is what catches my attention. Living over hundreds of years...” Father drifts off, looking past Bayley. “Imagine what one could achieve with that extra time.”

“Living forever doesn’t matter if you aren’t healthy,” Bayley corrected. “What’s the point of living if you are just suffering every day. I’m focusing myself to helping people in this day and age, instead of chasing functional immortality.”

“Maybe that’s the difference between us,” Father sighs. “Everything I do is for tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow. Humanity's future lies in our successor’s hands. It’s a shame we cannot directly work with our future generations to combine our knowledge. All we can do is help prepare them for when we are gone.”

“Eventually people in charge need to step down and let the fresh ideas in, otherwise we’ll collectively stagnate. We are stubborn creatures who hate change, snuffing out ideas that contradict our own. If someone like you lived forever, he’d never give up the reins.”

“I suppose you’d do the same,” Father states blandly, eyes half-lidded. “As you said, we are stubborn creatures.”

Bayley sputters, sitting back up in his chair. “No, I am the innovator in this scenario! I’ve been ostracized for my ideas, kicked out and shunned. No one sees my potential to change the world!”

“And in your age, have you begun to prepare an heir to your scientific knowledge, Doctor? Or do you think you can finish this chronicle yourself, with the few years left in your life?”

“I-I have to prove myself first! No one trusts my work because they don’t see the proof -- which I was working on when you so kindly stole me away from my clinic and subjects!” Bayley hissed, gripping the edge of the table.

Unphased, Father folded his hands on the table. “I trust your work, Doctor Bayley. I’ve seen your studies, seen what you can do when you are truly devoted to a cause. This is why I wanted you with us at the Institute. I want you to share your knowledge to us, so that we may pass it to the future with us. Let us help you ensure your legacy. We have the same goals, and we even have similar methods if you can believe it. Imagine what we can do together when we combine our knowledge, for humanity’s sake.”

Bayley raised an eyebrow at that. “Similar goals perhaps, but I wont be a part of the kidnapping and killing of Commonwealth citizens. You Institute folk are outrageously barbaric for all your self-righteousness.”

“We simply know how to weigh the importance of breaking a few eggs for the omelette. You too understand this principle closely, don’t you?”

Bayley grimaced flatly. “You truly know how to charm a man to your side.” This conversation was over if Bayley had anything to say about it, which he did. He gulped from his mug, keeping it up to his mouth as he turned physically away from Father. He’ll finish this and go back to his room. Trapped in the Institute with these madmen, forced to go along with things else suffer the same fate as the hundreds of others taken to the Institute. And Father had the gall to act like they were the same, that Bayley could excuse innocents murdered for “science.” He slammed the mug back onto the table.

“I hope you’ll understand one day soon, Doctor. I really do.” Father sighed, closing his eyes in defeat as Bayley stood up.

“I don’t want to understand,” Bayley said as he stormed past Father back to the concourse.

It was too much to think about, if Bayley was being honest with himself. He grit his teeth climbing the stairs, tense. A scientist descending the stairs stood to the side as Bayley passed, clearly wanting to give the angry man some space and avoid any conflict. Good. If he was to stay here, people should give way for him. Now if only Father was like that. He passed a pair of expressionless generation two synth guards eyeing their laser weapons as he ascended the next flight.

God, he was annoyed. Of course Father had to go ruin another meal together talking nonsense of Bayley hurting others. He tried his best not to hurt his subjects -- everyone was willing and importantly, no one had died under his care! Sick perhaps in the early days... but it wasn’t death! Bayley couldn’t stand the idea his great idea could possibly kill others when it was supposed to be helping them. If he was ever responsible for someone’s death...

Bayley slid open the automatic door to his small, barren room. It was just a simple bed and desk, which was plenty for Bayley, but he wished he had his trinkets and such if he was going to be living here until the day he dies. He collapsed onto the stiff bed, face pressing against the cool pillow. He missed his couch. He missed his clinic. Bayley even considered he missed being annoyed by Jonathan and Jay’s antics. Jay would try his best to cheer him out of this spiraling train of thought, and Jon would know plenty of things to distract him with.

If he was ever responsible for their deaths, Bayley considered he’d quit on the spot. He’d probably become deeply depressed until he really did just curl up and die, however fast it came after. All his life’s work to save humanity, and he’d killed the only people who trusted him most to do so.

But the truly terrible part of him hidden away deep in his heart wondered that if someone was to die as a result of his work, perhaps even if he wasn’t working willingly with the Institute, that he'd simply wouldn’t care.

#doc bayley #father #shaun #silly art tag

[ask-the-riders]

Liar, Liar

Another flashback sorta thing that I decided to write as a way to explore some different relationship dynamics :P

There's some recently introduced characters (Cobalt and Diamondback), one you already know and love (Othni), and an older one that I decided to revive (Valence), because why not

I'm gonna include some trigger warnings for a little blood, super light gore (if you wanna even call it that), some violence, and implied past abuse

"Does she know, Val?"

Valence ran a hand over his skull and let out a deep sigh, his magenta swirled eye lights constricted in fear as he paced around his living room. Avoiding looking at his companion as much as possible, he sputtered, "I-I don't think so. I wasn't being careless again, I swear!" Leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, the demon arched a single brow, "For our sake, I hope you're telling the truth." He paused, vanishing into thin air and making the skeleton yelp and nearly stumble backwards as he reappeared, blocking his path. Backing Valence into a corner and making sure all possible escape routes were blocked, the demon leaned closer, his vibrant blue eyes becoming brighter as he lowered his voice, "For your sake, I hope you're telling me the truth. If you're lying to me again, I'll find out." 

The skeleton stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, his breathing momentarily coming to a halt. Remembering the last time the demon had caught him telling a lie, he nodded, hoping to convey that he understood. Feeling satisfied, the demon hummed, taking a step back as he continued watching his host. It was a while ago that the two of them had made that contract, and while they did occasionally bicker, they were normally on the same wavelength with one another. Val's gaze flickered back toward his kitchen, and as he lowered it to the tile floor, he took in the red liquid that had begun pooling in the spaces between the individual tiles. Part of an arm laid on the floor in the middle of the puddle, and a shape resembling a handprint stained his shirt, the bright crimson a stark contrast against the cream colored fabric. He had another mess to clean up now, and this time, he hadn't even been the one that'd made it.

Turning his back to the demon, he let out a deep breath and slipped into the kitchen, squatting in front of the sink and opening a set of wooden drawers, digging through various cleaning supplies. His companion quietly followed him, completely uncaring as he stepped in the pool of blood and crossed the kitchen, leaving behind a short trail of footprints. Seeing that Othni was, once again, trying to aggravate him, Val frowned, his brow bones becoming knit, "Do you mind? I'm trying to clean here." The demon stole a glance in his direction, a wide, almost manic smile slowly stretching across his face and putting his unnaturally sharp teeth on display, "Oh, I'm not in your way, am I? How rude of me." 

Val let out a soft, irritated growl in response, and Othni snorted in amusement, shaking his head. As Val returned to trying to ignore him, he dragged his clawed fingers over the surface of the kitchen table, leaving deep scratches in the wood. Hearing the sound, the skeleton finally shifted his attention back to Othni, immediately scowling as he took notice of the damage that was being done to his table. Careful not to step in the blood, he gave Othni a light shove and hissed, "Stop it, Othni. Can't you see that this is pointless? We made that deal in order to help each other, and you decide to damage my belongings because I'm not paying attention to you?" Othni arched an eyebrow again, quietly daring the skeleton to keep talking. With his mind clouded by anger and frustration, Val did just that, practically sneering at Othni, "You're no better than a spoiled child, I swear." 

An image flickered in Othni's mind of a middle aged human with dark, curly locks, scowling at him and shouting words that he couldn't quite make out. As the human lifted a hand and prepared to strike him, Othni's locks of hair that resembled the rounded ears of a big cat laid back flat against his head and he was on Val in an instant, one hand immediately seeking out his neck vertebrae. Feeling himself be lifted up off of the ground and slammed into a wall hard enough to cause a small crack to form in the back of his head, Valence let out a pained and startled yelp, instinctively trying to free himself from Othni's grip. The demon's eyes burned into him as he moved closer, only inches away from Val's face as he growled lowly, "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, monster. If you even so much as think about speaking to me like that again, I'll-"

He was cut off as someone knocked on his front door and called out, "Hey Bandersnatch, are you in there?" Almost as quickly as he'd lifted Val up off of the floor, the demon set him down again and released his neck. His expression had completely shifted, no longer holding even a trace of anger, and he offered another sharp toothed grin to Val, tilting his head and murmuring, "Answer it, Valence. Go see what he wants." The skeleton hesitated, and then upon seeing that Othni had become docile again, he darted to a coat rack, nearly tearing a jacket off of it's peg and tugging it on, zipping it up just enough to hide the handprint that stained his shirt. The demon continued watching him, slinking back into the shadows as Valence made a beeline for the front door and answered it.

Making a face at the other male skeleton that stared back at him, he cleared his throat, "Oh. Hello there, Cobalt. How can I help you?" The skeleton in question eyed him for a moment, "Where were you a couple nights ago, at about this time?" Val blinked in confusion, "...I was here, preparing a dish for Banquet. Why do you care about my whereabouts all of a sudden?" Cobalt's gaze hardened and he stuffed a hand into one of his pockets, "No, you weren't. Try again." Val stared at him, clearly at a loss, "Would you just speak plainly, please? I have a lot on my mind and the last thing I want to do is play this stupid guessing game with you." The shorter of the two continued to watch him, his expression turning suspicious, "Fine. According to Glo, she bumped into you at the store. Said you had a big bag of cat food in your arms, which is odd, even for you. Considering that you don't have any cats, and all." 

Valence was frozen for a moment, having been caught off guard. Processing what the other had just said, he regarded him with clear disbelief, "So you think I'm lying about where I was? How do you know Glo wasn't the one lying? Don't tell me that you believe every word that leaves her mouth." Cobalt was unphased, pressing on just as confidently as before, "I take everything she says with a grain of salt. When she does lie, it's usually in a joking manner over something small and unimportant. Seeing you at the store would be a little too random for her to lie about, I think. You, however..." The guard paused, leaning a bit closer and inhaling deeply, "You could lie through your teeth, right here and now, simply for the hell of it. And then there's that disgusting stench you bring everywhere with you." 

