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mzjmesa · 3 years

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Out Loud | Chloe Decker

She was a good detective. Is. The pride of the office, the officer praised here and there. Your partner. Your bestfriend. Detective Chloe Decker. It wasn't because of her smart, genius mind that attracted you to her, no. Well, sometimes, anyway. But it could've been alot of reasons, loving Chloe Decker. And you would've loved any other reasons— to make this easier, to make the feelings disappear sooner. Because whatever the attraction was, it was unprofessional— Chloe never did unprofessional. And you fear if you couldn't hold it any longer, she'd run away from you.

You can't bear that.

But you loved Chloe either way. You loved her eyes, her kindness, that bright and knowing smile that goes with her eyes, you loved the way her lips part when she's about to say something defensive— you loved her. You loved her the most when she knocks at your door and asks how you're doing. You loved the late night talks and laughs about freshmen days which was rare, because she never spent so much time in highschool, she got unending stories about it anyway. You loved the way she listens. You loved her. You loved Chloe Decker. And as she passes by your desk, to the man she likes, you reminded yourself that it was wrong. Wrong because you were supposed to be happy for her.

A knock on your desk drifted your thoughts away, Dan. “How are we doing?” he asked, if he'd caught you staring enviously at Chloe and Lucifer, he hadn't mind.

“How are we doing?” You repeated stupidly, still hungover from yesterday. Which by the way was Chloe's fault, you just wouldn't admit it to yourself.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah? I sent you files to look at, remember?”

Oh.

You shake your head as though it would help you focus on the present and tried to remember where you had placed the papers. You checked your drawers, trying hard to block out Chloe and Lucifer's voices. You busied your hand flipping through dozens of papers, vividly remembering the file's name.

Jonathan Flinn's. Ahh. Case closed for 2 months, there wasn't much evidence of the murder, but the majority linked to him, and eventually the court pronounced him guilty. There had been questions left unsolved, and if Espinoza wasn't up to anything, it would've been left at that.

You sighed, “Have you talked to Chloe about this?”

“Yeah,” He looked past your shoulder to where Chloe was, then back to you. “she thinks it's a bad idea.”

Of course she did. You did, too. That was a thing between you two, something about your guts always telling you the same what's what. That's why you were partnered with her, and you would've loved to continue being one (although truth be told, you still were in papers anyway) but she'd found a consultant, a batshit crazy one at that. Lucifer Morningstar. Always telling himself he's the devil, going on and about his everyday life like anyone gives a damn, and always making everything about himself. If he wasn't charming, and a ‘friend’ of Chloe's, you would've hated him. Most times you did. But times when Chloe was down, he was always the first to cheer her up. You used to be the one doing that, until he came.

“You should listen to her, Dan.”

“Oh c'mon! I would've agreed with Chloe and wouldn't have come to you if it weren't so important. His mother is my god—”

“—mother. Yes, yes, I know that, Dan. I know you think this is a good idea to pay her back, too. But it's not, trust me. Trust Chloe.” You exhaled, feeling the weight of her stare on your back. “It could go worst anyway, what when we can't find any evidence or if we do, worst case scenario is it'll only lead to him. Again. We'll just worsen his situation.”

Dan sighed, massaging his jaw with exasperation because he knew you were right. And also because as much as he pretends not to care too much, he does. You loved that about him.

As you heard footsteps behind, you handed back the files to Dan who hid it behind his back, masking his irritation with a smile to Chloe.

You ignored her, lingering your eyes on the missing button of Dan's shirt.

“Ella found some prints, we haven't identified it yet but it's likely our lead.” Chloe started just behind you, and you knew Lucifer was beside her as much as you hated it. “In the meantime, Dan? I'd like to discuss to you about the Flinn case, Lucifer and I went back to the crime scene yesterday. We found nothing.”

Dan frowned. “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“I know, I know. I... ugh... well I went over it again, anyway.”

A small smile creeped on his face, and you were almost sure his eyes were watering when Lucifer jumped on the conversation about his father, bla bla bla. You couldn't care less. Chloe did, and that should be enough for Lucifer. She'd always been enough for you. You bit your lips, wishing you could busy your hands with something. Anything. But your desk was on your back, and oh, Chloe, too.

It felt immature and all, but you were hurting just knowing they were together, seeing them would break you.

“I'll check in on with Ella.” Chloe announced, “(Y/N)?”

“Are you having a stroke Miss (L/N)? Staying still like a trained robot, you're scarying me— and believe when I say I rarely get scared.” Lucifer added.

Oh you believe alright. And robots are trained?! Trying to hide your feelings with a forced smile, you turned around, making sure you weren't going to make an eye contact with a certain detective, and immediately grabbed a random paper and pen you can hold— scribbling anything. Anything at all.

“I'm alright.” You answered after a beat or two, still unbothered to look. Who would want to, honestly.

Chloe cleared her throat, whispered something to Lucifer, and then bid goodbye. It was then when you looked at them walking away. Lucifer's hand on her back, Chloe looking small beside him— your chest aching the same, if not, more.

You're definitely not gonna look again.

You had a week off work, and you'd almost fell to your knees thanking God when the lieutenant told you. You needed it more than you needed Chloe, which proves just how important it was— Chloe had been. Still is, by the way.

It was 8 am, by now Chloe would be at her desk, examining or making reports, or on a crime scene with Ella and, Lucifer. You snapped out of your mind, reminding yourself you'd needed the vacation because work and particularly Chloe had been stressing you out and very much so hurting you.

You'd hit the beach, go to the mountains for the view,— you didn't wanna hike though, you needed rest not making sweats— visit your sister and niece, and then finally bake while blasting Taylor Swift because admit it or not, you're much broken than your grandmother's vase.

When the water was hot enough, you took a bath and dressed. A peach-colored tank top that comes along with a brown mini skirt and a coat was your outfit for the day. Only, the coat reminded you too much of Chloe's. She liked coats. And that coat, back then warning you that she'd steal it eventually. So you changed with other coats, just didn't fit well with the shirt and skirt, so you gave in and left your hair untouched and untied. Grabbing your pouch and your gun— a licensed one, just in case. And opened your door. You would've preferred the bright sky and fresh air of the morning in LA. But Chloe Decker was standing there, fist on air as if she'd been ready to knock.

You froze.

Were you having a stroke? Most likely.

“(Y/N).”

“Chloe.”

Wasn't she supposed to be at work? You didn't mind either way, but it surprised you still, she hadn't been visiting much since... Lucifer. Everything's just been different since he arrived, not in a good way for you.

You stepped aside, not saying anything since you figured out a human wouldn't understand any word that comes out of your mouth. She went in, instead of sitting on your couch like the old days, she lingered on the living room, standing and looking at you.

Most times you hadn't mind.

She started, “How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“No, (Y/N). How are you?”

You didn't know what to say. Or why she'd ask a question as that. “I'm not—”

“Do you like me?”

What.

Your face must've given the shock, because she answered your unasked question. “Dan said some things. I'm-I'm not— you're not transferring, are you?”

Oh you're definitely gonna choke the life out of Dan. But knowing him, he wouldn't have spit it out too easily. He was probably drunk and didn't mean it. Still, you wished you said it to Chloe yourself. About the liking and transferring.

You remained silent, reading the expression on Chloe's face. Was she sad? Upset? After years of knowing her, you would've known right away. But now you couldn't. And you fear you might've forgotten the every detail of her face, too.

“(Y/N)...” Her voice gave out, carrying every sadness within. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“About what?” You answered stupidly in a whisper, fearing that if you came into your senses everything would feel too real.

“About everything! About— about your feelings for me. About Seatte. About why you've been so far from me!”

“You have been far from me, Chloe.”

She frowns, and you knew millions and billions and gazillions of questions where popping in her mind.

Tears in your eyes were forming, and you hated it, all of this. She wasn't supposed to know at all. She wasn't supposed to know you had immature feelings for her. Wasn't supposed to know you were transferring atleast 'till next month. But Chloe wasn't dumb, and you should've known that.

Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat, her breathing heavy. “We could've talked about it.”

“We haven't talked much at all these days because of—” you cut yourself off, rolling your eyes at how sick it feels. You hated yourself for it, but you continued anyway. “Because of Lucifer.”

She exhaled. “Lucifer and I are complicated.”

“I know that, Chloe.” You said firmly, meeting her gaze pitying you. Of course she pities you. “I also know you like him so much. I know you've been crying when he fake married that Candy. I know you've been sick worrying when he can't answer your texts or calls. I know you've gone lengths trying to understand him. I know. I know so much so that I didn't wanna be so selfish and tell you things you didn't wanna hear because it'll make your complicated relationship with Lucifer even more complicated. I fucking know. And I loved you too much.”

Chloe's tears were beginning to fall, one by one, slowly. And it hurts you to see her like this. Especially because you know you caused it.

“It was never my intention to push you away. You're my friend— can't we just stay like this?” She asked in a soft, breaking voice. And if it wasn't Chloe you would've said yes because people are easy to move on from. But it was indeed Chloe and she was... not like anyone you know. She was a missing piece of your puzzle. Only, you have never been a piece of hers.

“I love you, Chloe.”

It was weird, saying it out loud, to her. You never thought you could, knowing you were a coward than every cowards combined.

You did though, and that must've pulled something. Because Chloe approached you, side hugged, and then left.

So much for a vacation.

You spent the night crying.

Chloe Decker spent hers with the man she loved. And you were never that man.

#chloe decker x reader #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #netflix #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #wlw #angst #angsty #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfurt #hurt comfort

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bucky-hues · 3 years

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stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

#stucky fic #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

139 notes · View notes

xxwritemeastoryxx · 3 years

Text

A life With You Chapter 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Mason Lockwood x Reader, Eventual Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Requested: Can I have an Elijah x Pregnant!Reader? Not his baby, but he loves her and is willing to be the legal father of the baby 🥺 I need fluff in my life lmao ✨👌 -Anon

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Nothing in this one. Just setting up the story for us.

Author’s Note: Oh look! A new series! Welcome to the first chapter of A life with you. I had an idea for a hallmarkish story and this is what came of a request that I had gotten. I do hope you guys enjoy it. While this will be an Elijah x reader endgame it will be a while before we catch a glimpse of Elijah. So bare with me okay? 🙈

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

<< Series Masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

“This isn’t some walk in the park!” Damon yelled at Y/N as he took a step closer to her. “This isn’t just some chance to prove that you can handle things! We’re talking about your life.”

“You don’t get to make this decision for me.” Y/N said as she shook her head. Her hand on her bag filled with her gear. She was set out to leave in just minutes. “We both knew what would happen when we signed up for this.”

Y/N moved to walk past Damon. The moment she did, Damon grabbed a hold of her arm, causing her to turn back to him. “We may have signed up for this, but I didn’t sign up to watch you agree to a suicide mission.”

A sad smile pulled at her lips as she brought her hand up to Damon’s face and placed it on his cheek. As she looked up at him, she didn’t say anything at first. She couldn’t get her thoughts out as she wanted to. “I’ll always come home to you. That isn’t going to change with this mission.”

Damon’s hand came up to place his hand on top of hers as he watched her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it quickly before shaking his head and laughing a moment later.

“Cut!” The director called out.

Y/N chuckled as she watched Damon take a step away from her. “It’s it really that hard to tell me you love me?” She joked.

“It’s kind of hard when you’re making faces where the camera can’t see you.” He chuckled causing Y/N to laugh.

“That’s definitely payback for yesterday’s go of things.” She said with a nod and it was Damon’s turn to laugh.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would.” He said with a shake of his head.