The taller skeleton furrowed his brow bones, "Since you're so keen on sniffing me like some kind of dog, tell me, Cobalt. What stench do I have, hm? These clothes just came out of the dryer, and I took a shower as soon as I got home a little while ago." Cobalt frowned, narrowing his sockets at the other monster, "You reek of death... To be a little more specific, in case you don't understand that, there's always the faint scent of human blood wafting off of you. Sometimes when you start acting even weirder than normal, there's this gross, rotten fruit kind of smell there, too. Care to explain why you smell like blood?" Valence raised a single brow bone, "I stopped by that new meat place in town and picked up some beef. The butcher was a human, so maybe he cut himself or something while he was working." The guard scowled at him, his tone gaining a much sharper edge than before, "Wrong again. That's a monster shop, run only by monsters, not by humans. And also, cow blood is completely different from human blood. I've smelled both before, and they're really easy to tell apart." 

Valence unconsciously took a step back, his gaze darkening as he smirked, his own tone becoming malicious, "Because you've killed countless humans in the war, I know. Did you keep track of how many potentially innocent lives you took, or were you running solely off of mindless bloodlust?" Cobalt was momentarily taken aback, glancing away from Val, "...If it was up to me, I wouldn't have killed any of them. That's not the kind of guy I am." Valence shook his head, choosing to mock the soldier, "Oh, I know. The big bad, evil princess of darkness made you do it, didn't she? How truly awful of her. Does Chimera know what you've done?" Upon hearing his friend's name, Cobalt squared his shoulders and made a sound in confirmation, "Yeah, she knows. I make it a point not to keep secrets from her." 

The taller skeleton reached out, his grin condescending as he patted Cobalt's head and cooed, "Awe, how thoughtful of you. I'm glad you're so open with her!" Cobalt growled and slapped his hand away, glaring up at him. As the scent of rotting fruit began to waft out of the house, he hissed, "Listen, Val. You might've gone on a few dates with her, and yeah, she likes you, but I want you to stay away from her. I want you to stay away, and I want you gone." Valence smirked again, "And what'll you do if I stay? Are you going to run that blade of yours through my body and kill me like you did to those humans?" Cobalt faltered, and when words failed him, he summoned his sword and drew it, trying to maintain at least the appearance of being confident, "If that's what it takes to keep you away from Chimera, then yeah, I will. Something about you is off, and every time you're around, all the red flags immediately go up. I don't trust you, not even a little bit. I wouldn't trust you to take care of another person, let alone Chimera. She deserves so much better than lying, manipulative, scheming bastards like you." 

Another unseen person made a sound in agreement, "For once, I believe you're right. She does deserve better." Val jerked in surprise, momentarily freezing as a set of glowing green eyes peered at him from the shadows under a tree that sat in his yard. As the demon in the shadows presented himself, he crossed his arms over his chest, calmly approaching the two skeletons. As he drew nearer and nearer, Cobalt made a face, noticing the way the scent of rotting fruit began to rapidly fade away. Recognizing the demon almost immediately, Val scoffed, "Oh, please. The social reject is trying to tell me to stay away from Chimera now, too? Listen, buddy. This has nothing to do with you. It'd be in your best interest if you minded your own business." Diamondback tilted his head, "On the contrary, this has everything to do with me. You can either be a good little brat and get lost, or I'll have to teach you how to listen better. Which will it be?" Valence let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eye lights, "I'm not going anywhere, ok Gramps? This is my house, and this is where I live. Nothing is gonna change that. Not when I've already settled in so well." Without warning, Diamondback warped through the space between them, backing Val further into his house.

As Val tried to slam his front door shut, one of the demon's hands caught it and he hummed, "Please don't make this difficult. I'm really not in the mood to be doing this right now." Struggling with the door and quickly noticing how much stronger the demon was than him, Valence panicked and snapped, "Then why bother?! Just go home already!" Diamondback's body warped beneath the door easily in the form of a shadow, and before Val had any time to process what was happening, a hand gripped the front of his shirt, forcibly dragging him closer. Making sure to expose his fangs as he spoke, Diamondback hissed, "I don't appreciate you taking that tone with me, Valence. Bark one more order at me, and I'll be taking your jaw. Now, you already heard me when I told you to leave, correct?" 

The skeleton nodded, and Diamondback continued, "Good. I have another thing I'd like you to do for me, if you'd be so kind." Val nodded his head, his voice much softer than he would've liked, "Y-Yeah, sure. What is it?" Diamondback's bored, slightly annoyed expression shifted, a knowing look in his eyes as he offered Val a small smirk, flashing his fangs at him again, "Tell Othni that he's not very good at hiding. Even if I can't see him, I can smell him, and he smells like shit."

#writing #tw blood #tw light gore #tw mild violence #tw implied abuse #diamondback.exe #othni.exe #cobalt.exe #valence bandersnatch #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au

[mxrstar]

just a very emotional post about why I like Jonny’s writing so much [I touched on this subject in another post already, but imo this is so overwhelmingly the reason why tma works as a story that I am going to repeat it]

Jon is a person. deep down and above all he is a person, with his personality and memories and flaws. because his is only rotten luck, he can be any of us. he is just any of us. tma is not a story about the a wise mage who unfolds the secret of the universe and gets destroyed in the process, this is a story about a butterfly who flaps her wings wrong once and ends up “causing” the destruction of a world she has done nothing but trying to survive and save. 

and I just- I just so deeply loved this first episode. I loved how the overarching plot was behind and around the characters, but did not substitute them. They move. The plot pushes them, but what we are ultimately following is their steps. 

I mean, think of the tragedy of those first five minutes— Tim. god, Tim. Sasha, forgotten and still there, still once present, alive. the joy and the fleeting happiness of a group of people that was expecting life, that was expecting to get old, remain close because of choice and not necessity.  and then, abruptly, think of the shift between the full life that once was and the emptiness of the world that is now. you know, of all things, I think that shift felt natural. because //that// is still Jon!!! because he loves Martin, because I won’t let it, because I couldn’t wake you, because he griefs and blames, because he doesn’t want to hear Martin say that it’s not his fault, even when it isn’t. it is still Martin because he tries anyway, because he says thanks when Jon expresses the desire- the need to protect him, as thought it came as a surprise. because he has hope, still, and he wants it, wants to find it.

because I love you, because what if, because they were cuddling during the entirety of that conversation and no one can convince me otherwise, because I have you, because they disagree and have trouble meeting in the middle and still they try. because this story is about cosmic horror, yeah, but more than that it is about the way humanity interacts with it. tragedy means nothing if it is just about pain. tragedies are unfair not only because they hurt, but because they were worth the effort. we speak a lot about Orpheus in this fandom, but the best part about his story is not that the person he loves dies tragically, it is that how and why he got to that point, the how and the why his songs were so achingly beautiful. there is hope in Orpheus because he sings!!! even if is worth nothing!!! even if eventually it leads him nowhere!!!!

I just love Jonny’s writing so, so much, and I trust that I am going to love s5 even when I am going to be crying about it. which is all I ask for, all in all 

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #jonmartin #also cannot believe just wrote a fic adjacent to this sentiment #sometimes i talk #mag 161

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Melted Hearts

Yet another favourite from my collection~ Here’s hoping everyone enjoys!

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

 “Yes, that’s what I said. Three days. Are you saying you can’t even handle tha-”

   “Tamaki?” You yawned as you stumbled your way into the small study he used as an office when he didn’t feel like going into work; all in all, a fairly unused room. It was strange to see him in it, especially when it was six in the morning.

 His head snapped towards you the moment your voice spilled past your lips, one hand moving up to cover the bottom of the phone while he flashed a nervous smile at you, the very same smile that had you falling for him when you first met.

 You found it strange how a man in such a powerful position could still be so shy and awkward towards you on a daily basis, but you also didn’t care enough to mention it, fearful that the tender smiles might stop entirely.

 “Did I wake you? I’m sorry bunny…I just have to make a few calls, I’ll be done soon” You nodded in response to his words, making your way over to him until you were faceplanting his chest, arms snaking around his waist so that you could steal the warmth he had taken with him when he left the bed just minutes ago.

 “You’re not going back to bed?” He tried his best not to chuckle as he watched you shake your head childishly, your grip on his loosely hanging shirt tightening until he moved a hand to the small of your back; pulling you just a little bit closer.

   “Three days. Handle it, I’m not discussing this anymore.”

   You shuddered at the firm tone his voice carried, a small smile tugging at your lips while you peeked up at him; eyes wide and awake now that you had gotten up in search for your long-term boyfriend.

 “Bunny, I’ve decided something” He paused, putting the phone down before moving his now free hand to your cheek, stroking it tenderly with a fondness in his dark eyes that you absolutely adored. Emotions he reserved for you and you alone.

 “Mm?” His lips stretched into an amused grin at your hum of curiosity, moments before he leaned down to steal your lips in a slow and sensual kiss, your eager reciprocation making him groan deeply.

   “I’m taking some time off, for the next three days, I’m yours and you, my beautiful little bunny, are mine.”

   ~  ~  ~

   “Open.”

   Your lips parted at his command, eyes glued to Tamaki’s own dark, love-filled gaze, your cheeks burning with embarrassment; you knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about, not after all this time with him.

 But it was so hard to get used to the idea of him feeding you the meals he had cooked especially for you; after all, not everyone could brag about having a mafia boss cook for them and spoil them rotten.

 “How is it?” He pulled the fork away while you chewed on the new dish slowly, the hot food practically melting in your mouth, filling it with a sweet taste you couldn’t possibly hope to describe. It was simply magical.

 “Delicious, just like everything you make me” He rolled his eyes at your words, turning his back to stir the food he had so generously allowed you to sample, a quiet snicker reaching your ears.

 “You know, I might think you’re humouring my cooking if you always say it’s delicious” He glanced back at you as you frowned, crossing your arms at the very thought of humouring his delicious food; you weren’t in the habit of lying to him and you most certainly wouldn’t start now.

 “Excuse you, I would not humour you, Tamaki. I say it’s delicious because it’s delicious! Not for any other reason” He turned his head as you spoke, quiet laughter spilling free while his shoulders shook from his efforts to hold it back; apparently your reaction amused him, though personally, you didn’t quite see what was so funny about it.

 You were being completely serious.

   “Tamaki…���

   “I know, I know…it’s okay” He turned to face you, reaching out to pat your head gently, a tender smile on his lips, showing that he understood your intentions.

 “I was only teasing bunny, but that was pretty cute” He brushed his lips against your forehead before stepping back to the stove, his attention now glued to the food that required it; though you didn’t mind. You were more than satisfied that he got the idea, Tamaki was always good like that, actually listening to the words that left your mouth and understanding what you meant.

 “…You tease me too much sometimes…”

   “I tease you just enough, you always want more, don’t you?”

   “…Shut up…” He laughed at your quiet response, shaking his head while busying himself with the food that threatened to burn if his attention faltered too much; sometimes it felt like he knew you too well, other times, well that was harder to express. Tamaki himself was near impossible to keep track of, his moods and the way he expressed himself were impossible to keep complete track of.

   “I love you too bunny…”

    ~  ~ ~  ~  ~

    “Are you really gonna propose to her boss?”

   Tamaki smiled down at the small ring box in his hand, still fiddling with it nervously, flipping the lid open and closed again, over and over; his nerves eating away at him from the inside out.

 “Yes…it’s long overdue and keeping her out of the business is no longer possible. Marrying her will work for many reasons…” He trailed off with a sigh, glancing towards the window in the small study, watching the rain as it hit against the glass and slowly made it’s way down the smooth surface. Oddly calming.

   “Everything here is running smoothly, just like you asked. Still have a day to do it”

   “I would rather do it now but she’s gone out for a bit, I’ll call back when I have her answer. Make sure to have someone ready with the things I asked for if she says yes, I don’t want to act prematurely, just in case…” He chuckled at his own doubts, going stiff the moment he heard your gentle voice call out through the otherwise empty house, alerting him that the nerves in his stomach would soon be settled; with either joy or heartbreak.

 “I have to go. Remember what you need to do.” He hung up a second later, stuffing the ring box into his pocket while throwing the phone down to the table without much care, instead, more focused on making his way through the house to greet you and take the shopping bags from you. Ignoring all complaints.

   “What were you doing back there?”

   “Nothing bunny, I just had to find something…you bought a lot today, have something big planned?” He smiled back at you to distract you from any thoughts of what he had been up to, making his way through to the kitchen while you trailed behind him slowly, a wide smile stretching across your plump lips.

 “Yes! I wasn’t expecting it last night, so there was only something plain for dinner but tonight, I’m making your favourite! Since you’re not home for dinner much, I thought it would be a nice change” You paused, tilting your head to the side while watching Tamaki empty out the bags on the kitchen bench, his attention split between listening to you and putting away the food.

 “…Are you okay Tamaki? You seem nervous”

   “Mm, I’m just trying to work something out”

   He moved in front of you before you could pry any further, his hands closing around yours, pressing a small yet strange object into your hands, the action making your eyes drop down to try and peek at whatever he wanted to give you.

 “Uh…Tamaki…?” You trailed off slowly while he knelt down in front of you, still holding onto your hands tightly, his own hands shaking uncharacteristically.

   “…Please open it…”

   Your brow furrowed once he removed his hands from your own, leaving behind a small box for you to open, a deep purple in colour; no clue as to what was inside until the moment you opened it.

 A beautifully simple ring laying inside of it, silver with beautifully coloured amethysts worked into the design, intricate butterflies that both you and your boyfriend loved decorating what could only be an engagement ring.

   “Bunny, say something…please…wait, are you crying? Why are you cr-”

   You cut him off before he could work himself up too much, tackling him down to the ground in a tight hug, tears rolling down your cheeks as your mind struggled to properly process exactly what this meant for the two of you.

   “YES!”

#tamaki amajiki #suneater #tamaki x reader #suneater x reader #bnha x reader #amajiki x reader #reader x tamaki #reader x suneater #reader x amajiki #mafia au #mafia!tamaki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #sfw #requests #cheeky kitsune #fluff #fluffy

[telli1206]

House of Tricks

Pirate Jay and Harry take a spin through a true house of horrors...Hell Hall.

I felt like the #Descendantsspookytime Hashtag needed more shorts, so here’s a little Pirate!Jay idea I’ve been toying with. I hope you enjoy it!

Also on AO3

WARNING: Some violence and non-con elements

-----

“Dammit Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea. If we get caught we’re dogmeat.”

Jay eyes Hell Hall warily, pausing on the path right in front of the door to stare at the dark, decrepit structure. Even with all of the decaying, crumbled buildings all over the island, this place still manages to creep Jay out.

Harry pauses next to him to follow Jay’s gaze, but simply chuckles at Jay’s leery expression, slapping him hard on the back as he makes his way past him and up to the door.

“Oy, chill, will ya? You saw the hag at the barge, too, plain as day. Everyone’s tryin’ ta grab all the special holiday garbage today, we can do whatever we want.”

Harry grunts in annoyance when he tries the door and finds it locked. But without a moment of hesitation, his hook is whipped off and already jammed into the lock, as he brings his head close to listen for it to jimmy open.

“But...why Hell Hall?” Jay asks. “We could definitely find an easier mark.”

Harry picks his head up and looks at Jay with a knowing smirk. “What are ye, not up fer the challenge? Aha!” He laughs triumphantly and pops himself up, almost bumping Jay in the face, but he jumps back just in time.

Still smiling, Harry keeps his eyes on Jay as he turns the knob and the door clicks open.

“Cruella’s got a load of rich furs in there, and ye know Cap’n would just love to get ‘er hands on ‘em. Either ta sell or just ta stick it ta the crazy bitch,” Harry notes with a wink.

Jay sighs defeatedly. He knows there’s no way to talk Harry out of making Uma happy. He’d gladly lose a limb for their beautiful captain, so a raid of Hell Hall would be a no-brainer. And evil knows, a “no-brainer” is Harry’s specialty.

“An’ I happened to notice a certain mutt was absent from mummy’s side,” Harry adds, making Jay’s ears perk with interest. “Betcha the cute lil’ thing is here protectin’ the furs. Ya can’t tell me that doesn’t get ya excited ‘bout it.”

Ok, maybe the guy’s got more brains than Jay thought.

He can’t fight the smile that creeps onto his face as he nods at Harry, stepping up eagerly now to follow his crewmate into the house. 

Harry’s known for a while now about Jay’s fascination with the De Vil boy. Ever since Carlos first showed up at Dragon Hall, with his too cute curls and freckles, flashing a too bright smile that he hid nervously under a stack of too big books, Jay’s had a strong desire to see more of him. Up until now, this desire has mostly led to a lot of Jay bullying of the smaller De Vil. And while that activity does often lead to touching, it doesn’t so much help Jay with actually talking to the boy. So, the potential to come face-to-face with Carlos outside of school and away from their classmates was more than intriguing.

And scoring loot for their captain in the process was definitely a bonus.

The house seems unusually dark as they step foot inside. Jay’s used to darkness, but not ones so pitch black he can barely see a foot in front of him. He takes slow, very cautious steps as he lets his eyes get adjusted, but when he tries to grip onto Harry to make him do the same, the other teen just scoffs and shakes him off.

“What’re ye doin??” Harry groans, shoving past Jay as he picks up his stride. “We’ll never get anywhere if yeh crawl through here like a baby. Cruella’s gonna skin yer ass five feet fro-”

All is suddenly silent as Jay loses sight of Harry. Jay’s eyes whip around frantically, trying to locate the vanishing teen.

“Harry?” He takes a few more careful steps forward, his breath heaving as he tries to calm his racing heart. He starts to hear muffled sounds coming from...right next to him? No, the floor. Under the floor?

He looks down, aiming his gaze just past the toe of his boots. Grunting sounds are definitely below him...and then a hand is grabbing his foot. 

Jay jumps and stumbles back, but the hand stays on his boot, gripping tightly as it pulls...Harry, out of a hole in the rotted wood floor. 

“Harry! Jay grabs his arm quickly, dragging him back up onto the main level. “What the hell?”

“Watch yer step,” the pirate moans. “That las’ one’s a doozy.”

“No kidding,” Jay deadpans, leaning forward to peer into the blackness of the hole. “You think that was supposed to be a trap?”

Harry shrugs as they step around the opening to continue farther into the house. “Doubt it. This whole place’s fallin’ apart. It’s probably just a lucky break,” he jokes, chuckling at his own pun. But Jay notices that his pace has slowed down some, and he seems more alert to their surroundings.

What was once an elegant staircase is in front of them, with now overly worn carpet turning up at the ends, nails and rotten wood exposed. Huge drapes of wallpaper peel down from the walls, revealing a flaking drywall and some splintered framing.

Harry stays close to Jay’s side as they slowly ascend the first level of stairs. Jay lets his eyes roam each corner, taking in every possible open space that could have a surprise lying in wait for them.

When they finally reach the first landing of the stairs, Harry exhales deeply, choking back a laugh as he steps back and gives Jay some breathing room.

“Damn, I’m startin’ ta feel like such a lil’ pussy! I don’t know what I was expectin’ ta happen in a big empty house with jus’ a wee pup in it.”

Jay matches Harry’s breathy laugh, shaking his head at his own concerns. He did feel a little silly. What is he afraid of? Carlos is so much smaller and weaker than both Harry and him. There’s no way he could really stir up any trouble.

Jay slumps against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief at his revelation. His brain barely registers a soft kachink sound next to him, almost like the sliding of a metal door. He feels a whoosh of air then, and something zips by his arm. But before he can process what’s happening, he spots Harry’s wide fearful eyes, frozen in shock and locked on Jay.