"I may be new to the field, but it definitely takes a lot to break me.” She said with a smirk.

“Alright, let's get our Scarlet and Jason back into their places and take it from the top.” The director called out before Y/N and Damon found themselves back on their marks at the beginning of the scene.

After four more takes, the scene had come out flawlessly. Damon and Y/N had managed to go through the scene without any jokes or pranks in the process. The heartbreaking goodbye between Scarlett and Jason perfected before getting a break.

"What do you plan on doing tomorrow?" Damon asked as he and Y/N began to walk off the set.

"I'm not sure. Knowing Mason he might have something planned.” Y/N didn’t miss the way that Damon’s face dropped.

“Well, if the two of you aren’t doing anything, Elena and I are having a barbeque at the rental since she’s coming out here for a visit.” Damon offered.

It definitely wasn’t a secret that Damon didn’t like Mason. There were a few times where the cast and their loved ones got together on their days off. But no matter how many times Damon interacted with Mason, there was always something that gave him a bad vibe.

Damon had grown to care for Y/N as a close friend. With the vibe that he constantly felt coming off of Mason, he was never sure if he should cross those boundaries with her. They were co-stars who were becoming friends. He’d hate to overstep his boundaries by telling Y/N the man she was with wasn’t liked by not just him but a few of the others on set as well.

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” Y/N said with a nod of her head. “How long is she staying for this time?”

“Just for a few days.” As they passed a table with an assortment of food, he reached over and grabbed a doughnut and continued to walk. “The kids are coming since it’s spring break, they can’t stay longer.”

A smile pulled at Y/N’s lips at the mention of Damon’s kids before she chuckled at the way he eyed the doughnut before shoving half of it into his mouth. “I��m sure they are going to love coming out. I can’t wait to see them again.”

“Oh they’ll definitely love that.” He said a moment later. “They just can’t get enough of their favorite new actress.”

Y/N chuckled. “It was the princess role, wasn’t it?”

“Wait, you were a princess?” His words had caused Y/N to smack his arm, causing him to chuckle.

Y/N only had a few titles under her belt. But with the growing success of the movies she’s starred in, the more roles she was being offered. Including one being a Princess that Damon’s kids had watched and loved. That was how he knew Y/N when she introduced herself to him.

“Y/N!” Hearing her name had caused them both to turn and look in the direction of where they heard it.

Seeing as someone was waving her from the hair and makeup trailer, Y/N knew it was time for her to become bloodied and bruised for the next several scenes that she needed to shoot. It made Y/N sigh before she looked over at Damon.

“Back to the chair I go.” She said before she turned to leave.

“Enjoy the prosthetics.” He said with a smirk pulling at his lips. “I just need a touch up.”

“Remember who the hero is in this one, Salvatore.” She called over her shoulder, causing Damon to shake his head quickly.

“I’ll see you for the next scene together, Y/L/N.” He said before walking away.

The sound of the door shutting had caught Mason’s attention. The moment Y/N walked through the doors, there was as if there was this relief that had washed over her. She kicked off her shoes before she walked further into the house, finding Mason lounging on the couch.

Unlike Damon, who had a house he was renting for the time being, Y/N lived close enough to the studio that she wasn't confined to a rental or even her trailer. The last several scenes that were being filmed were no longer on location, giving her the opportunity to unwind in her own home.

"I've got a spot with your name on it that gives a full foot massage." Mason called over his shoulder as his eyes trained on the screen before him.

It caused Y/N to laugh, but she practically ran to the couch and plopped herself on to it. She placed her feet onto Mason's lap as a smile grew on her lips. "Massage away."

"How was your day?" He asked as he brought his hands to her foot and began applying pressure to the bottom of it.

"A lot of retakes." She said as she rested her head on the back of the couch as she watched him. “A lot of stunt work that I tried to be a part of, but didn’t work out.” They both chuckled at the same time. “Thankfully tomorrow we get a day off and I can rest. Speaking of which, Damon invited us over for a barbeque. Elena and the kids will be in town.”

Mason’s eyebrow raised. “You would think the man would want to spend time with his family instead of having people over.”

“He loves showing his kids who he is working with.” Y/N said with a small smile pulling at her lips. “I happen to be their favorite person right now. Plus it would be nice to hang out with everyone without being on set and in make up.”

“I don’t know.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’d like to spend the one day you get off with you. Preferably doing something here or going hiking or something.”

Y/N sighed. “You of all people should know why I need to go to simple barbecues such as this one.”

It sometimes confused her why Mason had been so stubborn about it. She and Mason had been together since she was in college. For as many parties and get togethers she dragged him to, he should have been understanding. This was how she met the friends of friends. Friends who were producers and directors. Ones that were willing to take chances and she was all for being that chance.

“But when it’s the same people you see at work every day?” He asked. “That’s not gaining you anything.”

“Maybe all I need are friends.” She said as she sat up and pulled her feet off of his lap. “Friends are needed too. We both need them. We moved away from all of ours and I know that hasn’t been easy for both of us.”

Mason stood up from his spot and ran his hand through his hair. “Making friends out here is only a convenience once they find out who I’m dating. It’s quite fascinating how many people want to be friends with your boyfriend.”

Y/N looked down. “We talked about this once.” She said after a moment. “I asked you if you’d be able to handle this. I asked several times if you believed you could handle how things are going to change. And each time you said you could. So I’ll ask you once more. Can you handle that our lives are going to change because of the work I will be doing?”

Mason kept his eyes on her as he thought it over for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Y/N nodded her head. She didn’t think that there would ever be a time where Mason had wanted an out. For as long as they had been together, Mason had been there by her side. He helped her run lines for auditions and was there for her through filming, press tours and even premieres.

Through all of those times, she hadn’t felt like he had changed in any way. That he was still going to be by her side and now, there was that part of her that was now worried. Worried that maybe she had been blind to the changes while she was enjoying the time she had while working on different projects.

“Okay.” She said after a moment. “Think it over. Take the time you need to figure out if this is what you really want.” She tried to keep the tears that wanted to form at bay, but it had been hard to do so. “Tomorrow I’ll go to Damon’s for a little bit and then I’ll be home.”

Before Mason could say anything, she began to leave the room. She knew that he was going to need his space. This was something he needed to do on his own and she couldn’t influence his decision. She didn’t want to be the reason that he wasn’t happy there with her. She didn’t want them to begin to hate each other before they broke up.

_____

“What’s your poison?” Damon asked as Y/N as he opened the ice chest filled with a variety of drinks.

She chuckled and reached for the bottle of water that was in there. That had caused Damon to raise his brow while he watched her take it. Seeing his reaction she shrugged. “I have an earlier call time than you do tomorrow. I’d like not to be hungover while sitting in a makeup chair for three hours.”

“Don’t let him fool you.” Elena said as she walked over and grabbed a few of the juices for the kids. “He’s got an early call time too, he'll be bitching in the morning when he has to be hanging from wires and hungover.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love that you give me ammunition against your husband?” Y/N said with a grin on her face.

“A time or two.” Elena said with a grin. “Is Mason stopping by later?”

Y/N tried to keep her face from falling. After Y/N left the living room last night, Mason stayed there the whole night. And when Y/N got up this morning, he had been gone. She had no doubt that he was getting a run in or just trying to find somewhere to think about things like Y/N wanted him to.

“He had a few things he needed to take care of.” It wasn’t a lie, since Mason did have things he needed to be doing at that moment. “If he manages to get things done before we call it a night, I’m sure he’ll come.”

“Good.” Damon said with a nod. “Then I can get ammunition from him to use against you.” A smirk pulled at his lips before bringing a bottle of beer to his lips and taking a drink.

Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I highly doubt that. He’s on my side, remember?”

“Ouch.” Damon said looking between her and Elena. “You’ve turned my wife against me and I can’t even get the same opportunity with your boyfriend.” He placed his hand on his chest, feigning hurt.

Y/N could easily see through it, as did Elena. They both knew that Damon was definitely playing nice. He wasn’t going to overstep without actually needing to. While Elena could play it off as girl talk, Damon was hoping that Mason was a no show tonight.

Laughter had come from the adults as they sat around eating their dinner. Several cast and crew had shown up for the evening. Damon and Elena ensuring their guests were completely comfortable. There wasn't a single moment of awkwardness for Y/N and she loved that.

"You missed it, Elena." Lexi said starting up the next conversation. "The prank Y/N had pulled on set was the best I've seen done."

"Please tell me it was on Damon." Elena asked, looking from Lexi to Y/N.

Y/N chuckled and nodded. "Oh it was."

"Now I have to hear this." Elena said as she got herself ready to hear the story.

Lexi began to talk about how Y/N had managed to switch out Damon's designated clothes with another person. Most of them were already used and bloody. It was never something that made Y/N queasy in the slightest. But the way Lexi had been explaining things had made Y/N’s stomach turn. In a way that she could no longer sit there and hope that the feeling would go away.

With a quick ‘excuse me’, Y/N took off towards the house. Her pace was hopefully slow enough that it wouldn’t draw questions, but quick enough that she was sure that she’d make it in time. Her only thought was that was getting to the restroom that was on the first floor of the house.

Even as she entered through the back sliding glass doors, she didn’t notice the men that were in the kitchen chatting away. Their voices blurred out as she passed them. Her mind didn’t even register that Damon had called out to her, asking if she was okay.

She barely had time to shut the door behind her before she made it to the toilet. The contents of her stomach coming up instantly. It hadn’t been the first time today that she had to stop what she was doing and make a run from the restroom. Today wasn’t even the first day either.

As her stomach continued to heave to remove the contents of it, her thoughts had played out the last few days. From the moment that she had taken the test, things had changed rather quickly. While she was in her last week of filming it was how the rest of her life had changed.

She was going to tell Mason last night. She was going to show him the test before they had gone to bed. But then they had their argument and her plans changed. Her mind was racing with how things should be done now. Especially now since she was currently at a barbeque with everyone she works with and the father of her child wasn’t there.

Once her stomach had emptied and there was nothing left to give, she flushed the toilet before making her way over to the sink to not only rinse out her mouth, but to wet her face. She was hoping that she’d be able to calm herself before she left the bathroom. So that she could hopefully play it off as something else. At least for now.

After a few moments of taking some time to get herself in order, she opened the door to head back to everyone else. As she did, she found Damon leaning against the hall besides the entryway of the door. At first there was a look of worry on his face. That was before realization in him hit as he took in her appearance.

His eyes moved from her to down the hallway for a moment, before looking back at her. “I’d ask a stupid question, but I think I know the answer.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to form at his words. “And what is the answer?”

Damon gave a small chuckle. “Elena has been pregnant twice. The water all day while I know for a fact, you can hold yourself when it comes to taking alcohol and an early call time. First clue there. Then it made sense as to what happened during our first take yesterday.”

He wasn’t wrong. During the first take of the day, Y/N needed to make a run for the bathroom. She had pulled it off as something not sitting right with her. It seemed to work with everyone, but it was now enough for Damon to start putting the pieces together.

All Y/N could do was nod in that moment. Words couldn’t form as she tried to pull herself together that the thoughts she had moments before had gone out the window. But there was a part of her that felt relief that someone else knew.

“Mason doesn’t know yet.” She said a moment later. “I was going to tell him last night, but we got into an argument and it just didn’t feel like the right time to tell him.”

“Well, he definitely knows now.” Mason’s voice carried from down the hall.