“Oy, are you ok?” Harry shrieks, making Jay wince from the high-pitched tone. He grabs at Jay’s arm, pulling him away from the wall and standing protectively in front of him. 

Jay fixes a confused look on Harry, at least until he cranes his neck around to see the...huge metal spears, jutting out of the wall that he was just leaning against.

He stares at them, stunned, when he feels the warmth of Harry’s hand on his arm. His own limb feels cold when pressed on by the pirate, and looking down he can see why. Trails of blood are dripping down, seeping out of a soaked tear in his shirt where one of the spears must have grazed him.

Harry grabs at Jay’s sleeve and rips the bottom half off, revealing a superficial cut across Jay’s bicep. Luckily it’s not bleeding much, and Harry simply uses the torn sleeve to tie over the wound, sealing in the blood as best he can, for now. They have plenty of first aid items for patching it up once they get back to the ship.

Jay nods a silent thank you to Harry, rubbing his arm that’s starting to sting. They both turn to peer up the stairs, quietly assessing their next move.

“Ya think...there’s more?” Harry hisses, peering up the darkened stairs. Jay starts to shrug, but a faint voice upstairs captures both their attention.

“Have you had enough?”

Harry and Jay both whip their heads toward the railing to see Carlos standing there, arms crossed and looking defiant. 

“If you’ve got any brains in your skulls, I recommend you get the hell out now before you really get hurt.” Carlos’ challenging stare never falters, but Jay can see a slight shake in the boy’s shoulders even from his vantage point well below him.

Still, Jay’s never seen Carlos attempt to stand up to him before. The usually timid boy was acting bold, even a little vicious, as he did his best to stare down Harry and Jay in his home.

It was definitely hot.

“Yeah, right,” Harry teases, laughing at Carlos’ threat. “What else are yeh gonna do, lil’ boy? Throw yer big bad books at me?”

Harry slaps Jay on the back with a smile, motioning with his head for them to go upstairs. Jay nods silently and starts to follow behind him.

“Yeh better run, pup. You don’t wanna know what’s gonna happen to you after we catch yeh. I don’t appreciate lil' cutesy things tryin’ ta make threats at me.”

Carlos just shakes his head and pulls out some kind of remote from behind his back.

Jay pauses, eyes widening as Carlos hovers a finger over one of the buttons. He quickly jumps over and grabs for Harry to try to pull him away, but it’s already too late.

With the press of the button a soft click can be heard from above, and the clunk of something heavy dropping. With that a large white object on a rope comes hurtling towards Harry, connecting solidly with the side of his head and sending him toppling backwards on the steps. Jay leans forward to try to catch him, but the teen’s heavy frame takes them both down onto their backs, sprawling them uncomfortably onto the landing.

Jay groans, bracing himself on his arms as he slides his body out from under Harry. Harry is completely distracted and unhelpful, gripping his head tightly as he yowls in pain. 

Jay spots the offending object just a few feet from where they lay and drags himself over to examine it. Rocks of all sizes are strewn all over, clearly spilling from the white...what looks like...a paint can?

“I tried to warn you,” Carlos calls out to them, giving an unconcerned shrug. “Now leave before something worse happens to you!”

Carlos backs away from the railing to leave, but stops in his tracks when he hears a loud growling. 

“Ya lil’ runt!” Harry bellows, pushing himself off the ground and charging up the stairs.

Carlos screeches and makes a run for it down the hall, rapidly pushing buttons along the way. A hail of paint cans starts swinging at the stairs, but Harry’s speedy in his rage, darting and ducking through the barrage. Jay jumps into action to follow Harry, catching one of the paint cans just before it clocks him in the face and keeping his grip on the paint can as he runs. He uses it to knock away anything else that swings his way, averting paint can after paint can until he makes it to the top of the stairs. Once he’s successful, Jay drops the can and tries to catch up to Harry just in front of him.

“Harry! Stop! There might be more-” 

Harry’s arms fly up just then, and his feet go over his head as he slams down onto his back with an infuriated grunt.

Jay slows down, swinging his arms out for balance when he notices a black substance streaked across the floor.

“Oil??” He whines, dragging his feet slowly towards Harry, who has yet to try standing up. “Stay there, Harry.”

“I’m gonna kill that mutt,” he mutters as he waits for Jay to grab his hand. Together, they manage to flip Harry over, and he carefully scoots over to the wall to slide himself up to standing.

“Chill, Harry. You’re just pissed that pup keeps outsmarting you. Maybe you should think about listening to me before you rush around every corner.”

Harry perks a brow at Jay. “You’re lovin’ this, aren’t ya? I think yeh’ve got a boner for that boy’s brain.”

Jay snorts, dragging himself to a stop as they reach Carlos’ door. “Fuck you, Hook. For your information, he’s got a cute ass, too.”

Harry throws his head back to laugh but winces, grabbing his still throbbing head. “Just lemme give ‘em one good rap on the head fer payback once we catch ‘em, then he’s all yours. I just wanna get Cap’n her furs and get outta here.”

Jay shakes his head as he slowly starts to turn the knob. “I’ll think about it. Just go for the furs, ok? I’ll take care of Carlos.”

Harry nods, putting his hand on the door to push his way through. But Jay stops him with a firm hand on his chest.

“Whoa, boy. What did I just say about going slow? We’re not out of the woods yet.”

Harry hesitates, then decides to take a step behind Jay, waving him to go in first. 

Jay creaks the door open and is met with inky black darkness. He pushes it wide, opening it as far as he can to try to cast the dim twilight from the hall inside to illuminate his way as much as possible. It’s not much, unfortunately, so Jay does his best to squint his eyes into the blackness. The small beams of lights flicker over a flash of silver in front of them, so Jay opts to pull Harry in along the wall, choosing against finding out the hard way if that glint was from a blade of some sort.

“Stay against the wall,” he hisses, pressing Harry back. They sidle slowly, keeping their bodies as flush as they can with the walls inside the dark room. Jay can see a small sliver of light and grabs at Harry’s arm, pulling him to follow faster. They’re SO close, and Jay’s getting desperate to free them from Carlos’ wrath before anything else happens.

Jay’s fingers finally fumble around a door handle, and he quietly sucks in his breath once he has a good grip.

“Heeeere’s Jay!” He taunts, yanking open the door and pulling Harry with him.

Carlos jumps up quickly from his spot on the floor, the remote bouncing in his fingers from his sudden action. Jay leaps forward to successfully grab it away, releasing an unsteady Harry in the process.

“Aha!” He shouts triumphantly, holding the remote over a wide-eyed Carlos. But before he can react, a stumble and crash from behind Jay has them both turning, just in time to catch Harry’s yelp and deafening clang.

“It’s a fuckin’ bear trap! Jay!” Harry screeches, bouncing around as he lets out little squeals of pain. The trap is latched to the back of his pant leg, barely attached but most clearly grappled to some skin, if Harry’s pained expressions and sounds tell them anything.

Jay clamps a hand to Carlos’ shoulder, pushing him back against the wall and throwing him a menacing glare. “Stay,” he demands, finger pointed right into Carlos’ face. The boy squeaks, but nods quickly.

“Jay! Jay! Get it offfff! Get it off!” Harry pleads as he wails pathetically. 

Jay rolls his eyes and stomps forward, grabbing onto the trap and ripping it off with one strong tug. Harry howls and grips his leg, ripping apart the rest of his shredded pants so he can check for any blood.

“It’s just a scratch, calm down,” Jay sighs. “Now suck it up and go get your booty,” he tells Harry with a wave of his hand. The open door had revealed the mass of furs in the room they just braved, ready and waiting to be stolen.

Harry claps his hands excitedly when he spots the furs, jumping up to hurriedly start yanking them off the hangers and over his shoulders.

“No!” Carlos yips fearfully, reaching out to stop them.

But Jay pushes him until he thuds back against the wall, bracing his arms on either side of Carlos’ head as he dips in close to his face.

“Can it, pup. Don’t you think we deserve a little something after what you just put us through?” Jay whispers, ghosting his breath over Carlos’ lips. The boy sucks in his own breath but remains stiff and silent, refusing to look up and meet Jay’s gaze.

“I’m impressed you know,” Jay continues after the boy doesn’t respond. He lets a finger drag across Carlos’ shoulder, following along the neckline of his t--shirt and up his neck, tilting his chin so his eyes meet Jay’s.

“You could have really fucked us up with those traps,” he says to frightened brown eyes. “I almost lost Harry there a few times. And you owe me a new shirt.” He picks up his elbow, showing Carlos his torn bandage sleeve.

Jay lets his free hand slide up Carlos’ shirt, splaying his fingers across a smooth, freckled abdomen. He can feel a slight hitch of breath, and his lips curl into a smile that brushes against Carlos’ mouth.

“Maybe I can just take this one?” he teases, lifting the boy’s shirt up a little.

But a shadow of contempt clouds Carlos’ eyes, and he uses both hands to yank his shirt back down, knocking his forehead against Jay’s to force some space between them.

Jay chuckles as he steps back some, shaking his head as he lifts a hand to cup Carlos’ cheek.

“Firey little thing, aren’t you? We’ll just have to see if we can break that. Uma likes her crew to have some spark, but not if it means you might rebel against your Captain.”

“Cap’n?” Harry interjects, walking back towards Jay. He’s covered in dozens of furs, wearing a few himself while the rest are draped over both shoulders. “Is tha runt joinin’ our crew?”

“I’d say so,” Jay replies, pulling Carlos closer by the neck. “Uma would love to have someone clever around that can lay traps like that. We’d never have to worry about intruders making it on the ship alive.”

Harry’s eyes brighten as he shakes his head furiously. “Oh yeah! And imagine if tha bitch was kept away from her furs by her own lil’ boy. That’d really get ‘er blood boiling.”

“But, I don’t want to,” Carlos answers, his voice weak and shaky. He startles and backs up when Jay leans forward and presses their lips together firmly.

“Sorry if I made you think you had a choice in the matter, pup,” Jay tells him when he pulls away. He drops down and quickly hoists Carlos over his shoulder, prompting a yelp from him as he’s lifted off the ground.

“Alright Harry, let’s get back to the ship.” Jay follows as Harry trudges his way out of the closet, moving slowly underneath the massive pile of furs.

Jay shifts to adjust the wriggling boy he’s carrying as they leave Hell Hall, wrapping an arm across Carlos’ hips and clapping the other down on a perky round ass. “After this crazy house of tricks, I think I deserve a little treat, don’t you?”

#descendants spooky time #Descendents #jaylos #jay x carlos #jay son of jafar #harry hook #Carlos De Vil #pirate!jay #pirate!harry

[victorscrown]

V I C T O R ‘ S  C R O W N  ⸻

type: excerpt

word count: 2236

warning(s): mentions of suicide

status: second draft, unedited

For as long as Finnick Odair can remember, the ocean has been his home. He learned to swim almost before he could walk; his mother used to joke that he should have been born with fins and gills instead of arms and legs. His earliest memories are drenched in saltwater and smell like brine and fish. They are sand-bottomed, adorned with seashells and kelp and coral, set to the melody of waves crashing against the shore and seagulls crying from the air. They are wrought from long hours spent aboard District 4’s trawlers, netting seafood bound for the hungry mouths of Capitol citizens. His parents’ house might be where he sleeps, but the ocean is where he belongs.

Despite this, the ever-present threat of the Hunger Games sweeps Finnick out of the water and deposits him in the austere world of Career education almost before he’s old enough to understand what he’s preparing for. The only son of eminent fleet captain Lochlan Odair and his shipwright wife, Finnick is selected for District 4’s prestigious training academy two years earlier than the normal recruiting age. Every minute Finnick is not at sea he is training, learning how to survive, how to fight, how to win.

Being a five-year-old in a class of children two years his senior should have left him at a distinct disadvantage, but Finnick is a natural, both at the physical and mental aspects of Career academia. After his first day at the academy, Finnick marches thorough the door of his home, head held high, and announces, “I’m going to win the Hunger Games one day.”

His parents don’t quite know what to think about this. As one of the few families of Panem with some material wealth to call their own, a sense of responsibility falls on the Odairs, a need to provide for and protect the less fortunate of their district. They donate frequently to the Games fund. They satiate the appetites of greedy Capitol officials with bribes and obsequience. But willingly sending their own child to the Games is a sacrifice above and beyond what they are willing to make. In District 4, it’s considered an honor to be chosen to compete in the Games, but it doesn’t make the possibility of their child dying at the hands of another any more palatable. So Finnick’s parents mask their worry behind sunny smiles and words of congratulation.

We are so proud of you! Their voices warble like the tide. You will make such an excellent angler. All of the fish will just hop right into your net!

Meanwhile, Finnick, young, soft, and new, is dazzled and awed by the bright posters hanging from the academy walls. Show pride in your district! the posters urge. Volunteer to compete and show Panem what District 4 is really made of!

In Finnick’s academy days, volunteerism, while not rampant like it was in Districts 1 and 2, was frequent enough to preserve the district amidst a sea of destitution. To the trained, money is a powerful motivator, and the fact that many victors pour their winnings back into the district makes the Games seem much more appealing. But the Games are only appealing when someone from District 4 wins.

Finnick is seven when he hears about Nereus. News of the victor’s death floods the streets as though carried by a riptide, and soon all of District 4 is talking about it. Poor old Nereus, academy personnel would mutter when they thought the students could not hear. Found his body on the beach. Wanted to see the sun set one more time, the poor fool.

Even then, Finnick is old enough to know of Nereus, victor of the Forty-second Hunger Games. While other victors were deeply involved in the functions and activities of the academy—drafting the school’s curricula, hosting seminars, even teaching classes for potential tributes—Nereus did not step foot once in the academy after his victory. He holed himself up in his luxurious house in the Victor’s Village and did not emerge unless coerced. Except on the night on which he died.

Officially, Nereus died of a heart attack—a tragic accident, the mayor of District 4 claims at his district-wide funeral. But there are rumors floating around District 4, eddying in the dorms of the academy and muddying the waters of the mayor’s claims like silt.

They say Nereus died of a heart attack, but he never goes outside. Why would he go to the beach unless he knew something? Unless he planned something?

One night, Finnick is brave enough to ask his father about it.

“Dad, the mayor says Nereus died of a heart attack. But everyone else is saying he planned it himself. Like he wanted to die.”

Finnick’s parents exchange looks. Finnick just waits. His father will answer eventually; he always does.

“I’m not sure I understand your question, Finnick,” Lochlan says at last.

“Why would Nereus want to die?” Finnick asks. “He won the Hunger Games, right? He lived in a big house and had all the food and money he could ever want.”

Lochlan takes a deep breath, as if about to dive underwater, and fixes Finnick with a serious look. “Nereus’ death was unfortunate, yes. But he was selfish, through and through.”

“Lochlan,” Finnick’s mother starts, reproving, but he carries on.

“You were right, Finnick. Nereus was a victor. And as such, he had a duty to his district. A duty to care for his people, to give them help as they needed it.”

“Like you do,” Finnick says.

Lochlan nods solemnly. “Nereus was so caught up in himself he forgot his obligation. But we will never be so. You, son, are an Odair. And when you grow older, when your mother and I are gone, you will carry the responsibility for our district as well.” His eyes, to which Finnick’s are so often compared, are as dark and fierce as a stormy sea. “As captain, I must direct my crew. I must tell them how to steer the ship, exactly where we are to go, or else we will get lost out on the open sea. Or even worse, crash and sink the bottom of the ocean. District 4 is one giant ship. There must be a strong, steady captain, or the ship will not make it safely back to the harbor. Do you understand?”

Finnick is seven and understands very little of what his father’s metaphor implies. But he nods his head obediently and tucks the conversation away in his heart, where he dwells upon it often in the quiet, solitary moments before dawn.

Later, Finnick realizes District 4 didn’t mourn Nereus’ death as much as they mourned the sudden lack of monetary resources his presence sanctioned. He might have been a recluse, but his winnings still aided the people. With one more victor dead, there was one less salary the district could use as a crutch.

Unfortunately, Nereus’ death seems to be the advent of a streak of bad luck for District 4. In the following months, when the seas are normally teeming with life and District 4 flourishes under its bounty, trawlers begin hauling in seafood black and putrid with disease. A parasite, they soon discover, and quicker than a flash flood it spreads from the sea to the air. Infected birds begin to litter District 4’s pristine shores alongside their infected prey. This won’t last, trawler captains assure their Capitol managers. Give it a season, and the parasite will die out and your quotas will be met.

Another season comes and goes. Fishing is poor and the district poorer.

In response, strict rationing is instituted by the Capitol. The inner sectors of the district, already barely keeping themselves afloat, start to get pulled under by the riptide of starvation. Dissent ripples outward, starting in the inner sectors, where the rationing hits hardest, to the outer fringes of the district, where the Odairs live. The Capitol, fearing outright rebellion, tightens its chokehold on District 4 with an unforgiving fist. Anyone suspected of instigating an uprising are punished severely, or just disappear altogether. A district-wide curfew is enacted, with harsh retribution allotted to any who break it. And the academy is shut down, because every child over the age of seven is forced onto a trawler alongside their older siblings and parents, shuttled inland to work in the processing plants, or consigned to long, back-breaking hours combing beaches for clams and any other edible source of food.

The fleet is out to sea for weeks at a time, venturing out to waters previously considered too dangerous to fish. Finnick is lucky enough to have grown up on his family’s trawler, but other children are not so lucky. Every week, it seems there is a new story about some untrained child being washed overboard by colossal waves, or strangled by the heavy nets, or withered away by dysentery caused by eating rotten seafood. These children are mourned the way children sent to the Games are mourned.

Finnick’s mother and other shipwrights are displaced from their jobs in the shipyards to assist in the process of moving delicate, time-sensitive cargo onto trains and hovercrafts bound for the Capitol. With so much of the seafood being rendered inedible, it is imperative that every iota of good food is transported to the Capitol as quickly as possible to minimize the amount of time trawlers spend in port and reduce the spoiling of perishable goods. Finnick and many other children do not see one or both parents for weeks.

The only time everyone has off is to partake in the 60th Hunger Games. The afternoon before Reaping Day, every vessel in District 4’s fleet returns to shore, but there is no relief in the days to come. For the next three weeks, District 4 witnesses firsthand the consequences of minimal to no Career training. This year’s volunteers—a pair of inner district adolescents desperate to fight their way out of poverty or die trying—have not been properly trained in over a year. They don’t stand a chance against their Career counterparts from One and Two. District 4 watches, deluged in shame and horror, as both of their tributes are killed off in the first week of the Games. The chance of securing relief from the Capitol in the form of food or other supplies dies with them.

Finnick doesn’t quite understand what the Games imply, why they occur or why children must be sent to die. But he recognizes his parents’ grief, the pronounced slump of his father’s shoulders, the sheen of tears in his mother’s red-rimmed eyes. He recognizes the bent heads and dull gazes of other adults, and even some children, who even younger than Finnick are impacted by the despotism of the Capitol.

The night of his ninth birthday, Finnick is rocked to sleep by the roll and pitch of his father’s ship, already redeployed after the Games. He misses his mother desperately, but he most likely won’t get to see her for another fortnight, when the trawler will deliver its bounty into her custody onshore. It can’t go on like this forever, he thinks, though it’s hard to think about much other than the hunger gnawing at his belly. At some point, things will go back to normal.

And gradually, things do. In the following months, the parasite infecting District 4’s waters dies out, and more food becomes available to citizens outside of the Capitol. Children are allowed to go back to school. The academy reopens, and vigorous training resumes. By now, though, District 4 is a good two years behind the other districts in terms of Games readiness. And it shows when Four loses yet another Games—to a girl from Three, of all places.

The humiliation wears at District 4’s normally indefatigable spirit. It’s made indubitably clear that the only way District 4 will begin bringing home victors is if they’re trained first. So District 4 unites the best it can, pouring every possible asset into scholarships and Games-related aid organizations. Every extra cent of the Odairs’ income flows directly into fund dedicated to providing for Four’s tributes in the arena. As for Finnick, there is nothing he can do but train. And train he does, with an unprecedented intensity and focus. His dedication garners the attention of academy faculty, who praise his skill and commitment. Even Capitol officials, stationed at the academy to monitor for suspicious activity, remark at the newfound enthusiasm with which he tackles his education.