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write):

@xoxo-nikki-xoxo @mrs-jackson-kenner

Always and Forever Tags (All things TVDU):

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife @elijahs-wife @moon-child-writer @swearingsolemnly @hey-there-angels @akshi8278 @imgoingtofreakoutnow @r13mar

A Life With You:

@remembered-license

Stag Tag: (All Things Elijah Mikaelson)

@elejah-wonderland @xxsovereignsarayaxx @asiaaisa77 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @marvel-at-stucky @silvermercy @cassiopeia-black-brenda

Bold Tags mean for one reason or another I cannot tag you in this. If you would like to be added to, or taken off, the tags, please do so here!

The Originals Tag: (All Things The Originals)

@zillahvathek @obsessedwithvampires @akshi8278 @malfoys-demigod

134 notes · View notes

wonhaebunny · 4 years

Note

💘📂💘📂💘📂💘

back on my anxiety!katsuki bullshit!!

this is a long one lol

skip this paragraph if you like, it's mostly me uselessly waffling about my day lol,,, anyways so. for context, i'm not a huge partygoer. i usually have fun for an hour or two, and immediately my social meter hits zero and i want to go home again. but TODAY. today my friends and i had this lovely picnic where we sat on a rug in a park and just read books. we each had our own books, and we sat there and read in silence, and it was quite possible the nicest afternoon i've had in months. comfortable silence, background music, some nice food. pure therapeutic goodness. a shot of serotonin to the bloodstream. anyways idk why i said all that it was just an unnecessary piece of context but here is the hc:

katsuki never comes on bakusquad outings. he's the first to shoot their plans down, before they even develop them fully.

he's always got "better shit to do", or he "doesn't want to waste time on losers".

it's a little hurtful at first, but very much in-character, and eijirou is left fumbling as he tries to explain to them that katsuki isn't normally like this.

but frankly? eijirou is confused too.

katsuki has always been receptive to hanging out with him, whether it be a weekend hike, training, or just chilling and watching movies in either of their dorm rooms.

but the second the bakusquad tries to bring up some plans to hang out together, katsuki shuts them down instantly. and eijirou knows katsuki doesn't hate them, has seen it in the way the blonde will tutor them through the night and smirk at their shenanigans in class when he thinks no one's looking. so why is he so adamant about the outings?

but after the first dozen times, they accept it. they never stop asking, though.

just in case.

and then the day comes. it's lunchtime, and the squad is hunched at the cafeteria trying to make plans for the weekend.

"the weather's lovely on saturday, what about a picnic?" mina asks hopefully.

denki and hanta look a little reluctant at the idea of it, while eijirou looks noncommittal.

mina pouts at the reactions.

"you'll come, won't you, bakugou?" she whines.

she's teasing, obviously, tone light and airy.

so when bakugou grunts back a quiet, "fuckin' whatever," her jaw drops, along with everyone else at the table.

"you'll come?" she asks again, more seriously this time, but still trying to keep her voice casual.

the blonde gifts her with a sharp look that signals he'll change his mind if she pushes any further.

"that's what i fuckin' said, right?" he mutters.

mina's entire demeanour brightens, but she doesn't mention it again, making katsuki relax imperceptibly in his seat.

"okay!" she announces cheerfully. "well, i've decided i don't care if you guys come anymore! i have this lovely gentleman to keep my company!" she gestures at katsuki, earning a half-hearted snarl.

immediately, the three other boys at the table straighten with indignant cries.

"no way i'm missing it!" denki wails.

"yeah," hanta adds on. "this is the first time we've got the whole squad!"

it's almost comical, how quickly the mood at the table has lifted. they're all almost waiting for bakugou to take it back, or change his mind again. but he doesn't. and so they float through the rest of lunch, blissfully.

and sure enough, that saturday, all five of them head to the park. the other four are slightly anxious that it'd be awkward with katsuki's unfamiliar presence, but the blonde fits into their dynamic seamlessly, even outside the school. he's quiet for the most part, scowl fixed on his face as he trudges with his hands in his pockets, but he makes the occasional quip to let them know he's listening nonetheless.

and when they set down their picnic rug, laying out the food and settling down, katsuki's oddly quiet. he's not complaining like eijirou had expected, simply watching as the others find their places and do their things.

hanta's pulling out a switch, while mina texts someone on her phone lazily and eijirou watches a television show on his.

then, after a moment's deliberation, katsuki sinks down to the corner of the rug, and pulls a book from his bag.

"nerd," hanta coughs inconspicuously not even a moment later, earning a smack upside the head from mina and a sigh from eijurou.

katsuki puffs up, but then denki perks up, cutting off anything he'd planned on saying.

"hey, we're buddies!" he exclaims, holding up his own book excitedly.

at the sight, katsuki's eyes narrow, before he finally relaxes again, turning his attention to his book.

he's... quiet.

completely silent, in a way the other four had not expected at all. because this silence isn't the type they're used to with katsuki. there's no hostility or tension in the air. just the distant sound of birds and nearby traffic.

eijirou can't help stealing glances every few minutes, show abandoned in favour of studying the smoothed-out spot between the blonde's normally-tense brows, the relaxed curve of his typically-scowling lips. when he flicks his gaze around, he sees that the other three are having similar issues. katsuki remains oblivious to it all, immersed in his book and completely unaware of the wondering, awed stares of his companions.

the silence is comfortable, though, and eventually the other four settle down, too.

time passes easily, broken by the occasional rustling or crunching of food.

somewhere around the third hour, mina grows tired of scrolling through her phone and leans back, laying her head on the nearest boy's lap. it's a habit she's grown accustomed to, but she stiffens immediately when she realises exactly whose lap she lays in. but katsuki doesn't shove her off.

he doesn't curse, doesn't scowl, doesn't even acknowledge the movement beyond a subtle tilt of his head. the boy's expression pinches for the briefest of moments, before ever-so-slowly, it dissolces back to its previous state of relaxation.

mina has to fight the urge to grin, biting her lip painfully hard as she turns to shove her face into his thigh, overjoyed.

the others, who are watching the exchange, seem to relax after a few moments without any further reaction. they take it as a signal, finally stretching out and releasing any residual tension they'd been holding.

denki's legs sprawl out, brushing against katsuki's, and eijirou leans sidewards until their shoulders brush slightly.

the blonde keeps reading.

it's... nice.

they'd never thought they'd be able to enjoy something like this with katsuki, but the opportunity is welcome. and honestly? the quiet is a pleasant change for all of them, a stark contrast to their usual boisterous dynamic.

mina dozes off against katsuki's lap, and eventually eijirou sinks down until he's half-slumped against the blonde's side, head resting in the crook of the other's elbow as he watches his show.

when they finally have to leave again, it' almost curfew.

"we should do that again," hanta murmurs, earning sounds of agreement.

the group is relaxed, all of them feeling pleasantly slow and drowsy with the pace of the day. even katsuki looks like he's moving looser than normal, eyes softer and scowl barely-there.

it's a nice day.

the next time they're making plans for the weekend, they all turn to katsuki hopefully.

"what do you say, bakugou? a karaoke night?" denki asks hopefully.

to his disappointment, katsuki doesn't spare him a glance.

"i'd rather fuckin' die," he says flatly.

denki, hanta and mina wilt.

but eijirou just stares.

he examines katsuki for a long, long moment, before a calculating look comes into his eye.

"how about instead of going to karaoke, we do a movie night at the dorms?" he asks carefully.

the other three look a little confused, but shrug.

"yeah, i'm down," mina says, bemused. denki and hanta nod.

"what about you, bakugou?" the red-head asks, as casually as he can muster.

katsuki holds his gaze for an excruciatingly long time, before scoffing.

"fine," he mutters.

eijirou grins, and watches as realisation sets into the eyes of the other three, their expressions brightening with his.

it's okay if katsuki doesn't want to come to all their outings, he thinks to himself, smiling fondly at the unaware blonde.

they understand.

#bakusquad #BAKUSQUAAAD #i love they #folder asks!!#bunny's asks #bunny's drabbles

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 5

I’ve Got Red In My Ledger

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

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The Yiga complex was… well… complex.

All of the halls looked the same, and Zelda backed up against her destroyed door and tried to remember which way she’d come in days ago.

But she was drawing a blank.

“Which way did you come in?” Zelda asked.

Link shook his head and fiddled with his staff weapon, his blue eyes trained on the ground by the tip of the staff where there was a sharp point tied onto the end. It wasn’t even a staff. It was a makeshift spear.

Some rescue party he was a part of.

She stared at him for a long moment. Was he even real? He didn’t know where they were, or where to go. He had a sword on his belt, but he was favoring a giant stick.

Goddess. She was going to die on her way out of here.

“Okay,” she muttered, looking around again. She had to remember something.

The cells were in a long hall. She’d gone through several other small hallways. She’d come out into a large room. She’d been thrown in here.

“Were you in a series of hallways to come in here?” Zelda tried again.

“No. We came from a large, open room.”

Helpful. Finally.

“Okay, which direction? That way, I can rule out one of these paths.”

Link sighed and ran his hand along the wall until he reached the door, and then slid his palm around until he touched the handle. Jerking his head to the left, he turned. “We came from that way.”

Skeptically, she looked between him and the door. Did it just tell him that? He didn’t even look at the room. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay, come on. Your guy should be this way.”

Zelda took a few steps that echoed through the large room, steps that were alone, and unfollowed. She turned to see Link, unmoving.

He sighed. “Urbosa and Daruk. We need them.”

“Who?” Zelda asked.

“The woman who was with me, and a man we’re with. We can’t leave without them, because once we get Revali, we have to move quickly.”

“Are you saying we should just stand here and wait for them? We could get killed.”

“Can you fight?”

Zelda crosse her arms indignantly. “If I have to.”

Link reached for his sword and held it out by the hilt. “You’ll have to. Take it.”

Zelda made her way back towards him. “I fight with a bow, so I don’t know… besides, isn’t this yours?”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“You trust a stranger with your weapon?”

He smiled, soft and gentle before calmly shaking his head. “Not much other choice though. I’m going to have to.”

“You can keep it, you know? Just use it on me if I’m evil.”

He kept his arm out. “You’re making me trust you more and more, Zelda. Take it.”

She reached out and took it from him, the heavy metal dropping her arm quickly before she adjusted to the weight. “Do you fight with that stick or something?”

“If I have to.”

“I don’t understand. Are you a pacifist? Do you only attack doors?”

Link chuckled and spun his staff around in his hands before tapping the point on the ground, the point with the makeshift spearhead tied on. “Doors are terribly dangerous. You should always be ready to attack them.”

“Goddess, you don’t give straight answers, do you?”

Walking ahead of her, he simply grinned. “You’ll get it eventually.”

She was going to follow him before remembering that she was the one leading the way, so she hopped in front. “Get what?”

“Hey!” a new voice called. It was familiar, and Zelda turned to see the tall woman from before returning with an older man in tow. “Where are you two going?”

“Urbosa, she knows where Revali is.”

The tall woman, Urbosa, turned to Zelda. “Is this true? Where?”

“He’s this way,” she said, gesturing back to the hall.

“Nice! Let’s go get ‘em!” the older man said, a bit more excited than Zelda imagined he’d be. He had a white beard that tipped up, wrinkled brows scrunched in excitement, and a toothy grin. He halted when he saw Zelda, and pointed at her. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

Link scoffed. “This is Zelda. She’s a prisoner here, and we’re getting her out too. Zelda, this is Urbosa and Daruk.”

Urbosa gestured to the path. “Pleasantries can wait. Lead on, Little Bird. Show us the way.”