Your boy shows such promise! they’d tell Finnick’s father. He’s going to be a volunteer for sure.

By the time Finnick’s thirteenth birthday arrives, he has been living at the academy full-time for three years. Once children achieve Games eligibility at age twelve, the most promising are assigned personal trainers, some of whom are former victors. Batten is a perfect match for Finnick’s relentless ambition. He shapes Finnick into just what he intends to be: A reason for District 4 to maintain its pride, a victor through and through.

#thg fanfic #the hunger games #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #thg #finnick odair #series: victor's crown #fic: victor's crown #ch: finnick odair #victor's crown: excerpt #[ let's play a game called how many tags can emma possibly add to a single post ] #[ you have no idea how long it took me to format this lol ]

[your-highnessmarvel]

For Better or For Worse

Requested by Anonymous: Now we ALL know Chris wants kids. If you don’t know that you’re not a real fan. But what about a fic where the reader can’t have kids and she wants to break up with Chris because she thinks that’s what’s best for him?

AN: ok this is like... really angsty and i got carried away in it and idk... im kinda sad today. on another note! i got a B+ on an essay exam i thought i canned so yay

Warnings: angst, language

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST

You reread the text message again.

Hey baby. Sorry for not being able to make it today with you. I am hopeful! Let me know as soon as you get out! <3

Your left knee bounced. Your stomach twisted. The TV in the left corner of the room buzzed some news about COVID-19, but you couldn’t care less. A stranger next to you shuffled his feet and it was so loud. It resonated in your skull, climbing down your spine. 

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up. The doctor stood with a smile on her face, dossier in hand, door open behind her. 

“Yes,” you said. 

“Come with me.”

You followed her through the door, the back of her white lab coat stark. It felt like you were following her to your doom; to the pits of hell and beyond. Your heart raced as you passed through the familiar doors and sat on the same leather chair as before. 

But last time you were with Chris. Last time, he was here, holding your hand, as nervous as you were. 

“Okay, Y/N, how are we doing today?” the doctor asked, sitting directly in front of you. You had a queasy feeling, watching her sparkling white smile and her vivid eyes. 

Did she have good news?

“Nervous,” you admitted. Your mouth was dry. You just wanted to know the results. 

The doctor’s face went soft and she opened the dossier, revealing a small stack of papers; all the tests you’d done with her. 

“It is as we feared, Y/N,” she said, hands on the table. “All the tests show that your eggs are barren. I am very sorry. I know how much having a child of your own means to you and your husband, and I know this must be terrible news. There are, however, alternatives, like adoption.”

There was a burning so intense in your chest that you feared you’d pass out. It was like someone lit a fire between your ribs and was cooking you from the inside out. Involuntary tears spilled from the edges of your eyes, gliding down your cheeks, clinging to your jaw as desperately as you’d clung to the hope of baring Chris’s children. 

Your hands balled into fists. Eyes closed. Breathing slowed. You could hear the doctor speaking, but it was as if through water. She was saying something about this process of multiple tests, all of them negative, proving that you really wanted to be a mother and that would be a plus on the adoption forms and you’d be considered a good candidate. 

You didn’t want to adopt! You wanted to conceive a child, half of you and half of Chris. To have a piece that was the both of you, together. To see if your child would have Chris’s smile or your hair or his little dimples. You wanted to see which part of your character they’d inherit. Or maybe they’d be more like Chris. 

“I...” You looked up through tear filled eyes, but only say the shape of the doctor who’d just told you you’d never have children of your own. “I’m going to go.”

“Would you like me to call your husband?” she asked, seeing your state. 

“No.”

The last thing you needed was to tell Chris right now. He’d been so hopeful that this final test, this final and last try would be a miracle. Even if it was just one child, one would be enough, one would be your saving grace. 

He’d hate you. Of course he would. With time. There is not a thing in the world Chris wanted more than children. Little boys and girls running around, playing hide-and-seek. Teaching his daughter to drive. Teaching his son to cope with his feelings in a healthy way. Showing his kids the aquarium. Snow fights. Autumn leaf piles. Swings. Sand boxes.

He’d resent you. Of course he would. With time. He’d find a way to leave you because he couldn’t stand to know his biggest wish was dead. He’d marry someone else, someone fertile, someone able to give him a piece of himself fused with a woman he loved. 

He’d forget you. Of course he would. With time. After his children would be born and they would grow up in front of his eyes, he’d forget the woman with a rotten womb and empty ovaries. 

You hadn’t noticed, but you’d somehow managed to walk out of the office, down the stairs, and out into the parking. The sun was out, high, hot. Sweat formed on your forehead, in the palm of your hands, behind your knees. 

You had a sudden, harsh thought. You knew exactly what to do. 

You texted Chris to call you when he had the time. You got into your car, like a ghost, like a phantom, and sat there holding the wheel. It was warm and hard, the heat of the summer cooking up the car. You looked in the rearview, at the empty backseat. There would never be a little one sitting there, in a baby seat or as a kid or as a teenager with their friends. 

There would never be.

The phone rang. 

“Hello.”

“Hey, babe, how did it go?” There was so much hope in his voice; the ring of his tone and the cracking. He had so much hope and you were about to squash it between your fingers like ants. 

“Where are you?” You tried to sound normal, neutral, but there were still tears drying on your cheeks. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Chris, where are you?” Now, you sounded angry, impatient, and you hated it, hated the way you were talking to him. He didn’t deserve it. 

He gave you the place he was at. “It’s a set so come by the back gate and I’ll be waiting there, okay?” His voice was harsher, less hopeful, and there was a hint of knowing. Knowing exactly what you were coming to say. 

You drove there in silence. No music. No humming. Catatonic. Your mind was blank, the roads busy, the streetlights bright, your thoughts a mess. There was an ache in your stomach, deep and hurting, as if you’d been cut open from sternum to belly button, and the wound was festering. 

You were minutes away from ending the most beautiful part of your life. 

You parked awkwardly on a curb but who cares. The little walk from your car to the gate was hard, your knees trembling, feet numb. Chris was waiting at the gate to let you in, a wary look tearing his features apart. 

As soon as you were through, he put his arm around your shoulders and kissed your forehead. “Y/N,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?”

He smelled so familiar and felt like an anchor. It was an instinct to lean in, forehead against the crook of his shoulder. It was all so familiar. The glint of the ring on his finger. The smell of the detergent he used at home, the one you washed all your clothes in. 

“Can we talk in private?”

His eyes slid down to the ground, a tick in his jaw. He knew. But he didn’t know all. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, but pulled you along to his trailer. 

Inside, it smelled like his cologne. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and you smiled because Chris never liked to wash his dishes and you were always the one picking up after him. He liked to vacuum though, and it showed in the pristine floors and sparkling shelves that he’d dusted. 

He grabbed your hand and led you to the couch. He sat beside you, shoulders turned to you, eyes searching your face. He saw the dried tears. The trembling lower lip. 

“It was negative?” he asked lowly, running his fingers over your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” You bit your lip. “Again.” 

He sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder. There was a moment of silence where you just stared at the blank TV screen, listening to Chris breathing against you. 

“We’ll find another way,” he said, lifting his head. “We’ll go through another round of IV.”

You shook your head. “The doctor said I’m barren, Chris,” you said, fighting tears. “There is literally nothing we can do anymore.”

He grabbed your hand with both of his. “Adoption.” He said it as if it was a miracle cure. 

“No, Chris, I want a child of our own.” You bit your lip, tears fighting to slip from your lashes. “A little girl with blue eyes or a little boy who is as stubborn as me.” And this time, you did cry. And you saw just how hard Chris was fighting his own. 

“It’s alright, baby, hey.” He took your head in his arms, bringing you against the safety of his stern chest. 

You let yourself sob against him, wetting his sweater, grasping onto his shoulder. He rubbed his hand up and down your back. He set his wet cheek against the top of your head. 

Hiccuping, you pulled away from him, wringing your hands. “Chris, I... I’m...” you trailed off, raking a hand through your hair. “I’m gonna... go live with my mom for a bit.”

He frowned deeply, suddenly changing from sad to confused in a matter of milliseconds. 

“No, Y/N, no, no, why?” He leaned in, looking at you deeply, blue eyes searching yours. He held onto your hand so tightly it almost hurt. 

“Chris, you don’t deserve this,” you said, sniffling. “I’m never going to give you a little girl to teach her how to drive or a boy to go to shows with. We’re never gonna have babies in the bed with us in the morning. We’re never going to watch little league games. Daycare. Potty training.”

He stood, thumb to his lips. He was angry, tension roiling in his muscles. “I can’t believe it,” he growled behind clenched teeth. “I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want you because you can’t have biological children with me. Do you think I only want you for that? You’re not a machine, Y/N. You’re not broken. You’re my wife. I pledged to love you for better or for worse. We will work through this. I promise you.”

He knelt before you, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He grabbed your hand, held it to his heart, looking up at you imploringly. “Don’t ever think that. Ever.” He reached up to wipe a tear from your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Yes, I want kids. But I want you, more than anything. We’ll get a dog. Or a cat. Or both. But I’m not separating from you, okay?”

There was a hole in your chest, and it was aching, and it was healing, and you wanted to cry from joy and fear and powerlessness. “Oh, Chris.”

“No,” he said, lip trembling, tear rolling from the corner of his cheek. “No. Don’t leave me. Don’t. We will work it out.”

You leaned in, kissed his cheek, where the tear was settling, tasted the salt of it. “Okay.”

He sighed of relief, embracing you softly. He pressed his cheek against yours. He was shaking like a leaf. “I love you, and I want you to remember that forever,” he whispered. “I won’t let you go for anything in the world.”

You nodded against his shoulder. “I love you too, Chris.” 

He pressed his thumb against the ring on your finger. The ring he’d given to you on the day of your wedding, where he’d vowed to love you forever and always. Where he’d kissed you in front of both of your families. Where he’d tied himself to you in the holiest of ways, binding you to him and to his care, and vice versa.

He was remembering you, remembering himself, the reason why that ring was on your finger. For better or for worse. And this was the worse, but you’d live it together. You’d overcome it together. No matter what.

#chris evans #chris evans xreader #chris evans x you #chris evans x yn #chris evans x y/n #angst #fluff #oneshot #imagine #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 9: Scheming anew (Part 1)

Warnings: mention of drugs, murder

Author notes: I am back, with the ninth chapter! From now on, we will follow Ogawa as she makes her first steps in the world of light... I hope you’ll like it as much as when she was in the Port Mafia!

I tiredly stared at the cockroach climbing onto the cracked wall of the room, emotionless. I was getting used to such sight and these creatures no longer scared me anymore. Sometimes, in the depth of the night, a rat or two would even sneak out from their hideout and explore the place, looking for something to eat. It was of no use; I had no fridge and nothing comestible for them. The only thing I bought with the money I had saved from the Mafia was morphine. A lot of morphine, to relieve my headache and the pain in my body. Recently, my limbs had been constantly numb and aching, and my insides were not much better, often burning and churning, making me uncomfortable permanently. I looked away from the cockroach and buried my face in the dirty pillow, trying to get some rest. There was no helping it, my ability would end up killing me, anyway. All I could do was wait for the reaper to harvest my soul, in this poor excuse of a room I had found after leaving the comfortable place Odasaku had permitted me to have, in a poor hostel no one had ever heard about. Although I had left the Port Mafia full of hopes I could follow Dazai's traces and live in the world of light by his side, delusion had hit me hard, like a slap, and I had realised I would never physically be able to reach out to him. I was too tired to find a proper job, not to mention my lack of any qualification and diploma, and no one wanted to hire a pitiful and pathetic woman like me anyway. Reality was much harsher than the naive dreams my mind was still able to produce after all this time spent along horror and cruelty. I had promised the one who called himself my friend to warn him before I would give my last breath but... I had no way to contact him. The man had changed his phone number after leaving the organisation so no one would be able to contact him anymore. I did not even know where he worked, and even if I did find the infirmary where I had been treated, I could be turned down if he was not there. No, there was no way... I would close my eyes onto the world, alone and forsaken. At least, my rotten flesh could serve as a meal for the rats...

Nausea got the better of me and I had to stand up to drag myself toward the bathroom, where I could freely vomit any amount of blood my body desired to throw up in the toilets. I sighed, deeply, and closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to collapse on the dusty ground, shaking and weakened by both my ability and the terrible amount of morphine I took. I could no longer hold on, I did not remember having suffered so much... But since I had tasted sleep, I believed it was a logical outcome that my condition would worsen without it. I could never get up and run after him anymore... I no longer had the strength to do so.

Suddenly, noises erupted from the neighbouring room and I stopped moving to hear better. There seemed to be people struggling... Fighting, even... The Sweet Appeals could distinguish a female's thoughts, but she was not being raped... She was calling for help. There was a part of me, impulsive and healthy, which reacted immediately and moved my body toward my doorknob. Then, there was the other part, sick and fatigued, more careful, too, which warned me about the potential dangers I would encounter. After hesitating a minute, I decided to check on my neighbour and silently pulled out an unloaded gun in case I would need to defend myself. I did not have any bullets anymore, but the weapon could dissuade my opponents. I opened the door to the room next door and was encountered with a strong air stream coming from the window, left opened. And in front of it, a corpse. It belonged to a young woman, perhaps in her twenties, but as I turned on the light to examine it closely, I noticed there was absolutely no trace of the struggling I could have heard just a moment earlier. I frowned and put my gun back into its holster, kneeling down next to the victim. She was definitely dead, and I had not imagined the noises I had heard. It was also clear that the murderers, because they were several, had escaped through the window. The whole question now was to know how and why she had been killed. "How" would be easily solved by an autopsy. "Why" would require further investigation I could not do myself. I stood up and looked around for any hint as to who was after her. However...

"Hands up!! Now!!" A man shouted.

I turned around brusquely and met the barrel of a semi-automatic pistol — the model the state equipped policemen with. I bit my lower lip and raised my hands, defeated, and let myself be guided through the insalubrious corridors of the hostels, toward the entrance. Through the small opening of the main door, I could see the flashing lights of the red sirens and cursed myself for not hearing them come before. They sat me down and tied my hands behind my back. And they left me there.

I thought I would go mad without being able to move and shoot some morphine through my vessels. They had abandoned me there for several hours already, without even wondering if I was not a simple witness in the entire case. Moreover, who had warned them about this murder...? I had not, so perhaps the true culprits had deliberately sent the police there to provoke them. Unfortunately, curiosity had gotten me caught up in the case. The sun was slowly raising above the buildings of Yokohama and, at last, a man walked toward me. His serious face was framed by neatly tied blonde hair and a pair of glasses accentuated the severity of his look. I immediately knew he would be troubles when I saw him pull out a notebook where the word "ideal" was written on the cover. There were people who thought we, humans, could live respecting certain codes of morals in society. I was not one of them. I was nowhere near righteous, had discarded laws and ideals long ago and usually laughed at those idealistic ones who believed our world could be ruled by laws of decency. There was nothing such as decency. If this abstract concept truly existed, there would be no underground organisation nor people suffering unfairly across the world. No human could be disinterested enough not to give in to greed and power, which destroyed ideals. I stared at him, bothered.

"You..." He exhaled, readjusting his glasses "Don't give me that look."

"That look?" I cocked my head to the side "Which one would you prefer, then?"

"Ugh, a cocky criminal..."

"Ah." I clicked my tongue to correct him "Before you have any evidence of my crime, I am still a suspect, which is nowhere near a criminal. Besides, before you ask, I am innocent. I merely heard a noise coming from the room and thought I should take a look. A woman screaming in the night, you wouldn't keep sleeping tightly, would you?"

"How do you explain we found you near the corpse, then? People called the police and out of pure hazard you are the one we find? I can't believe it." He crossed his arms.

"The window was wide opened." I remembered "The ones you are looking for surely escaped from it. Not to mention they surely are the ones who called the police."

"Why would they do such a stupid thing? Why are you making excuses up to cover for —"

"Seriously, are you dumb? Or dense? Or both?" I groaned, annoyed "What are you, an inspector? If so, you can file your resignation letter...! You aren't worth the money you're paid to do your job...!"

"Outrageous words against an agent of the government..." He scribbled down a paper "Careful what you say, you're adding up to your case."

"Why, I don't care, since I'm innocent." I raised an eyebrow, discreetly tugging onto the restraints "Gather fingerprints if you need them. There won't be mine, neither on the window nor the corpse. But is your lab even able to produce useful clues?"

The man sighed heavily, massaging his forehead with a grimace of annoyance.

"Careful not to crunch your face up too much, inspector~" I chuckled "You don't want to have wrinkles in your twenties~"

"Eh...? Is that true...?"

The man was definitely dense. Or naive. The rope around my wrists loosened, and I decided to take this opportunity to escape, although this probably would bring me even more troubles. However, I could not afford to be accused of a crime I had not committed, and if I could find the true murderer, I would be able to clear myself off of any suspicion.

"Yeah...!" I nodded "Why don't you write it in your notebook...? That thing seems pretty important to you...! Now, 'frowning too much gives you wrinkles', write it down...!"

"Um... Frowning too much... Gives you —"

I hit him with the chair as he was not looking, knocking him down in the process.

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida

[need-a-fugue]

And Barista Makes Three

Summary: It was suppose to be fun… something new and exciting that you and Bucky could do together. But there is such a thing as too many cooks in one kitchen…

Author’s Note: Written for Ayesha’s 1K Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt, Screw you. Thanks @browngirlmagic​ for letting me play with this prompt!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: References to sexy times, no actual smut, though (sorry).

Word Count: 2,500ish

The bickering has officially gotten out of control, snotty remarks and vicious glares now giving way to an out-and-out shouting match in the common room.

Not cool. Off-days at the compound are typically pretty chill… death-defying missions, intensive training sessions, and hours-long debriefs being enough to suck the life out of all of you until your only remaining desire is for peace and quiet. Especially at breakfast time… especially pre-coffee.

But calm is simply not on the menu today. Not when Bucky waltzes in – still gross and sweaty from his morning run – and declares – with the petulant air of a spoiled-rotten child – that he doesn’t want any of the eggs you’ve so kindly prepared for him.

Your face twists, lips pinch. That smoldering fire in your gut blazing back to life yet again as you shriek, “Why the hell did I bother making them, then?!” before tossing the half-full pan into the sink.

Sam bristles at the sheer decibel of your voice, his own a mere whisper in comparison when he sets down his coffee and announces, “I would’ve eaten them.”

Gradually, other teammates filter into the common room – as Bucky growls out a bitter retort and you angrily grab the pan and repeatedly slam it into the sink – just to see what all the fuss is about.

Steve lingers in the doorway and lets out giant huff, fisted hands falling to his hips as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What the hell has gotten into you two?” he asks, a hint of concern bleeding through the frustration. “One minute you’re all…” He makes an awkward, waving motion with his hands, almost wincing when he says, “can’t keep your hands off each other…”

“It’s really pretty gross,” Natasha interjects as she rounds the counter in search of coffee.

Steve’s brows shoot high as if to say, uh, yeah, before he finishes with, “Now it’s like you’re leading separate forces into World War III.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. Leave it to the Captain to turn your little lovers’ quarrel into a battle metaphor. “He’s being a dick,” you announce with a sharp lilt, dropping the pan for a final time and spinning to stare Bucky down. You fold your arms tightly across your chest, lean your hip into the side of the sink, and glower at the man. “That’s what’s gotten into us.”

Bucky’s face cracks into a smug sneer. And he laughs – a short, sardonic chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. “That is not what got into us, sweetheart.”

You shoot him an icy glare, voice low and dangerous as you emit through tightly gritted teeth, “You can’t keep making out like this is all my fault. You agreed to it.”