Slowly, carefully, Zelda took the lead and began traversing the winding corridors, trying to remember her last trip through with Ganondorf. The problem was that everything looked the same here! Every hall, every corridor, everything looked the same, even the people in their silly costumes and indistinguishable masks.

“Why did you give her your sword?” she could hear the man asking Link in a hushed voice meant for a private conversation. “She could be one of them.”

“My instincts are better than yours, Daruk. She’s not. Does she look like one of them?”

Daruk sighed. “No. But it doesn’t matter. Under the masks, they’re anyone.”

“So are we.”

Zelda didn’t dare turn around, lest she give herself away. They spoke soft enough that she was straining her ears, and there was an annoying, rhythmic tapping that she couldn’t figure out that kept throwing her off her eavesdropping game.

“Here,” Zelda said, pushing open a door. She peered inside, breathing a sigh of relief to see it empty, and then stood aside to let everyone else through. “Straight down. You’ll see him.”

It was the right room for sure. Even being in here gave Zelda the creeps, and her throat hurt with phantom pain from days before.

She followed the group as they glanced inside each cell before stopping.

“Well, it’s about damn time!” the man said, standing up. “I’d think you almost forgot about me but… that’s just not possible.”

“No matter how hard we try,” Link muttered.

“You brought him?”

“I can leave,” Link offered, gesturing to the door.

But in doing so, he gestured to Zelda, and the blue haired man stuck his head through the bars while Daruk worked on the lock with Urbosa over his shoulder.

“You? You didn’t die. Good for you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Zelda murmured, rolling her eyes, earning a snort from Link.

There was a loud clack, and the lock sprung open.

The man burst out and hurried down the hall past everyone. “Come on!”

“Wait, Revali!” Daruk called, struggling to catch up.

“Ass,” Link breathed, and Urbosa hummed in agreement. “He has no respect. Let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and they ran down the hall, leaving Zelda to catch up with all of them.

Revali seemed to have a better sense of the Yiga hideout than Zelda did. He brought them through a few rooms, ducked around patrols, and ended up in a room with several crates.

“I stashed it all here.”

Daruk, Urbosa, and Link all opened up backpacks that were flat against them, and pried the crates open, reveling packets of rations and emergency on-the-go medicine. They stuffed their pockets full with as much as they could carry before Revali led them back out.

Literally.

Out.

Standing in the middle of a rocky plain, Zelda breathed in the fresh air she’d so desperately been missing.

“Where did you park?” Revali asked.

“Down the road a ways. We’ll have a little hike.”

“Good. I have a little surprise for these assholes.”

Zelda watched on, curious. Revali took something out of his pocket and flashed it to the group.

“What is that?” Urbosa asked.

“A detonator. Before I got caught, I set everything up, and hid it with our things. Let’s clean this place out.”

“No!” Link called, stepping forward, his hand out. He wasn’t quite near Revali, but the man got the message regardless and stopped. “If you do that, we become targets. They know who we are. They’ll find us, and they will kill us.”

“They can’t do that if they’re dead, can they? Ganondorf is in there. Astor. Kogha. All of them. We have to take it down.”

“And what if they’re not? What if they aren’t here? Then we’re the targets. They’ll target home, Revali. Don’t. Don’t hit that button.”

“It’s a switch. And killing hundreds of Yiga in one fell swoop? That’s a win, no matter how you want to swing it.”

“No!”

But Link’s final protest went unheard, because the only sound in the entire valley was the deathly ringing of a chain of explosions, leaving smoke to rise into the air.

Zelda covered her mouth. Dorian was in there. As much as she hated him, he had been her friend for years. And years worth of respect and friendship and history didn’t disappear completely in a matter of days.

“Oh Goddess, Revali,” Urbosa whispered. “What have you done?”

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

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Winner’s Choice

A/N: I only have series-type ideas in mind, so I’m trying to write out short one-shot type fics instead just to pump the breaks a little. Any ideas are welcome but here’s my go at this: you lost a drinking contest to Harry and winner decides a tattoo for the loser...

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"3...2...1...GO!"

I lift the mug to my face and down the beer, ignoring how it splashes over the new top I had worn today. I should've know going out with Harry & Co meant I was getting messy.

Just a second apart, I slam my mug down.

"That was Harry!" The crowd shouts. "Harry's won!"

"It was tied!" I try to shout, ignoring Harry's smug face as his ego rises with the crowd's voice.

"I say rematch!" I shout.

"Don't be a sore loser, love!" Harry shouts at me. I stick my tongue out and hold my empty mug up, declaring louder I wanted a rematch. My swimming head tries to reason with me that it may not be a good idea but I needed to redeem myself.

Harry and I were good friends, I worked as an actor in the industry he dabbled in. And when he laughed at a stupid joke I made one day a few years ago, I'd latched onto him and we'd just become part of each other's lives since.

I moved across the pond from my childhood town in Maine when I turned 21 for an acting job, and have stayed since flitting from role to role. I missed my family and friends but moving here was also the best thing I did for myself. It did get lonely...which was why meeting Harry was also one of the best things to happen to me. Over the first year of knowing him, his friends became my friends and vice versa. I called them all Harry& Co. especially when I was drunk, all their faces blurred into each other and there were too many of them. Except for Harry. His face always stood out from a crowd. Being around him usually cured the ache I had for home.

"If I go again, you've got to put something on the table." Harry finally agrees. The crowd shouts out inappropriate things I could put down and I flip them off. I catch my friend's eye and she gives me a cautious look but I shake my head. I was having fun tonight.

"Loser gets a tattoo of the winner's choice. Tonight." Harry announces and the group goes crazier. My own mouth drops. I had to win this, knowing Harry he would do something ridiculous like his face on my ass. And this was the first time I lost to Harry, I could do this.

"Deal," I shake on it.

"Wait!" My friend tries to reason with us but we pull our mugs supplied by the crowd, closer to us.

"3...2...1...Go!"

I black out downing it but somehow, Harry's mug clashes down millisecond before mine does. A silence descends the room before Harry laughs. And suddenly everyone is shouting, cheering, throwing out tattoo ideas, and one voice is just shouting long live Harry over and over.

"I...." my mouth doesn't close on it's own, I lost. I rarely lost a drinking contest. But...Harry had me beat.

"Fair and square," Harry maneuvers around the table to sit beside me.

"I lost." I say, dumbstruck.

"It happens to the best of us, eventually." Harry kisses my cheek before jumping up and taking my hand. "Celebration dance."

I let him drag me to the dancefloor, trying to bring my mind back to reality. I was going to get a tattoo. My first. "Harry-Harry!" I try to get his attention. "Nothing ridiculous?"

"No promises," he winks. The alcohol sloshes in my brain as he pulls me into him and moves from side to side.

"Harry!" I shout out.

"You'll see," he grins, enjoying my torture way too much. "Just dance now."

His voice in my ear tickles, and I feel fluttery, far away. Some part of me knows that sober me was going to be pissed at drunk me.

I dance with Harry, following his lead, eventually drifting off to my friends, some strangers, and back to him.

"Should we get that tattoo now?" Harry says in my ear then.

"Maybe..." I try to put on my best convincing voice on. "We should wait for tomorrow."

"Nope!" Harry shouts gleefully. "Let's go now!"

"Nothing's open!" I shout but I was lying and he doesn't believe me for a second. I sigh, and find my friends to say goodbye. They try to tell me I didn't have to follow through but I know Harry would get this done one way or another. I may as well get it done while I was drunk and blame it on that.

The cold outside reminds me I left my coat inside, and when I come back out Harry's jumping up and down to keep warm. It makes me laugh but he quickly tugs on my arm. We run to stay warm towards wherever he decided this was going to happen.

It's a few blocks away, a sterile looking place with crazy colours on the walls that I realise are tattoo designs. The warmth inside the studio makes me shiver and Harry wraps his arm around me as we walk through.

"Harry nothing unprofessional please? I don't want to get fired from a job I don't even have." The cold air had sobered me up a bit and I was starting to regret this even more.

"Don't you trust me?" He asks with a glint to his eye that I didn't trust. "Wait here."

I sit down while he goes to talk to the artist, showing her his phone, pointing to various parts of his body.

"Y/N! Come on!"

I drag my feet over and glare at him as I settle in.

"You'll have to take your shirt off," Harry lets me know.

"You're picking where I get it too?" I ask.

"That's part of the deal!"

"I should've read the fine print," I grumble. Harry shows the artist the side of my rib cage-my shirt was still on but his finger traces a small curve up and down where he wants to place it. It sends butterflies to my stomach.

"Okay," I grab his hand so he could stop doing that. It wasn't helping my nerves. "Let's get this over with. But you can't stay."

"Yes I can," Harry insists. "I make up the rules."

"If I have to take my shirt off, he goes." I look at the girl giving me my tattoo and she shrugs, looking over at Harry. He sighs but agrees.

I take my shirt off and have to hike my bra strap higher, ready to settle into the torture.

"Please tell me it's nothing crude? His face included? Or a stupid message like Y/N hearts Harry?"

The artist laughs, "I'm not allowed to tell you anything apparently but from one girlfriend with a crazy boyfriend to another. It's not. Don't worry, just relax."

I try to tell her Harry wasn't my boyfriend but she turns away and I decide it wasn't worth it. I'd explained that a million times to my own mom who always asked if we'd gotten together yet. It was embarassing, my family back home was convinced we were having a secret affair. I stopped wasting my breath nowadays.

"So, do you get this kind of request often?" I try to make small talk.

"More than you think," the cold of whatever she spreads on my skin makes me shiver. I sort of wish Harry was here, to keep me distracted. I pull my phone out and text him.

"I'm back," his head pops in a few minutes later. The tattoo artist looks to me to make sure I was okay.

"Just talk your usual shit so I don't have to think about what I agreed to," I call out. He sits beside me but he falls silent. When I lift my head to look at him, he's staring at me. "Hey!"

"Sorry, I was thinking about the other tattoos I'm going to beat you into getting."

I roll my eyes, but my skin warms under his gaze. "I'm never agreeing to something like this ever again. You got me while I was weak."

"I'll convince you to get another tattoo again," Harry rolls closer to me. He rests his arms on my leg and leans his head on it.

"My leg's going to fall asleep," I warn him.

"Then we'll put another tattoo there," he smiles.

And back and forth we go, he keeps me distracted, and for the most part, the tattoo process is okay. I'm barely listening as she begins to tell me about its aftercare, she'd already said she would give me a pamphlet and Harry had plenty experience, I could ask him.

"Do you want to see it before I wrap it up?" She asks me. From what I felt, it was at least a few inches long and a bigger tattoo was too scary for me to think about.

"I need something to drink before I look at it," I say. "But I know if I don't like it it's his fault not yours."

"You'll love it," Harry pulls me to him and presses a wet kiss to my cheek. I push him away aggressively and agree to be bandaged. I tell Harry he owed me a few beers before I looked at it and he agrees. He purchases some on our way back to my place along with some food. The train ride home is mostly filled with him gloating but I suffer through it, imaging the worst case scenarios.

Back at my place, I stand in front of the full length mirror in my room, deathly afraid. I had waited nervously, threw back a couple of beers and shoved excessive pizza in my mouth. Harry seems more excited than me for the reveal and finally he joins me upstairs.

"So?" He asks, eyes on me in the mirror.

"Fine." I decide. I peel my shirt off slowly and Harry helps, I try to ignore the way my knees turn into jello at the sight of him doing that. "Fine."

My bra is crooked and I act as casual as possible that Harry is still standing behind me. I slowly peel the bandaging off, Harry comes around to help. I close my eyes as he finishes and count to three in my head. When I see it, my heart stops.

"Do you like it?" Harry asks like a kid on Christmas morning. He's buzzing with nervous excitement but all I can do is stare at the simple tattoo as my heart swells.

A few inches big, covering the side of my ribcage, is a twig of wild blueberries: a symbol of home.

"How did you..." I'm at a loss for words. My first tattoo. I just got my first tattoo, and it was...perfect.

"Well, you're always taking about how you miss home. And you rarely get to go back because of your schedule. And I looked up the official things for Maine, didn't think you wanted a moose so I-"

I shut him up by kissing him; that was the only possible response to this. He'd tricked me into getting the most perfect tattoo and if I was ever unsure before I was sure now that I loved Harry Styles. He knew me. His choice of tattoo made that clear. And I loved him.

"Woah," Harry steadies my shoulders when we part.

"It's perfect," I say, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

"I should've got you a tattoo a long time ago," he says before kissing me again. I could do this forever, I think, as I bury my hands in his hair.

His hand brushes the open tattoo and I flinch. It didn't hurt, but it was slightly sore.

"Sorry," he apologises against my lips. "We should probably take care of that."

"Ugh, wait." I kiss him one last time. "Where's that info sheet-"

"It's okay, c'mon." He leads me into the bathroom and sits me down on the countertop. I watch as he carefully washes his hands and washes the area. He knows where everything is. His face is scrunched in concetration as he washes and dries it. I marvel at how the evening started with his chaotic public personality to this gentle version here.

"This is gonna be cold," he warns before applying jelly over the whole thing. "Don't sleep on this side."

"I won't. I don't really plan on sleeping at all," I grab his shirt and pull him back up to me. I feel him smile as I kiss him, and he pushes me as far back as I can go before I hit the mirror behind me. I can tell he wanted this as bad as I did, and if it weren't for the tattoo we would be a roughened jumble on my bed right now.

"Bad night for a tattoo," he rests his forehead on mine.

"A tattoo can't stop me," I say. "Let's go." I lead him back to my bed and unclasp my bra. "I probably shouldn't be wearing this anyway."

"Fuck," Harry's mouth hangs open but before I can grow self conscious, he strides over and crashes into me. He doesn't bother with holding back, although he avoids my right side. But it doesn't even matter as I simultaneously forget every sense I have and feel every single nerve in my body at the same time as he takes me to bed.

After, when we lay facing each other on the bed, Harry uses his finger to trace my face. When he reaches my mouth, I kiss his finger. "Thanks. Tonight was...great."

"If you think tonight was great, wait until your tattoo heals." He swipes down my nose.

"I was only talking about the tattoo," I tease. "The rest of the night was...okay."

"Okay?" He immediately perches up.

"Yeah. Like...a 6 out of 10?"

He turns on his back and laughs, "You're in so much trouble. You better watch what you say next!"

"I'm not afraid of you--you had your chance with the tattoo and you chose something lovely."

He turns back to me, pressing a kiss to my lips. "You have to trust me."

"I do...usually." I smile. Harry rests his hand on my hip and zones out, his mind elsewhere. The silence stretched out and I can't help but ask.

"So...tonight isn't like, a one time thing right?" I was going to wait to ask but my nerves needed to be soothed. I also didn't want things between Harry and I to be in a gray area. He meant too much to me.

"No, unless...you want it to be?"

"No!" I nearly shout. "Only the tattoo part. Everything else, I'd like again."

"Okay, good." He slides closer to me under the duvet. "Because I wouldn't mind putting a label on this and-"

"Done." I say, not caring how eager I sounded because the grin that splits his face shows the same eagerness.

I mentally apologise to all the people I scolded who asked when Harry and I would get together. As I nuzzle my head into his chest, and he drapes his arm around me, I just think about how right it feels and why I didn't do it sooner. Tonight was a crazy night of bad decisions but every single outcome was perfect.

"I love you Y/N," Harry says after a while, I thought he'd already fallen asleep. I peek out from my position and his eyes are closed. I wait a moment but they remain closed.

I snuggle back in and suppress the urge to squeal. This night felt too good to be real, like I would wake up tomorrow morning and realise it was all a drunk-hallucination. And on the off chance that might be true, I wrap myself tighter against him and whisper the words back, hoping that he was awake enough to hear them.

When his arms tighten around me, I fall asleep happy, knowing he knows too. Maybe tomorrow morning, I would say it again.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #writingsfromhome #fic #one shot #idk

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ynsimagines · 3 years

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Supergirl: Forgiveness

When Alex Killed Astra

Alex killed Astra. Kara’s last living blood relative. The thing is Kara has no idea Alex is the one that killed her, she thinks it was Hank. You were the first person, that Alex confessed the secret to since she needed to somehow get it off her chest.

Keeping a secret this big tore you apart. On the one hand you wanted to tell Kara, she deserved to know. On the other hand you wanted to keep your promise to Alex and protect her in case Kara ended up lashing out on her the way she was with Hank. Not that Kara was ever violent towards the people she loved, but you feared she may never speak to Alex again. In the end even though it was killing you you decided to keep the information for yourself deciding to trying your best to not get involved. Though technically you kind of already were thanks to Alex.

This all comes to a head one day when you were observing Alex, and Hank spar in the DEO training room when Kara walked in she was talking to you and Hank about Myriad when Alex interrupted. “I saw Astra standing over Hank.”

“What?” Asked Kara.

“Alex,” Hank and I said simultaneously. This is happening she’s actually going to confess you realize as she looks in Hank’s eyes. You really wish the floor would suck me up right now so you don’t have to experience this.

“Hank didn’t kill Astra I did,” Alex’s voice broke with her confession. You placed your hand comfortingly on her back for support. To let her know she’s not alone. Alex is full on sobbing while she tells Kara everything. You follow her by beginning to cry yourself when Alex told Kara that she can’t lose her. You can’t lose Kara either, but you probably will. You knew what happened all this time and didn’t tell her, one of your big sisters would hate you.

Kara heads towards the door and you think she’s going to walk out when she surprises you by turning and hugging Alex who’s now sobbing in her arms while you rub her back. Hank heads out in order to give you some time, Kara kisses Alex on the forehead before turning to you. You tried telling yourself to stop crying because there attention shouldn’t be focused on you, but all that was thrown away when Kara wrapped you in her strong arms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Kara,” you sobbed. “I was so worried you’d hate Alex.”

"Shhh I know sweet girl it’s okay,” said Kara. Alex joined back in the hug efficiently sandwiching you between your sisters. “Come on lets go somewhere better than this,” suggested Kara. The three of you headed out of the training room and you began to walk in the opposite direction. “Where are you going little one?”

You turned around looking at your sisters, “I figured you’d want some 1 on 1 time,” you shrugged.

“This involves you too kiddo, come on lets fly like we used to.”

Inside Kara. A thousand emotions were rising. Fighting for dominance but she couldn’t sort them out right now. All she knew is that the sight of the two most important people in her life breaking down was enough to outweigh the hurt and anger simmering in the blonde.

You immediately recognized the area Kara took you and Alex to. A small mountain on the outskirts of National City, one you’ve hiked before. The three of you sat in the grass, “Kara, I’m really sorry this had to happen,” Said Alex.

“Me too,” you nodded in agreement.

“I love you both so much. I know that there’s more to family than just blood. You’ve both shown me that. But when Astra died it felt like I had lost all my ties to Krypton. It was like watching my planet burn all over again. It was like having hope only for it to get ripped away again in a matter of days.”

Kara’s statement broke your heart and your pretty sure it broke Alex’s too. “I know we’re not your family from Krypton,” you began “and I know were not enough.”

“That’s not true,” Kara cut you off looking you dead in the eyes. “You, Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah are the best thing that’s ever happened to me on earth, and you are more than enough. This isn’t your fault little one, yours either Alex. My anger was just a mask for all the pain I felt when I saw Astra lying on the ground. My grief just resurfaced.”

Without thought you and Alex simultaneously hugged Kara creating another Danvers’ sisters sandwich. “I’m so sorry Kara, we’re here for you.”

"It’s so hard to live without them sometimes,” cried Kara.

“I know but you’re never alone.”

You eventually all went home to yours and Kara’s apartment that night after your talk. The three of you all feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. Alex also decided to stay the night in order to make sure Kara was ok when she pulled you aside to apologize.

“I’m so sorry kiddo, I put you in the middle of everything and that was so wrong of me. I never should’ve told you what happened,” said Alex.

You nodded, “it’s ok Alex, it seems that everything worked itself out.”

Alex shook her head, “It’s not. I’m your big sister I should be helping you solve your problems not burdening you with mine. I’m supposed to be looking out for you and I was just looking out for myself.”

“Alex you always look out for me your a great older sister, I forgive you,” you said hugging her.

Although you tried to sleep you felt too restless so you got up and quietly headed up to the roof of yours and Kara’s apartment building. “Couldn’t sleep?” You heard a voice ask from behind. You looked over your shoulder luckily it was almost sunrise so you were able to see Kara.

You nodded, “a lot on my mind I guess...”

You took a breath, “I’m really sorry for not telling you Kara.”

“Sweetie, I told you its ok its not your fault.”

You shrugged not being able to get rid of your guilt. “I mean I understand now, but I was so hurt when I first found out about the DEO. I was just so worried if I told you you’d hate Alex and then Alex would hate me. Now I just hate myself for letting you down.”

“Little one you didn’t let me down, you’ve never let me down. I realize what an impossible position you were put in. I know how awful you must’ve felt thinking you’d have to choose between us. But I’m not mad I forgive you so please try to forgive yourself.”

You nodded hugging your sister for the umpteenth time that night. “I guess I can try.”’

“That’s my girl,” Kara kissed the top of your head, “and I mean what I said before. I didn’t expect a little sister when I came to earth, but I’m so glad I got one. You are so much more than I expected and you’re perfect”

#supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #J'onn J'onzz #cw #nbc #DC comics #OC #baby danvers #Baby!Danvers

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aellynera · 3 years

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An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You: Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @rosemarysbaby13 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @itspdameronthings @poedjarin @spider-starry @tinygaydemonbby @writefightandflightclub @woakiees @veuliee2 @yourbucky084

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#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #fanfic #oscar isaac characters #my writing

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iliumheightnights · 4 years

Text

Learning | Cal Kestis x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Male Reader

Summary: Cal teaches reader the ways of the force and while harboring a crush.

A/N: This was co-written with @inhumanshadows and I ABSOLUTELY loved doing this! They’re so amazing! Go check them out!

...

Cal had met you while on a mission. You had helped him evade imperial forces and in return asked to join him on his adventures.

At first Cal wasn't so sure about bringing you along. He hadn't really known you and wasn't sure if it was a good idea.

He ended up bringing you along and it was the best decision he ever made.

As they continued on their travels, Cal found himself getting closer and closer to you as time passed on. It really made him question things as Jedi shouldn't have attachments but the order was gone and he had to find happiness wherever he could.

Cal was happy that you seemed to get along with Cire and Greez pretty well.

You helped tend to the mantis and often listened to Cal and Cire tell tales of the order.

Cal would often catch you watching him working on his lightsaber and offered to show you how to work with one.

He eventually start to train you in a long stretch of downtime while Greez repairs the ship while on Boganno

You were working on the mantis when something happened and it caused some boxes to fall towards you.

Instead of getting out of the way you instinctively threw up your hands and waited for impact.

However you never felt the boxes hit you and when you opened your eyes you saw the boxes were floating above you.

You were using the force!

Cal was already teaching you things about the force but now you'd be able to do them yourself!

You instantly ran off to find him and tell him what happened.

“CAL!! You won’t believe what happened!!”

“whoa whao! Calm down Y/N... What happened”

You preceded to recount the events of your ship repairs.

Cal looks at you confused, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“you used the force? Like legitimately?”

“I would be dead or at least injured if I didn’t.”

He would be curious and starts to get excited.

"Really? Like really really? Because that would be so amazing!"

He would ask you to use the force again but you wouldn't really know how to do it.

The two of you would go to Cere and ask her.

"Well it's not impossible for someone older to show signs of the force. Normally it's just easier to detect at a young age. You should keep showing him techniques and train him Cal."

There seemed to also be a hint of an undertone there and a wicked smirk. She had another plan in mind besides Cal training you.

“Well Cere has a point. And the empire thinks Boganno is desserted so I’ll train you here.”

“Does that mean I get a lightsaber??”

“Calm down Padawan. Baby steps.”

Yes Master Kestis...” you say in an exaggerated voice.

You couldn't help but smile as you saw Cal blush after you said that.

"Never call me that again."

"But isn't that what you were going to have the younglings call you?"

"I don't want YOU calling me that."

He would start you out by basic prepping and conditioning.

He'd also want you to do meditation.

You were ready to learn but you also had a big crush on him and it was getting more difficult to focus.

you guys were on a hike and well...

Cal looks even hotter sweaty.

Cal: “hello? Earth to Y/N?? Sun in your eyes or something?”

“or something” you mutter

Cal smirks at that.

Not too long later Cal takes off his top and you can't help but stare at his sweaty chest.

"oh by the force."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Eventually the two of you came up to a nice watering hole with a waterfall.

"AH! Sweet sweet water!"

"Want to go for a swim (M/N)?"

You look back up at him and feel your face warm up as he slips out of his pants and dives in.

“Come on! The waters great! Just what we need after that crazy hike!” Cal calls out to you.

he has a point... You think to yourself.

You take a deep breath before stripping your shirt and pants, folding them before wading into the water.

At first you just tred water and enjoy the coolness of it.

Then you felt someone swim closer to you.

"This is nice. We should do this more often."

You love the feeling of Cal being close to you and you love hearing how close he is.

"I would like that. I love spending time with you."

You then realize what you said.

"I mean...like..."

Cal stops you there.

"I know what you mean. I love spending time with you too."

It's then you realize he's moved closer to you and it isn't long before his hands are on you.

"(M/N) there's something I've been wanting to tell you. I just hadn't figured out how."

He seems to still be nervous.

"I really like you (M/N). Would you please be my boyfriend?"

You feel your breath hitch. You never expected this to happen today.

You notice how Cal was looking nervously for your answer.

You Don’t know what to do... so you just did the first thing that popped into your head.

You pulled him close and slammed your lips on him.

Cal makes as sound of surprise, but slowly melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist.

When you break apart you lay your forehead on his.

"So was that a yes?"

You shake your head with a laugh.

"Yes that was a yes you womp rat."

You two decide to stay in the water a bit longer just enjoying each others company.

When you DO get out you see you've accidentally drenched your clothes.

"Why do I feel like you planned this?" You said to Cal.

Cal feigns hurt, placing a hand on his heart.

“I am insulted that you would imply that! But... seeing as how our clothes are soaked... we can drape them on a rock and dry off ourselves in the sun.

After you deemed your clothes dry enough you got dressed and started the hike back down.

“Well there you two are! Thought I would have to send Greez looking for the two if you.

~"We're more than capable of protecting ourselves. Thank you." Cal said.

"Cal messed up and we got stuck. It's all good now though."

You didn't wait around but went right back into the mantis.

You smirked as you heard Cal calling you a liar.

You were in your room when Cal entered.

"You're so mean to me. What have I ever done to you?"

“Distracting me when I’m trying to work.” You say.

“How do I do that?”

“you’re so cute and hot!! And badass!”

Cal smirks and get's closer pulling you into him.

"I can say the same about you."

He kisses you again and it's a feeling you don't think you'll ever get over.

From there on training got a little easier with all your feelings on the table.

Cal made sure to give EXTRA special attention to you and praise you for a good job.

You loved it when he praised you.

What you didn’t see was Greez handing Cere credits.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”

“yeah yeah...”

From then on the mission didn’t change. You just fought with Cal more on the front as he taught you how to use the force as well as lightsaber combat.

You two were unstoppable.

#star wars #fallen order #jedi fallen order #star wars fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order #cal kestis #cal kestis x male reader #cal kestis x male!reader #cal kestis x reader

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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merskrat · 3 years

Text

Out of all of the things we could be focusing on, radblr is now arguing over pit bulls. While I’m not going to agree with the person (who shall remain unnamed) who said that it’s racist to hate on pit bulls, it’s very telling that another person responded by saying that “only tacky people have pit bulls in my country, they’re for trashy people,” etc, which kind of proves the point that I’m about to make, because there are socio-economic reasons for why these dogs end up being aggressive. When a certain type of dog becomes a status symbol for the lower classes (“tacky” people), those dogs do not receive the proper care, like socialization, spaying/neutering, even shelter (how many of these dogs have you seen tied up in a patch of dirt outside some dilapidated house?). This leads to dogs getting scared and aggressive when they are eventually put in situations that they are not used to (which is basically any situation with a strange animal, a child, etc), and breeding going unchecked, which leads to shelters overflowing with more and more unsocialized dogs. While I was living with my mom and stepdad, I exercised several “aggressive” pit bulls that my stepdad was training for free for the city shelter, trying to rehabilitate them so they could go to loving homes (he was not always successful unfortunately). The reason it was safe for me, a fifteen year old girl who weighed 105 lbs, was because most unsocialized pit bulls are dog aggressive, not people aggressive, and it was perfectly safe for me to interact with them as long as there were no other dogs around.

So while no, I don’t think it’s racist or even classist to point out that pit bulls can be aggressive, I think it’s in really bad taste to just write them off as naturally aggressive or a dog that only “tacky” (poor) people own. If you knew anything about dog psychology or the overbreeding of pit bulls and underfunding of shelters, or the cruelty of human beings, you would realize this. But just as a decent human, you should realize that it’s extremely rude to tell someone who owns and loves one of these dogs that her dog is a killer and that she is irresponsible for owning one. Dogs are literally part of our families and it can be really upsetting for me to hear that my senior dog, who I rescued from crack heads when he was eight weeks old and who has never acted aggressive with anyone or any animal (including cats, kittens, other dogs or puppies, chickens, mama and baby ducks, goats, llamas, pet rats, there’s probably more idk) is a ticking time bomb and it’s only a matter of time before he mauls someone. He also loves babies and kids too despite not even being socialized with them at a young age.

I also want to point out that “pit bull” is not a breed but a descriptor of a group of breeds, several of which are fairly expensive and sought after, like English staffordshire terriers or bull terriers (the dog from the target adds lol). I have a staffy, who falls under this “pit bull” umbrella. I think the dog most of you are referring to is the American pit bull terrier, but again, even those dogs aren’t born killers. They just happen to be a type of dog who often does not receive proper care or socialization.

I just want to say that I’m not even necessarily a “pit person,” I just got the dog that I got. He was tiny and sad and I bought him for $20 off of some crack heads who picked me up hitch hiking. I wouldn’t have chosen a pit bull at the time I don’t think, I don’t think I would even choose one in the future unless I went to an animal shelter and met one that I really vibed with. He was a really well behaved puppy, he was never destructive or anything like that, and I’ve found that he’s really low maintenance. He could sleep all day or spend all day hiking and be perfectly happy either way. I understand that a lot of pit bulls are aggressive, usually to other dogs but sometimes to people. I’m hoping to make you, the reader, understand some of the factors that go into making a dog that way. I would also like you to understand that it’s incredibly rude to tell me that my senior dog who has never hurt anyone is a natural born killer. Everyone who has ever met him loves him. Landlords who wanted to meet him before we move in. My friend who said he helped change her mind about pit bulls. My grandfather who is probably more excited to see my dog than he is me when I come to visit.

Ending by saying please don’t talk shit about my dog. I don’t have a normal dog/owner relationship with him because for years I was with him all day, every day while traveling with him. There was no leaving him at home when I went to work. We traveled by freight and by hitch hiking and went to 48 states together. I’ve had him for my entire adult life and I love him.

#pit bull #radical feminism #radfem #personal #no I was not the one who cut his ears so don’t come for me over that #look at this fucking oogle #oogle #traveler #train rider #doogle #adopt don’t shop #rescue dog

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part three

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: we got some spicy things happening this chapter folks!! a lot of natasha too and plot and a tiny bit of fluff at the end. i hope you enjoy!! let me know what you think. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one | part two

Mrs Shoreditch had agreed to meet you at the cafe you’d been inhabiting daily as you kept watch on Steve’s shop, and you’re waiting for her now at your usual table with unusual trepidation. Your leg is bouncing under the table, you’re darting looks left and right down the street trying to catch sight of her. You have to finish this job - seeing Bucky last night confirmed that. Looking into his friends and his life feels wrong, and you want to end it as soon as possible. It’s none of your business unless Bucky wants it to be.

She’s late, one o’clock ticking by and then some, anxiety hiking with every passing minute. The file on her husband sits unremarkable on the table in front of you, and you drum your fingers against it unconsciously. The sooner this meeting is over the sooner you can move on with your day, maybe go see your dad, take on some normal clients who don’t have eery connections to your personal life and keep you up at night.

Someone approaches the table and you’re about to feel relieved, until you look up and instead of seeing Mrs Shoreditch apologising for her tardiness you find Natasha standing before you. She blocks out the sun, a ring of red wisps escaping her ponytail lit up like a halo behind her head but the calculating look in her eyes is nowhere near angelic. She looks nothing like the girl you met at the party - gone is the sundress, replaced by an outfit weirdly similar to yours. Leather jacket, skinny jeans, Docs and chipped black nail polish you catch as she wiggles her fingers at you in that same, condescending wave.

“Natasha?” You can’t believe she’s caught you, but you’re technically not doing anything wrong right now - you just feel like you are, with the way she’s looking at you like a ‘gotcha’ moment not gone your way.

Natasha nods, smirking, and says, “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, but you know neither of you believe it. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting Steve,” she says. It takes everything in you not to glance over at the tattoo shop, giving yourself away. You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your eyes trained on hers, furrowing your brows in an approximation of confusion. She waits a beat, you don’t think you’ve convinced her, but then she says, ”He works over there.”

She jerks a thumb to the tattoo shop and you nod, following her finger with bone-deep relief. It doesn’t last long, tension eating it’s way back up your spine as she asks, “What about you? I haven’t seen you here before.”

Been here every day, lady, you think, but say with a tap to the folder on the table, “Work. Meeting a client.”

“Oh?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t question you further, but that in itself is suspicious. Everyone always presses for more with your vague answers - client? For what? Announcing you’re a private investigator kind of ruins your confidential reputation so you often have to work a lot harder than this to keep your work life private. Natasha doesn’t press it, though. Like she already knows. Dread curls low and heavy in your gut.

At that moment, Mrs Shoreditch finally shows up. She doesn’t seem harried, out of breath, or concerned she’s late in any way, shape, or form. She takes the seat opposite you, offering you a smile and placing her ridiculously expensive handbag on the table. With blonde hair tossed over one shoulder, to your absolute horror she looks up to Natasha and smiles at her, too. Recognition, as Natasha returns it.

“You should come over to the shop when you’re done,” Natasha says to you but it sounds more like a demand than a request, shattering the silence with a sledgehammer. You’d miscalculated, somewhere. Something isn’t right.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, making eye contact with Mrs Shoreditch and hoping Natasha understands. You hardly think Mrs Shoreditch would want you going in there after you reveal that’s the place her husband has been shovelling her money into for months. Mrs Shoreditch avoids your gaze, however, picking at her perfect manicure. It clicks, then. You’re so fucking stupid.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha says, ignoring what you said entirely with a sparkle in her eyes that doesn’t bode well for you. She crosses the street, gone in a second, and you turn back to Mrs Shoreditch as a numbness creeps into your veins.

She’s a typical socialite, perfectly up-kept in every aspect and dressed to the nines even for a rubbish cafe in Red Hook. You didn’t think she was capable of hoodwinking you, and maybe that’s where you first went wrong. She finally meets your eyes, apologetic and almost tearful. She reaches a hand out, resting it on the file you’d prepared as if she realises last minute trying to touch you is a bad fucking idea.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “I’ve been wasting your time-“

“Natasha hired you to hire me,” you say, cutting her off with the coldness in your voice. She nods mutely, retracting her hand back to her lap as if burned. “You already knew about Mike’s other bank account.”

“Yes,” she admits, rolling her lips together. At least she has the decency to look ashamed. “Ms Romanoff said she’d pay off an instalment of Mike’s debt if I hired you, and I- I didn’t ask questions. I’m so sorry, you seem lovely-“

You don’t wait to hear her finish, standing from the table and leaving your useless file behind without a second glance. You head across the street, for the first time approaching the front door of the tattoo parlour. Natasha knew you’d come here eventually, knew you’d see Steve and start putting dots together. She baited you here, but why? You were Bucky’s fuck buddy, nothing more. Why play this game at all?

You take a deep breath before shouldering the door open, entering the permanent twilight of the shop you’d come to know so well through the lens of your camera. It’s cool in here, the street noise dampened so all you can hear is pop-punk playing low through speakers and the buzz of the tattoo gun. Steve is at the back, bent over someone’s arm and doesn’t break concentration when the bell above the door rings, announcing your entrance. Natasha waits, however, hip propped up against the counter and smiling as she sees you stop at the door, not daring to enter further.

“What do you want?” you ask, calling out across the shop. It draws the attention of the two guys in leather, Steve’s regulars, sitting on the couch in the waiting area. They eye you suspiciously, as does the kid who mans the cash register you often see doing homework instead of his job. Natasha pushes off the counter, beckoning you to the back of the store where you know Steve’s office to be. You follow, heart in your mouth, aware you’re walking further into the trap you hadn’t even known had been set for you.

Natasha closes the door behind you and takes a seat at the desk, covered in stencil designs and files which she seems to entirely disregard as she crosses her feet on top of them, dirt smears be damned. You sit in the chair opposite, back ramrod straight with how uncomfortable you are, and wait for an answer.

“You’re smart,” she says, which is not what you were expecting. You blink, confused by the compliment, and Natasha smirks. “And a lot more observant than Bucky gives you credit for.”

“It’s my job,” you say, unsure of what to give away. Obviously she knows you’re a private investigator or you wouldn’t be in this mess, but she doesn’t know what you know. Not yet, anyway.

“I know,” she says, inclining her head, “I googled you.”

That makes you uncomfortable. Bucky doesn’t even know your last name, how does she? All that she would’ve found is your business website because you’re not stupid enough to put your life online, but still, the thought that she had been trying to look into you makes your blood run cold. You’re starting to really regret going to that party with Bucky - if Natasha’s weird behaviour then wasn’t a tip off, then your deep-dive into their secret lives has clearly shown you there’s a lot more to Bucky than he was ever intending of letting on. Natasha’s intervention in your job merely confirms what you’d already figured out.

“Why did you get Mrs Shoreditch to hire me?” you ask. Natasha regards you for a second, thinking, and it’s a look that reminds you eerily of Bucky.

“I wanted to see what you’d find,” she says. You feel your jaw clench, despite yourself - she’s being evasive even now, and it’s like she can read your frustration because she smiles then, says, “And I wanted to see if Bucky’s choice to trust you was a wise one.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” you say, defensive, too quick. She raises her eyebrows. Frustrated at this cryptic and frankly dramatic conversation, you ask, “Can you just tell me what you want? You’ve wasted weeks of my time and I think I deserve to know why.”

“As I said,” Natasha said slowly, clearly amused at the rise she’s managed to get out of you, “I want to see what you found.”

“Are you going to pay for it?” you snap. You don’t want to tell her - you don’t know why. Clearly, she already knows far more than you ever will, but this is the only thing you have over her and it feels like the most important thing in the world in this moment.

Natasha rolls her eyes and says, “You’ll be well compensated, don’t worry.”

You have a small stare off with the red head before you huff, conceding. That was a fight you were destined to lose, anyway. You grab your laptop from your bag and send a quick email of everything you’d collected to Steve’s business email. His monitor pings with a notification and and you raise your eyebrows towards it, watching Natasha unfold her legs off the desk and lean forward to start reading. You don’t trust her with your laptop as far as you can throw it, so you make sure it’s shut down completely before placing it back in your bag.

Natasha reads for a long time, because you’d found a lot. Her eyes dart across the screen almost too-fast, the set of her mouth growing tenser and tenser as each silent minute passes. You feel a weird, sick sense of satisfaction at that - clearly, you’d surpassed her expectations.

You had been thorough. Pictures of Steve, the kid working the counter, the regulars who park their bikes at the back, the bikes themselves, the inside of the shop from your window vantage point, Sam at one point, Natasha at others, meetings they held and rough angles of deals gone on inside the shop. You couldn’t get a clear shot, but you saw them exchanging money with leather-clad strangers for something. The long hours after closing they spend at the tattoo shop doing everything but tattooing is all captured and saved on your computer. You’d written up a run-sheet of the shop’s routines as well, based on what you’d observed from your little cafe spot - Natasha spends longer looking at that then anything else, mouse hovering over the word you’d written at the bottom. Gang?

You’d researched them all, except for Bucky. He never appeared at the shop while you were watching it, and it gave you the perfect out to leave him alone in your investigation. Steve and Sam had wrap sheets longer than your arm, and Natasha notably had nothing online at all. None of them had social media, which is weird, and the only photo you could find dated back to a highschool cross country picture of Steve and Sam, first and second medals respectively. You refused to look for Bucky. It made you sick just thinking about what you’d find on him, so you decided you just didn’t want to know. Not like that, behind a computer screen in your apartment with a bottle of red-wine half gone beside you. Bucky doesn’t belong there.

You could have kept digging, given more time. It had been eating at you, though, consuming the hours you were supposed to be sleeping and waking you up when you finally closed your eyes. It didn’t matter how much you found, ten more questions would arise from it, and you were becoming obsessed. So you decided to end it. Clearly, you’d come to that conclusion a bit too late.

“Bucky doesn’t know your last name,” Natasha says, suddenly, shocking you enough to flinch. She doesn’t look away from the screen, but goes on, “He doesn’t know you’re a PI, where you live, what you do in your spare time. He knows noting about you, but he doesn’t seem to care. I told him that was stupid.”

You swallow past the hard lump in your throat. You knew Natasha hadn’t exactly warmed to you at that party but you hadn’t expected this level of- what would you even call it? A threat? You feel threatened, a metaphorical knife to your throat as Natasha finally looks at you again, pinning you down with a cold green stare.

“He’s not in any of this,” she says, tapping a fingernail on the keyboard to emphasis your research. It’s not a question, but you know what she’s asking.

“I wasn’t hired to look into Bucky,” you say, refraining from adding because I have self control and I don’t need to invade his privacy to have sex with him. “Anything I need to know, I can get from him.”

Natasha is silent for a long time, staring at you, and you don’t dare look away. This, too, is a test. After god-knows how much time has passed, she stands and you do too, hurrying to grab your bag and meet her at the office door she holds open for you. Conversation over, you suppose - you’re starting to get used to Natasha’s cryptic ways even if they piss you off beyond belief.

“Delete everything you just sent me,” she says. You scoff, rolling your eyes at her, but she stares you down with the darkest, scariest look you’ve ever received from someone who’s a head shorter than you. You think about that word you’d written in your notes, gang, after one too many red wines and thinking back to the way Natasha looked at you when you described them all as a family. Maybe you shouldn’t argue with her, given everything you’d experienced today.

“I’d cover that window if I were you,” you say, instead of answering. A muscle ticks in her jaw but she says nothing else, so you take your leave. Steve waves awkwardly as you go but you ignore him, shouldering out of the shop and practically running down the street.

Energy burns in your muscles that you can’t seem to get rid of, even as you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment which takes over an hour. It’s anger, you realise, fisting your hair and pacing around your apartment like a crazy person. Uncontrollable rage at being played with, tested at every turn, and for what? You never asked to be a part of this game. You’d never done anything but exactly what Bucky asked and it still wasn’t enough.

Your phone begins to ring, Bucky’s name flashing across the screen, and with a scream of pure frustration you throw it full-force into the nearest wall. It makes a dent in the drywall, falls to the ground and the impact shatters the screen but that won’t stop it vibrating uselessly against the floorboards as Bucky rings and rings and rings.

You won’t pick up. This time, or ever again. And not just because you’ve now fucked your phone beyond repair, either. You never asked to play this game, so now you’ll take yourself out of it.

***

This is exactly why you keep yourself so guarded - cutting people out is easy when they have nothing to hold onto. You change your phone number when you go to get it fixed, and it’s like Bucky never even existed. He doesn’t know where you work, where you live, and you don’t go back to any of the bars you went to with him. It’s easier than breathing to remove him from your life.

The same cannot be said about removing Bucky from you.

He’d crawled inside your ribcage and stayed there, burnt a cigarette hole in your heart to claim it as his and you hate that. You never allowed him to do that. So he might not be physically in your life anymore but he’s still there, a ghost of a hand on your throat and an ache that might mean you miss him.

His friends are crazy and he’s in a gang, you tell yourself daily, like it’ll help. Like you believe it even slightly. It’s better this way.

“You’re quiet, kroshka,” you dad says, handing you a cup of tea. You remove your thumb from your mouth where you’d been gnawing at a hangnail to take it, smiling up at him in thanks. He doesn’t go back to his armchair, though, rather kicking a cushion off the couch to sit beside you. You dip with his added weight, closer to him, and he allows you to rest your head on his shoulder while you both blow on your teas in unintentional tandem.

“Kroshka is tired,” you mumble. He clicks his tongue at you, which is fair. Shit excuse, anyway. You sit up, twisting to face him, and ask, “How do I know if I’m overreacting to something?”

“With you, overreacting is baseline,” your dad says, grinning as you slap him on the arm. He takes a sip of tea and says, “Tell me.”

“No,” you say, aware you’re being a brat, but what are you going to say? This woman tricked me and she’s smarter than me so I cut the guy I like out of my life because I can’t let anyone in or I feel like I’m going to die? Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

“Well,” he says, giving you an unimpressed look, “If you’re questioning whether you’re overreacting, I would say there might be some truth to the feeling. It’s not like you to be unsure, though. Are you sure everything’s ok?”

“Yes, papa,” you sigh, going back to leaning on his shoulder. He might have a point. “You’ve just raised an idiot.”

“I did no such thing,” he says, placing his tea on the side table to pull you into a hug. You feel small, like you’re a little girl again, and you close your eyes against your father’s chest. Maybe you can just stay here and forget about the mess you’ve made of your life. He rubs circles into your back and says, “You’ll figure it out.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya, luna,” you say softly. I love you, moon. You’ve been saying this since before you can remember, your dad whispering it into your hair when he tucked you in at night or you calling across the playground when he’d drop you off at school. In your secret language so no one else knows, a message just for him - from you to your entire world.

“Lyublyu tetbya bol’she, zvedzdy,” he responds, kissing your hair. Love you more, stars.

He sends you off with a bag of donut holes, an obvious reminder you’re both not actually Russian but New Yorker to the bone, and you eat two on the subway ride home while you think. Deleting Bucky from your life is instinct, protection - he’d gotten too close. But really, when you allow yourself to examine the tight knot of feelings sitting in the base of your throat, what’s making you run is guilt.

You crossed a line, investigating his friends. You pried into the life he very purposefully kept you away from and you’d changed your number not because you didn’t want Bucky contacting you anymore, but because he might decide not to and you couldn’t live with watching your phone for a notification that would never come. Natasha will have told him everything by now, probably even showed him, and he’ll never trust you now. You’d blown it. You could be angry at Natasha for baiting you into doing it, but she never would have felt the need to if you had just been honest.

You stuff another donut hole in your mouth to stop yourself from crying. It works only a little bit.

The apartment feels colder, lonelier than it ever has even though being alone was what you thought you wanted. It just allows you to think of Bucky some more, curled up on your couch with the bag of donut holes now empty on the coffee table, sniffling into the sleeve of your hoodie. His smell, the way he always runs hot, the callouses on his hands probably from working in his garage you’ll never get to see now. Stubble, short-shaven hair, tattoos all down his left arm you never gave proper attention to. You can’t remember them all. Just the star, red and big in the middle of his deltoid. You thought you had more time.

“Fuck it,” you say, fishing your phone out of your jeans pocket. Bucky might not have your number anymore but you have his. Maybe if you just called him and heard his voice for a second, just that rumbly ‘hello,’ it might scratch the itch driving you insane. Before you can dial though, you get a notification from your banking app - a deposit from a new contact.

Natasha Romanoff jumps out at you, stopping your heart in your chest. Does she have a sixth sense for any time you so much as think about Bucky? She’s transferred you an obscene amount of money, and it takes you far too long to realise she’s paying you for the Shoreditch case that turned out to be one giant trust test you spectacularly failed. The reason you’re being a pathetic mess alone in your apartment pining over a guy who, as Natasha said herself, doesn’t even know your last name. Get a grip, Jesus Christ.

You open up the notification just to check it’s real and she really did triple the quote you’d given Mrs Shoreditch. That’s when you read what she’s written as the name of the transaction - an address for somewhere in Queens. You should probably at least think about jumping up, grabbing your jacket and practically sprinting from your apartment to an address sent to you by someone you’re 99% sure is part of a biker gang, but you don’t. You have a pretty good idea of what that address means, and curiosity is your biggest vice. Natasha’s sending you a cryptic message and you might not quite understand what it means just yet, but you’re certainly not going to ignore it.

Half an hour later you’re standing across the street from White Wolf Mechanics, hiding in the gaps between street lights and watching Bucky fix up a motorbike. The three huge roller doors are all open, letting light spill out onto the street as well as the thump of a baseline from a song you recognise, because you showed him it. Natasha sits on the work bench cross legged, scrolling on her phone and occasionally handing Bucky tools as he asks for them. He stands, wipes his hands on his skintight black t-shirt and says something into the depth of the shop. Sam appears, grinning wide and tossing a greasy rag at Bucky’s head which he catches easily.

He seems well, and that makes you happy. It’s only been a couple of days since you last saw him but it might as well have been months from how much you’ve spiralled. He might not have even noticed you’d separated yourself from him, and that thought makes you sick. You should go. You need to go. But your feet carry you across the street, jogging into the shadows so they don’t see you. You’ll hear his voice and then you’ll go.

You linger by the farthest roller door from them, sticking outside the pool of light and half-hiding behind the wall of the shop. You can still see them, though, Bucky’s face now turned towards you as he learns over the bike. Brow furrowed in concentration, and you want to smooth out the dent between them with your thumb but that’s not for you anymore. It never was.

“Have you talked Sam about it?” Natasha asks Bucky. You watch him glare at the part he’s holding in his hands and his whole body stiffens. He keeps his back to Natasha so you can see the anger play across his face clear as day.

“What’s there to tell?” he snaps. “You’ve taken care of everything, fuck what I want, so what’s the point?”

“Cut it out, James,” Natasha snaps back, “You know I was protecting you.”

“When did I ask,” Bucky grits out through a clenched jaw, throwing the part to the ground so the clang of metal on stone echoes out onto the empty street, making you jump. He balls his fists up at his sides and says, “You were out of line.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says evenly. She unfolds herself from the table with an unfair amount of grace and steps behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bucky sighs, shoulders curling in and tension leaking out of his body. You want to hug him, but you will yourself to stay where you are.

Eventually, Bucky shrugs off Natasha’s touch and says, like a moody teenager, “Whatever.” Natasha rolls her eyes, watching him go back to work on the bike with a bit too much aggression that is strictly necessary. She hands him the part he threw silently, and it takes him a beat to unclench his fists and take it. A peace offering, you suppose, in Natasha’s strange language. She doesn’t go back to the workbench, rather staying by Bucky’s side despite his annoyed grumble.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she says, “You proved me wrong, and I’m not too proud to realise that. I am sorry.”

Bucky looks up at her, as confused as you feel because where the fuck did that come from, and says, “Proved you- have you completely lost it?”

But Natasha isn’t look at him anymore. She’s looking at you.

Busted, you think, and you consider turning around and running before Bucky can see you. It’s a bit late for that, though, so you step into the light of the shop and halfheartedly return Natasha’s welcoming grin. It takes Bucky a second, snapping his fingers in front of Natasha’s face like he’s worried she’s actually gone in insane before he follows her eyeline and lands on you.

You’ve never seen Bucky shocked before, but he looks it now as for the second time the spare part he’s holding hits concrete with an ear-grating clang. You flinch at the sound despite yourself, and that seems to shock Bucky back into action. He whips around to glare at Natasha, pointing at you as he does.

“What did you do,” he demands. Maybe coming here really was a bad idea after all.

Natasha, ignoring Bucky completely, walks over to hold out her hand for you to shake. I’m lost, you think, as she says, “Let’s start again. I’m Natasha, James is the only family I have and I’m neurotically protective of him. He’s right to trust you, as much as it pains me to say I’m sorry for meddling in your relationship.”

You don’t take her hand. You’re not entirely sure you want to forgive her just yet, even if she did extend the olive branch to get you here. You fold your arms over your chest and say, “Next time, if you want to know something about me, just ask.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, retracting her hand back to her side and you hate the way she always seems to be laughing at you. Natasha ducks her head, smirks, and disappears into some back office without another word. It’s just you and Bucky, the body of a bike between you as well as the weight of all the things you never said that’s all out in the open now. You’re looking at each other like you never have before, eyes open to the vast chasm of secrets you’ve both been keeping, and for the first time since you met Bucky you keep your distance.

“So,” he says, folding this arms over his giant chest. Not fair, you think, as his biceps flex against the tight sleeve of his t-shirt. Bucky averts his eyes to somewhere beyond your head and says, “You’re a private investigator.”

“You’re in a biker gang,” you reply, mimicking his folded-arms tight-lipped expression. He raises his eyebrows in a silent touché, and now that it’s out in the open you feel something inside you break off, slide down the tense hunch of your shoulders until you feel weightless. You should want to lock up tight, keep Bucky out because he’s gotten far too close already - you should use this blight as an escape. Somehow, though, having Bucky see you like no one else really has doesn’t feel as scary as you thought it would. Maybe because you have something of him, too, tucked against your head and healing that metaphorical cigarette burn. A secret for a secret. You can work with that.

“You changed your number,” Bucky says, and he’s walking over to you now. Guard dropped, hands by his sides, pinning you in place with his eyes on yours for the first time in what feels like centuries.

“I was scared,” you say, coming out more like a breath than a sentence, too transfixed with Bucky being so close to you when you never thought you’d get this again. He smells like car oil and sweat, but you’ll take any gross combination over nothing at all. He places his greasy hands either side of your neck, pulling you closer so practically standing between his legs.

“You know,” Bucky says, rubbing his thumb over the protrusion of your collarbone like he’s trying to turn your brain and legs into jelly, “Nat doesn’t have a high opinion of a lot of people. She means a lot to me.”

“She’s terrifying,” you say, and Bucky throws his head back in a laugh that has you grinning like an idiot. That sound settles warm in the pit of your stomach, spreading through all the dirty guilt and fear you’d been living in for the past few days. Biting your lip as you sober slightly, you say, “I’m sorry for prying, I should’ve just-“

“Don’t,” Bucky says, stern, shutting you up pretty effectively. “I’m sorry Nat is a nosy bitch-“

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice comes from the back office, startling you both into laughing even as Bucky turns to face the door with a murderous glare on his face.

“Don’t you have anything better to do!” Bucky yells, voice thundering through the echoey garage. He waits few beats for absolute silence, neither of you convinced Natasha had actually left, but it’s the best you’re going to get. He turns back to you, small smile on his face so at odds with how rough and messy he looks. Hulking muscle and scars and tattoos and you should be cautious, should be running, shouldn’t be letting him back you up until you hit the wall and he can pin you there with his hips pressed into yours.

But you’ve never been one to ignore something as intriguing and mysterious as Bucky Barnes, no matter how dangerous it might be. Bucky slides one hand up from your neck to splay across your jaw, fingers pressing almost too tight into the soft skin, and you should run from this, too. A reminder, a promise, a warning. You let him.

“Are we even?” Bucky asks, mumbled into the minuscule space between you. You can’t find your voice so you just nod, and Bucky cocks his head to the side as he asks, “You can still leave, y’know. I’ll understand.”

“No way,” you say with a vigorous shake of your head, probably too quickly if Bucky’s amused smirk is anything to go by. You shut him up real quick with a roll of your hips into his, watching with a sense of victory as his expression darkens and he tightens his grip on you. You say, eyebrows raised, “I’ve still got way too many questions.”

“Like what?” Bucky asks, but he’s not got his full attention on what you’re saying anymore, too busy using his grip on your jaw to tug your head to the side and kiss up your neck, warm and open-mouthed with just a bit of teeth.

You nod your head towards the bike he was fixing before, drawing his attention for a second as he flicks his eyes in its direction before resuming his trail of bruising kisses. A bit breathy maybe, you say, “Ever fucked someone on a motorbike before?”

“Absolutely not!” you hear a male voice practically scream, and soon enough Sam is practically running out of the back office with a smirking Natasha on his tail. “This is our place of work! It’s sacred!”

“Go home, Sam,” Bucky says into your skin, still loud enough for them to hear but he doesn’t get off you. You’re blushing, making eye contact with Bucky’s friends and wishing the ground will swallow you whole but Bucky just digs his teeth into the crook of your jaw and grins as he watches your eyes flutter shut. This mixture of embarrassment and unadulterated horniness is making your brain short-circuit.

“My eyes!” Sam cries as Natasha grabs him by the wrist and drags him from the garage. Not without a wink sent your way, and you’ll find time to be humiliated by that later. Right now, you’ve got Bucky’s mouth on yours to contend with and it’s going to take all of your attention.

Part 4

~~~

let me know what yall think of this part!! THANK YOU

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