His steely countenance shifts, eyes widening and jaw falling slack, expression cloaked in utter disbelief. “Because you said you wanted to. You fucking told me it would count as your birthday present.”

Steve takes two large strides into the room, impatience sloughing off of him in waves. “What is going on?” he laments thickly. “Seriously!”

You turn to him, tense hands falling to your hips in an agitated posture that mirrors his own. And you spill. “We had a three-way with the girl from the coffee shop and now he’s all…” You wave a dismissive hand in Bucky’s general direction, “pissed about it.”

Silence. Pure, deep, penetrating silence rings throughout the room.

Steve blinks – once, twice – as he tries to process your words. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out finally. “What?”

Bucky sighs, long and languid, before twisting towards you, his face an odd mix of solemn reproach and barely contained amusement. “Who’s the one person I said could never know about this?”

You snort out a laugh – a quick, inadvertent sputter of absolute delight – and keep Steve’s gaping expression in your line of sight as you lean into Bucky and ask, “Is he having a stroke?”

Sam jumps up then, shoving his stool away from the breakfast bar with a piercing scrape along the hardwood floor. He waves a hand distractedly through the air, waits for you to turn, and then – brow deeply furrowed – he mutters simply, “Wait. You had a threesome?”

In tandem, you and Bucky both offer matching slow nods.

Natasha slinks forward, sly smile on her face barely hidden by the mug of hot coffee that she delicately brings to her lips. A slow sip as she stands by your side, staring you down assessingly. “The blonde?” she inquires with a lilt.

You turn to face her, give another nod. “Yeah… the blonde. Sarah… something.”

One corner of her lips quirk higher, pure amusement lighting her eyes. “The one who’s always coming on to you,” she mutters, raising a single brow high. There’s no question in her voice. Doesn’t need to be.

Before you can say a word, Bucky barks from behind, “Exactly,” and lets out an irritated huff. “I don’t even know why I was there.”

You spin round on a heel, your face mere inches from his as you hiss out, “Oh, screw you.”

“That’s all I was hoping for, sweetheart,” he says with a too calm affectation. He reaches around you to grab a mug of coffee for himself, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours. “But you went and made it weird.”

“Weird?” Sam scoffs, brow still furrowed, eyes now narrowed. “Man, I’ve see that chick. She is hot. You were in bed – naked – with two damn hot women. And it was weird?”

He shakes his head, nose crinkled in something akin to disgust. His gaze veers pensively away as he takes a sip of coffee, words flowing languidly out of him as though prudently narrating the memory playing in his mind’s eye. “It was a just a bunch of… arms and legs…”

Natasha gnaws at the corner of her lip, voice barely above a whisper when she bites out from over your shoulder, “Don’t think you were doing it right.”

His gaze ices over as he turns on her, glaring daggers. But she simply wiggles her eyebrows in response, her attention only returning to the rest of the group when Sam lets out a low whistle and a rather wistful, “Hot arms and legs.”

“You don’t get it,” Bucky snarls, jaw ticking as he drops his mug to the counter with a thunk and leans forward heatedly. “It’s not hot to watch your girlfriend get… get… plowed by someone else.”

An annoyed groan bubbles out of you. “You’re being dramatic,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “She was totally into you.”

“She didn’t even know I was there,” he responds, tone low and subdued as he turns back to face you, the heat from his still-sweating body pooling in the small space between the two of you.

“How could she not know you were there?” you ask, raising a teasing brow, hoping to crack his sour expression. “Your penis was inside of her.”

Steve lets out an audible gasp, air pulling in between his tightly gritted teeth with a horrified whistle.

“I was never inside of her,” Bucky announces, ignoring his friend’s reaction and keeping his stare trained on you.

“Well, why the hell not?!” you ask, voice rising in both volume and pitch. You give him a little shove back, a mostly playful pop to his chest with the heel of your hand. “I picked her because you obviously have a thing for her.”

His brows twist in absolute confoundment as he stares unblinkingly at you. “What?”

“You’re always staring at her when we go get coffee… watching her,” you try, shoulders rising in a short, baffled shrug.

“I’m always keeping one eye on her because it’s obvious she’s after my girl.”

The fire in your core flares, burning up your neck and heating your cheeks in an angry flush. “If you really think that, then… then… why did you agree to do it?!”

He pulls away, taking a single large step back to widen the distance between you. “Because you wanted to,” he spits out, face twisting into an incredulous snarl. “You said it’d be fun. You… you…”

You stare at him, both brows raised, waiting for him to stop sputtering and finish his thought.

But all you get is, “You know what? Screw you.”

“Very mature,” you snipe, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Mature?!” His hands fly up into the air, exasperation peppering the wild movement. “You just… cheated on me. In my own bed. With me in it!”

“Wait a minute,” Sam says suddenly, tone painfully serious. “This happened here? In this compound? With hot coffee blonde? When? Where was I?”

You ignore his vapid inquiries, the heat between you and Bucky too consuming to allow your attention to be pulled away from the argument at hand. “That’s not what happened, and you know it.” You watch as his angry expression cracks, just a bit. “I did this for you,” you say, tone almost pleading. “Because I thought you’d like it. Because you were so… bored.”

He pulls back, face pinching tightly. “Bored? What the hell are you talking about?”

A short breath catches in your chest, candid – aching – words spilling out like stinging bile the moment you release it. “You used to be all over me… every minute of the day.” You pause just long enough to choke back a thick swell of emotion, the earnest depths of his gentle, too-blue eyes drowning you in all the care and concern swimming within them. “When… when was the last time we fucked in a supply closet?” you ask, tone tender and imploring. “Or on the elevator?”

“Whoa,” Steve blurts out. “What?!”

Natasha merely shakes her head dolefully as she continues to loom over your shoulder, idly sipping her coffee. “I really need to get into the security footage around here.”

But you couldn’t care less about the others in the room, nor their reactions. Not when Bucky steps close and pulls your hands into his grip. His head gives a small, hesitant shake and he locks onto your eyes. “Baby, I’m not bored. I just… we don’t need to do that shit anymore. We’re not still sneaking around.”

You drop your gaze, glance down at the large hands – one warm flesh, one cool metal – tenderly encasing yours. “I just… I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up into a cocky, crooked grin. “And you thought that you could prevent that by bringing in someone else for me to fuck?”

You shrug, still not looking up. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Man,” Sam breathes out from behind. “Where are you two getting your tips on how to spice up a relationship? Penthouse?”

You roll your eyes, tossing the Falcon a quick glare before – finally – looking back up at Bucky. “Fine. It was a bad idea. And an… awkward night.” You let out a sigh and slip from his grip, leaning heavily back into the counter before grumbling, “And, yes, there were too many… limbs and… appendages in the bed. And… and…” You shake your head absently, throwing your hands flippantly into the air. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know what I was grabbing… or who. I’m pretty sure I spent five minutes cupping my own boob.”

“No, that was me,” Bucky corrects quickly, just before a look of confusion washes over his face. “Unless that wasn’t your boob…”

You pull in a deep, settling breath, release it as an almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah, okay. Bad idea.”

“We only have a queen-sized bed,” he mutters, brows pitching high as his gaze trails off into space. “I don’t know what made you think there’d even be enough room for the three of us. I spent half the night with one foot on the floor.”

“She kept pulling my hair,” you lament lamely as you reach up to idly rub your still-sore scalp.

“No, that was me too,” he says with a shake of his head. “Didn’t mean to, but I was falling off the damn bed and you were the closest thing to grab hold of.”

“And there was so much… sweat,” you mutter with a disgusted lilt, looking up and connecting with Bucky’s far-off gaze, the two of you sharing a wholly commiserate slow nod. “Like a whole ‘nother body’s worth of sweat.”

“Yeah, why do you think I kept slipping.” He shrugs. “That, and I kept catching elbows from the barista any time I got too close.”

You snort out a laugh and curl into yourself – into him – an errant apology brewing in your chest, choking out of you in a pitiful grunt that only Bucky could possibly comprehend. “She said she was into it… into you.”

He lays his metal hand atop yours as it sits on the counter, twines your fingers together and gives a subtle squeeze. “Baby, that girl only had eyes for you.” Another shrug. “Not that I can blame her.”

“Okay, enough,” Steve says finally, his rather appalled demeanor giving way to an irritated expression and an utterly exasperated tone. “I’m sorry I ever asked. I didn’t want to know about… any of this. So why don’t you two just… go away, finish… making up… and let the rest of us figure out a way to scrub our brains clean?”

Just then Tony glides into the common room, “Scrub our brains clean of what?” falling casually from his lips as he heads for the kitchenette. He sidesteps Steve and reaches out to grab an apple from the counter, taking a giant bite before asking, mouth full and juicy, “What are we all talking about?”

Natasha sighs lightly, taking a final drink of coffee before setting her mug into the sink without so much as a clink. “The two love birds here had a three-way with the cute blonde from the coffee shop around the corner,” she recounts. “Only it turned out to be more of a… two-way with Barnes left on the outside looking in.”

Tony spins around towards Bucky, face an oddly expressionless mask. “Still worth the view, though?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Hm.” He takes another bite of apple before glancing over at Steve, swallows thickly and inquires, with a single brow raised high, “Take it the old man is none too pleased about your sexual escapades?”

Bucky shrugs and distractedly gives your hand another small squeeze. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“So I shouldn’t pull the footage from the south elevator to show at this year’s Christmas party?”

“Not if you want to make it to New Year’s.”

“Cute. Threats. Real nice.” Tony snickers under his breath, grabs another apple for the road, and turns to leave. “Don’t worry, Cap,” he says, stopping to pat Steve on the shoulder on his way out. “I’ve had all the communal spaces they’ve communed on thoroughly sanitized.” He tosses a quick glance back at you and Bucky, mutters, “Repeatedly,” with a raised brow, and sashays away.

Sam shakes his head impassively, beguiling twinkle bursting in his eye as he watches Steve recoil with a thick, disturbed sigh before he too turns and flees the room. “We’re living in a den of depravity,” the delighted Falcon breathes out, looking to you and offering a sly wink. “And, damn it… I like it.”

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #avengers fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader