#but it has gone missing and it’s not in any of the places I���ve looked
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I miss you, I’m sorry - Luke Hughes
“ When did I become so numb? When did I lose myself? All the words that leave my tongue feel like they came from someone else “
- paralyzed, nf
content warning: depression, mention of an abus!ve relationship. Toxic relationship.
Do not! read if this is something that triggers you!
word count: 1k
Do you remember happy together?
I do, don't you?
The covers are pulled up to his neck, eyes staring blankly at the wall. The dried tear tracks on his cheeks making the skin feel tight but he doesn’t have it in him anymore to care. It’s all he’s been doing for the last month, how there is any tears left to cry he’ll never understand but there are. His throat sore and scratchy from the sobs that’s been poring out of him like the sky when it rains. It’s never ending.
Good to each other, give it the summer
I knew, you too
But I only saw you once in December
I'm still confused
It didn’t come as a chock when she said she wanted a break. Nothing had been the same as it used to be. But even if it didn’t surprise him it still felt like a punch to his guts. ‘Only for the summer’ had been what she told him.
He didn’t know that only the summer would turn into months. Antagonising months wondering if she still loved him, if she still cared? He supposed she’d stopped doing both as the girl had gone radio silent on him.
The confusion is probably the hardest part. Wondering where he went wrong? What he did to make her scrutinise every little thing he did, if he could’ve done things different and maybe that would’ve made her stay.
It wasn’t until December he saw her again. On campus as he was walking to class together with Johnny and Luca. She didn’t look nearly as sad and hurt as he does. If at all.
She looked the same as she always had.
Then came what could be worded as the final blow.
Another man walking over and placing a kiss upon her lips, giggling as the unknown male hugged her after they pulled apart. Luca had made quick work of dragging Luke away from the sight. A desperate attempt of damage control.
He made it back to the sophomore house with the help of his friends before he broke down. Body shaking and incoherent mumbles falling from his lips. Curled into a ball on his bedroom floor.
Ethan had tried to get him to open the door, to let him in but he refused. All he wanted was for the ground to swallow him whole. Pull him down, down, down into its darkness until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Until his heart no longer feel like it’s been cut out of his chest.
You said, "forever," and I almost bought it.
I miss fighting in your old apartment
Breaking dishes when you're disappointed
When he finally gets some sleep, eyelids too heavy from exhaustion he can hear her voice in his dreams. Promising him that she will love him forever and more, that this is real. Then he wakes up and reality comes creeping back. The memories of screaming matches, the sound of porcelain breaking when she throws another glass at the wall.
Her face is red from screaming but there is no trace of actual sadness on her features. It’s only pure anger. Hands clenched at her sides before she grabs another item close to her, Luke has the chance to step aside before it hits him. He stands frozen for a couple of seconds before hastily putting on his shoes and half running out of her apartment.
His pulse feels like it’s beating a mile per millisecond. Cold sweats forming on the back of his neck.
He doesn’t say anything when he walks past the living room where all his teammates are gathered arguing about what movie to watch. He just hopes they won’t notice him because then he’ll have to explain why he’s been running in the middle of the night and why his eyes are bloodshot from crying.
Luckily for him nobody notifies the group of his presence if anyone saw him so he can slip inside his bedroom and lock the door behind him.
Sliding down the wall he leans his head in his hands. Wondering where it all went to shit.
Every corner of this house is haunted
And I know you said that we're not talking
But I miss you, I'm sorry
He knows about the whispers at parties, Dylan having told him from outside the door one night. How she tells everyone that they’re not together anymore. It seems as if everyone got the news of the breakup before he did. If there even had been a breakup to start with.
Luke hates how he misses her even after it all. Missing the girl he had made up in his mind.
She’s all over his room. Small things left behind that he hasn’t thrown away, he does not have it in him to return it. She hasn’t asked for any of it so there is a chance she’s forgotten it even existed in the first place. Just like she forgot him. The girl is no longer there but she still haunts him.
Everything I know brings me back to us
I don't wanna go, we've been here before
Everywhere I go leads me back to you
He longs for the day he won’t think of her the second he wakes. For the day he can do anything he wants without it reminding him of what they used to be.
The day he becomes free from the ghost of her haunting him every second of the day. That one day he will find someone that’s nothing like her.
Someone that won’t break his heart over and over again. That will love him as fearlessly as he loves, kindly and with honesty. That there is someone out there that will look at him as he is and don’t point out all the flaws and things he does wrong. Simply just love him as he is like how his brothers love him, like his parents love each other and how his friends love him too. No ulterior motives behind word they say and do.
As he sniffles and wipes the tears from his eyes he hopes that day will come soon. So his heart can finally stop breaking.
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future is past is present
[ @beastenraged ignore the fact that it's 12:43 when i post this. i finished this so y'all are gonna see it. have some references to friend's OCs as well.]
[nyx tenebris belongs to @voidgearr. aria fiore and linaria "ves" fiore belong to @void-feather. Seren Lleucu belongs to @ephemxras. technically these are all alucinari au versions of these ocs, but credit is due where credit is due.]
He's watching again. Watching, because one can never know what will go wrong when you've got two versions of Ruse fighting. (Especially because. . . it's Ruse. Who knows what kinds of things she can break without knowing.)
There are others here. As always. It's a new fight, a new face against one nearly identical (though -- this other Ruse, the Daymare's Fluorescence, seems a bit less healthy. Older, for one. Does she have the same chronic illness as the Mirage Arena's Radiant Nightmare? Has it been flaring up more? Has she been letting herself rest?). Faces that Riku knows, faces he's seen once or twice or faces that he's long-since memorized. Roxas announces the matches, a play-by-play commentary as he always does.
There's Queenie in the crowd, Riku notes, with Seren standing beside him, and Ves and Aria (in her Darkling form, rather than Pink Possessor -- understandable given the crowds) a small bit further back.
(And, of course, there's Nyx making his way through the crowds, but Riku is going to ignore Nyx for now and focus on more immediate things. Like the Xion -- black hair, similar to the Xion he knew but of course not the same -- sitting nearby.)
Riku turns to look at her -- and something in him tightens. There are tears in her eyes -- unshed, but still tears. It aches to see her upset like that (it aches to see any replica upset, any Riku or Replica but especially Replicas or Riku), and Riku folds his wings back, moving a bit closer. "Are you alright?"
She swallows, dabs at her face to get rid of any tears. "Yeah, I just. . ." She looks. . . so sad. And lonely. "It's fine. I miss people back home."
Riku knows that feeling -- a soft, understanding noise leaves him. "I understand. It can be difficult to leave what you've known behind." He's not aware of the story behind this Xion, Xehanort, this Ruse. But. . . they've ended up in the Mirage Arena some way or other, and he knows that feeling. That confusion, uncertainty of suddenly being in a new place. (Whether they're permanantly here or not is irrelevant, really.)
She looks at him, that Xion. Then asks. "Why are you so different from the Riku we know? You feel. . . like a different person entirely."
Riku freezes.
Of all the questions, it's that one to be asked, hmm?
"That is. . . a long story." He settles on. "It's not one many ask."
Still. Even with that vague answer, she looks at him expectantly. And perhaps it's the air of the evening -- perhaps it's the fact that it's Xion, or a version of her, a version of that sister of his. And perhaps it's that -- it's been long enough. Decades. Centuries. Millennia, even. Those who knew him as that broken, confused, tired boy are gone now, all except for Roxas and Genesis (the latter of which isn't here yet -- won't be, for some time, but his future is Riku's past, and like many things in the Mirage Arena time is nothing more than a vague guideline).
Riku sighs. Settles, more, lets his wings loosen and relax. Tail-tip flicking against the ground, like a cat's might. "To be entirely honest," he begins, "my name is Riku, but I'm more like your Rook than your Riku." And then, to be sure she doesn't misinterpret, he adds, "I'm a Replica. I. . . switched places with my worldline's Riku, and thought I was him, and eventually ended up here. Everyone assumes I'm a variation of him -- which, isn't technically untrue, though it isn't the way that they think."
There. That's a palatable-enough summary. Cut out the bloodshed and face of a dying boy realized just-too-late that he was the real one and not an illusion. Cut out the confusion and twisted tangled memories and question of identity. Cut out the way that Riku had fallen apart and broken entirely when Genesis found him, and later Roxas, and carefully fitted the broken pieces together until Riku was a functioning being again. (Being a happy person took a lot longer. But still. Genesis put a lot of effort into it. There is a reason why Riku and Roxas mourned when Ultimeccia slayed him and overthrew him. There is a reason why Riku and Roxas are so quick to look at Ven and his twin, these two children that Genesis adopts, these two children that Genesis had talked so fondly of back when he'd still been alive. Back before his large, feathered wing turned from glossy iridescent raven black to pale ashy gray, before he had died. Past and future all tangled and twisted around.)
Riku offers this other Xion a small shrug. "It doesn't really get talked about much, and I'd appreciate if you don't go shouting about it to everyone. We're all allowed our secrets, mundane as they are, yes?" He gives her a fanged smile. She sees no danger in it. (Good.)
The fight ends. Roxas' voice calls over the cheering of the crowd, announcing the winner. Oh, it's the other Ruse. The older one, more scarred one. (She won't stick around to stay for more fights, won't stay to cement her place in the Mirage Arena. This Ruse -- and Xion, and Xehanort -- is only a visitor. Riku's learned to feel for these things, in the many years he has lived here.) "That's your friend who's won." He comments, to the black-haired girl beside him. Mirror of his once-sister. "Shall we go congratulate her?"
He stands. Begins making his way through the crowds. Eventually meets Nyx.
"Hey Riku!" Says the man (young only by relativity), slinging an arm over Riku's shoulder. "Guess what?"
Riku hums in response. Lets Nyx sweep him up in idle chatter about what this person did or what that person said, about what the Starseers were up to that week, and so on. Mundane things. Things that keep Riku just a bit too connected to the Mirage Arena to ever fade away or die, just as Roxas is too connected to the Mirage Arena, the way that so many others who had been alive in their time had done.
(That is how the Mirage Arena works, after all. If you connect yourself to it -- if you are tied to it deeply enough -- then you will live for as long as it exists, unless someone is to kill you. Unless you are disconnected enough that you fade. And that is why Riku lets himself be tied to his desk and his manager job, why Roxas ties himself to his announcer job, why Axel keeps himself busy with maintaining the little details. Tied to the Mirage Arena like this, they live forever. And it's only slightly lonely.)
Riku spares half a thought for that Ruse and her Xion and Xehanort -- but Ven and Vanitas will find them, and the three will be guided around to wherever they are led. Ven and Vanitas will find Genesis, Riku is sure. Either by Sephiroth's guiding or by Genesis' own first visit to the Mirage Arena.
(And if Genesis does appear in the Mirage Arena for the first time in his present, well -- Riku and Roxas will be there to greet him. Like Genesis had greeted them all those millennia ago, when he'd still been alive.
As much as it'll hurt to see Genesis again, younger and not knowing Riku at all yet. . . Riku finds himself looking forward to it. It'll be good to see the man who'd become almost like a father to him. To share kindness and a good introduction to the Mirage Arena, if nothing else. Riku can hope.)
[ nyx tenebris belongs to @voidgearr . aria fiore and linaria "ves" fiore belong to @void-feather . Seren Lleucu belongs to @ephemxras . technically these are all alucinari au versions of these ocs, but credit is due where credit is due.]
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Last flash fiction prompt for the evening! @jesperr-fahey requested something with Frenchie and Jim being pals. I absolutely adore the two of them, so thank you so much for this prompt!! This was also inspired by @strawberrypirates ‘ art of Jim and Frenchie being sneaky, which is my absolute favourite and has lived in my brain rent free since I saw it, you should all go look at it here.
Tw for alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.
--
“This is a terrible plan,” Jim breathed, hiding behind a crate and scanning the dark deck. “We’re so going to get caught.”
“It’s a great plan,” Frenchie whispered, crouching right behind them. “And what’s the worst that they’ll do if they catch us?”
“Flog us,” Jim muttered. “Keelhaul us. Izzy’s been threatening to hang someone up by their toes –“
“Right. Which is exactly why we need to do this in the first place. We need a break, or the next time Jizzy Izzy threatens someone you’ll try stabbing him. Again.”
Jim exhaled. He wasn’t wrong. They were wound tight, and they needed a break. And really – it wasn’t the worst plan. And it was already half done, wasn’t it? They’d already snuck into the hold and stolen a bottle of rum, which was tucked deep in one of Frenchie’s pockets. Now they just had to make their way up to the crow’s nest, and they’d be golden.
“Dios. Fine. C’mon.”
They slipped across the deck, ducking behind the mast just as Ivan started to turn their way. Reached behind them, tangled their hand in Frenchie’s coat, and dragged him along with them. He pressed in beside them, freezing, listening for any sound that Ivan had seen them –
Nothing. Total quiet.
Good. Jim breathed. They let go of Frenchie’s coat, then slowly poked their head out around the mast, squinting to see where Ivan was in the darkness. A hand landed on their shoulder, Frenchie leaning over them to do the same.
“Tall bastard,” Jim muttered under their breath.
“Don’t be jealous, babe,” Frenchie whispered back, grin audible in his voice, “someday you’ll grow tall too –“
Jim elbowed him in the side. The wheeze he tried to smother was totally worth the risk.
Across the deck, Ivan turned his back on them, and started walking away. They tracked him across the deck, into the corridor leading to the captain’s quarters –
“¡Ve! Ve! Ve!” Jim whispered, waving their hand in the universal motion for ‘go’. “He’s gone, go –“
Frenchie slipped around them, stealthily running for the nearest rigging. Jim was right behind, holding it steady as he started to climb, then scampering up after him. They were both good at this, light and quick and so very fast. There was no wind tonight, and it was easy, clambering up and up and up until they could haul themself into the crow’s nest, collapse beside Frenchie and try and hold in their laughter.
It felt good, sneaking, hiding, getting away with shit. Fuck, this was fun.
Frenchie’s grin was bright in the moonlight, feet stretching across the crow’s nest to press against the wooden boards at Jim’s side. Jim did the same, pressing their spine into the wood behind them, letting themself stretch and slouch into something that felt so safe and secure that they never wanted to leave. They were so high above the ship, so high above the world, just the stars and the moon and their friend to keep them company. No one could find them up here, no one could curse them out or remind them of their missing friends or how much they had failed them –
Frenchie nudged their ribs with one foot. Jim’s gaze snapped to him, only then realizing the way their breathing was quickening, the way their hands clenched into fists. They exhaled. Forced their hands to unclench. Took the bottle when he held it out.
The rum burned going down, a cleansing fire, centering them back to this moment. To the wind, the stars, and Frenchie.This had been fun. This was fun. They could let it be fun, couldn’t they?
“Cheers, m’dear,” he said with a soft smile, toasting them once the bottle was back in his hand. “May we have better days and better nights.”
They breathed in the salt of the air, let the calm lapping of the waves far below wash over them. This was good. This moment, right here, was good. And wasn’t that enough for now?
“Sí,” they whispered back, letting the wings of their shoulder blades dig into the wood behind them, pressing into Frenchie’s foot at their side. “Better days.”
#jim jimenez#Frenchie#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd fanfiction#flash fiction#tragicallynerdy writes#jesperr-fahey#alcohol mention
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When he woke that morning, Lloyd could feel that the chill in the air was strikingly colder than normal; the cup of coffee in his hands a welcome warmth to combat this stubborn onset of winter. Even though his shouting at the Stars hadn't brought them spring yet, it was still a little unusual for it to be so dark at the start of the day; peering through the curtains of his room in search of the sun, only to find a heavy blanket of mist there instead.
The sight of it instantly stilled him, brown eyes widening as he felt the ceramic mug almost slip from his fingers. Without a word, the swordsman bounded from the window, grabbing his jacket and running out the door.
It looked.. exactly like it had over a year ago, when the strange phenomenon brought people to the island from their memories. They weren't brought here in the same way he had been from Aselia, and maybe from the Stars point of view, they weren't even really there at all.. but Lloyd couldn't disagree with them more. Even if they were only images, at their core, those people were the same as the ones he loved so dearly; fondly remembering the time he'd once lost with his mother.. and reuniting with the father who'd been by his side for as long as he could remember.
If the mist that once brought them here was back, then.. what about them? Did they return, too? Would he be able to see either of them again?
Just as those thoughts seeped into his head, tearing his way through the forest around the forge, Lloyd came to a sudden stop as a familiar figure began cutting through the mist; his chest heaving with laboured breath as he stood still in one place, as if almost afraid to move. Yet as the man slowly became clearer and clearer, smiling his way once their eyes were able to meet.. Lloyd didn't feel that bursting, bounding excitement that he had in the past. Instead, sheer relief seemed to take control of him as he rushed forward; wrapping his arms tightly around his father's smaller form and burying his head into his shoulder.
"There ya are, boy! Thought I'd find ye here again," with a laugh, Dirk raised his arms in return, hugging his son back with all the force he could muster. Though it didn't take him long to realize that something was amiss, noting that the boy was strangely quieter than usual. "Lloyd? What's the matter?"
But no words left the brunette as he stayed within his father's arms, and before he realized.. warm tears began streaming down his face; as quiet, broken sobs heaved from his chest. He gripped onto Dirk tighter, shaking in his hold.. and all the dwarf could do was sigh, patting the boy on the back.
"Come on, now. Yer alright. Don't ye remember what I told you when I left before? You've never been alone, son. Even if ye couldn't see me, 've still been by yer side," for a moment, Dirk felt as though he had walked into the past, consoling Lloyd like he had many times when he was a baby. It had been quite a long time since he'd seen him cry like this.. but there was good reason for it, he was sure.
After a moment, Lloyd found the strength to nod his head; lifting up a hand to wipe at the moisture building in his eyes.
"Y.. yeah.. I know, dad, I just.." when he pulled away, he revealed the mess that his face had become; the redness under his eyes, the weariness in his expression.. but despite that, the brunette was able to smile a little, laughing slightly at his reaction. "I'm.. so happy that you're here again. So much has happened while you were gone, and I.."
At that, Dirk raised a hand, effectively silencing Lloyd before he carried on any further.
"Let's get you home first. Y'can tell me everything 've missed once we get there. Alright?"
".. yeah. It's cold out-- I'll put a new pot of coffee on for us."
#isola drabble#event: mistified (rerun)#I WAS GONNA MAKE THIS SHORT AND THEN I. HELP#fellas do u ever get so overwhelmed with emotions that u have a breakdown in front of your parent bc HOO BOY THE LAST YEAR WAS A WILD RIDE#anyway i'm normal bye
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Hello~ It's already 5/15 for me, so I'm going ahead to post for Taichi Yagami week because I have to leave for the day. It's a bleak little ficlet, lol.
Thanks so much to the organizers for reminding me how much I love this boy ❤️
Day 1 prompt: Hikari & Agumon
An alarm beeps. A siren wails.
Taichi bargains with his heavy lids to open. For a moment he lies still on his bed, looking up at the top bunk, which is empty. Through the door he hears his father cough, the rustle of the newspaper. But no sound of breakfast cooking, no cheerful humming along with the radio. His mother hasn’t come home yet. She must still be at the hospital.
He glances at the desk. Most nights a cup of water is placed by the bed for him. This morning, there is a cup, the same one which has been sitting in the same spot for two days with nothing in it. Only a slight smudge remains where his lips pressed against the glass.
For the first time in his young life, Taichi thinks he understands why people call it "missing." Someone isn't where they're meant to be, they're missing, it's not a change in routine or lifestyle - they're just gone. Emptiness increases the longing for fullness. Absence sharpens presence.
These so-called “grown up” feelings aren’t really so grown-up. Just a bit abstract. You don’t need words to feel them. Simply pain, which any child can understand.
It’s also the first time the pain doesn’t go away. Not yesterday, not today.
Not tomorrow, either, when his parents finally bring his sister home from the hospital, her skin so gray and fragile, like wet paper. Not a year from now, when a virus going around the school warrants a trip to the ER “just in case.”
I'm here to stay, the pain says. You better make room for me.
So he does.
Everyone who knows him would say Taichi is a typical little boy: active, mischievous, and rather thoughtless. If ever they catch him slipping an apple into his sister’s backpack to make sure she’ll keep up her energy, they share a smile with the other adults: "How cute." If they hear him remind her to wear a sweater, or take it off when she starts to sweat, they chuckle and mutter that if there’s hope for a rascal like him, there’s hope for anyone.
The truth is that the glass which sat empty on the desk for two days is still there, in Taichi’s mind. That as much as he seems to live in the moment, there are mornings that he wakes seized with the urge to check that the top bunk is occupied. It always is. And the glass is always clean, always full.
But these things don't make him happy, even though they should. He wants more. So much more that he’ll never have to fear they’ll run out.
Those mornings, he stands before the mirror trying to do something about his mess of hair. His reflection mouths the word: ‘Selfish.'
And, for a minute, he can't move.
—
“Taichi, what are those?”
“Hmm?” Glancing over his shoulder, Taichi follows his partner’s pointed claw to the low table. “Oh, those are daffodils.”
“Daffodils?” Agumon’s brow knits as his head tips to one side.
“That’s what they’re called. Hikari brought some. I guess she went to take photos in the mountains, and found these growing wild. She made me take them because my apartment isn’t instagram-worthy.”
Agumon looks only more confused by this explanation.
“Means she thinks it’s a sad, dark, unartistic place to live,” Taichi laughs. As a matter of fact, when Hikari put the flowers on his table she mentioned something about how daffodils represent new beginnings. Then she made him promise to keep them alive as long as possible. That’s the only reason he changes the water faithfully every day, but no matter how well-cared for, cut flowers can only last so long.
Agumon climbs into Taichi’s lap, neck twisted to continue to stare at the cheap dollar-store glass containing the bouquet of daffodils with their yellow cups. Taichi reaches down to scratch his head.
“Well, I agree with her,” Agumon announces after a while, as if he’d been deep in deliberation. “Your new home is very unartistic.”
“You don’t even know what that means,” Taichi scoffs, but Agumon fixes him with a look.
“I know I like those daffodils, and I don’t like your apartment. Why don’t you live somewhere else?”
“Somewhere else is too expensive.”
“Hmph. Well, then you’re going to need more daffodils. A lot more.”
Taichi bites back a smile. A Digimon can’t be expected to understand things like rent and paying bills on time. Of course, it would be nice to have more than just the one window - more than just the one room. But Taichi doesn’t spend much time at home during the week anyway. This apartment doesn’t require much cleaning or maintenance - and any twenty-year-old college student can appreciate that. It’s a place to rest his head and store his things. A “for now” place - not where he means to live forever.
“I don’t really like flowers, you know,” he says eventually. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bit dreary here, I’ll give you that. But I don’t need lots of decorations. I’ve got you to cheer me up.”
“What about when I’m not here, though?” Now Agumon leans back to blink at Taichi with eyes just as wide and guileless as they’d been ten years ago.
“Well, then I’ll call you over.”
“What if I can’t come?”
Something tightens in his chest. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you come?”
The two of them have fought in hundreds of battles. Taichi knows, any one of them could have separated them forever. But those great victories over ruthless enemies never come to mind at times like this.
The only one that does involves a Colosseum in a desert, the taste of sand on his tongue, and some very poor decisions.
He should not have wanted so much. But desire is strong.
Without it, he's afraid of who he becomes.
Agumon shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you don’t know, it’s not a problem,” answers Taichi, dragging himself out of that old, familiar dungeon. Then, quickly, before Agumon can come up with a way to refute this, he slides the tin of snacks out from under the bed. “Okay, you’ve got a choice: fish sticks with cheese or spicy tortilla chips. Which will it be?”
Agumon immediately launches into his usual spiel on “why can’t I have both,” and Taichi does his best to listen to it. To indulge him, like it can somehow make up for coming so close to losing him forever.
To be with him, here, in the small, drab apartment, where the one bright spot in the room is a glass of wilting daffodils - a gift from someone else he almost lost.
To live in the moment, and not in the emptiness that follows him around, unspooling time, always, always.
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Fulfillment Fridays: The pros and cons of being a BADDIE
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹Fulfillment Friday🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
Bad Bitchery aside, learning to love ourselves IS a destructive process. Most people don´t understand that we have to purge what doesn't serve us and build on what does. The journey to self-worth is a tumultuous one but liberating. Here are a few pros and cons of loving yourself.
Zandile Tshabalala
Cons
Not taking any shit!
For some folks, checking and correcting people about their actions is really easy, but for others, It can be debilitating. In past lives, we were silenced and displaced for asking for what was ours. We´ve come into these new lives and now know what we deserve. Still, standing up for ourselves is a painful reminder of betrayal. It is on us to ask for what we need, but it´s on those we rely on to provide it. If they can´t, take NO SHIT. Walk away and search for where you will be fulfilled.
2. Missing out on old fun
There will come seasons of our lives where hanging out with certain people and doing certain things just doesn't get us where we want to go. Maybe dancing at bars was your go-to in college, but now you just want to get drinks and laugh. Maybe it's the reverse. Maybe all your friends have an idea of fun that does not match your own. As you grow into the person you're meant to be, much of what you used to do isn't congruent with who you are. Finding a happy medium is sometimes the way to go until you can discover who and what works best for you. It is better to come out of spaces and places that fulfill you before they spit you out.
3. Sexxy Solitude
Solitude doesn´t feel all that sexy, but I promise it is necessary to become the best version of yourself. If you never learn to quiet others and remove yourself from certain situations, you will always be in something. Sometimes you´re sexxy, so they're nervous. Other times you're nervous because you´re sexxy. Don´t take anything personally because a lot of time, other people´s mess has nothing to do with you. Learn to quiet the noise and become comfortable with your presence. We are born alone and die alone. This certainly does not mean you have to live alone, but getting to the other side of things means walking through certain doors without other's help. Solitude is a transient experience. Be patient and let self-love take over.
Pros
Investing time and money into you!
It is difficult taking time out for ourselves, but you have to wash your ass, or YOU WILL stink. The facts of life. Becoming the best version of yourself is finding joy in the time you take cooking and cleaning for yourself. It is putting in effort to go out to certain places and experiencing enrichment and joy. I love it when I give time to oiling my scalp and getting a great massage. It is money, it is time, but it is so worth it when you look to yourself and see release.
2. Having real love around you!
This one is probably the most beautiful for me. I have gone through so many seasons of life where I did not feel loved and accepted for who I am. The care felt fake, and the lack of consideration made me feel cheap. I have found some really cool people I will value for life, but I am still looking for more folks who will value and elevate me. I am still looking for Intentional people who are intentional about the same things I am intentional about. That can be hard, but I think our 20s are for that. Falling out and in love. As you get to know yourself, you get to know people who fulfill you and accept you as you are. The most beautiful thing is to know others and to love them. To love and be loved, is to be changed.
3. Impeccable taste
To know yourself is to be specific. It is to look for what fulfills you and not others. It is setting the tone in your life and not looking back or accepting less. You deserve to have what makes you feel good and what fulfills you. IT girls like JT, Megan Thee Stallion, Rihanna, Anok Yai, and Uncle Waffles are known for their specific looks and vibes. They are some of the coolest out there, you can be just as cool just hone into you.
What are some of the ways you could love yourself more?
Well, That´s all folks!!!
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Parrott and Riis give Canaries the bird
If anyone would have asked me a five past three on Saturday if I thought North End could win this game I would have probably returned a negative answer. A goal down inside two minutes away to the joint top of the league wasn`t particularly the best start after a two hundred and fifty mile trip. However, after the initial onslaught from the home side, North End got into gear and produced a performance to warm the cockles of the five hundred plus travelling fans who had made the trip to Norfolk to cheer the boys on. Norwich have, probably, the best strike force in the division in Pukki and Sargent but it was the much maligned Parrott and Riis who stole the show for Ryan Lowe`s boys and tore up the script of what was, on paper, a very likely home win with the Canaries unbeaten at home this season and unbeaten in ten games prior to the visit of North End.
Ryan Lowe decided to name the same eleven that beat West Brom on Wednesday evening ahead of North End`s toughest trip of the season so far. Things did not start well for us and within two minutes Whiteman lost a tackle and Sargent cut in along the North End box and fired home to give Norwich the lead. It was a hectic first ten minutes and North End were under the pump but we gradually found our stride and started to get in the game particularly down the flanks. Pukki missed a golden opportunity to make it two for the home side but with twenty five minutes gone Emil Riis put North End level with a well placed header from Brady`s cross which beat Krul at his left hand post. Norwich should have been down to ten men why Byram tackled Browne with studs up at knee height. Incredibly it was only deemed a yellow card. North End had another chance right on half time but Byram blocked an effort from Riis.
Ryan Lowe made one change at half time with Troy Parrot coming on to replace Sean Maguire who had put in a real shift in the first half. With fifty two minutes gone North End took the lead when Fernandez threaded a fantastic ball through the Norwich defence that was met by Riis who made no mistake in slotting past Krul. There was one chance each before Norwich leveled with fifteen minutes to go when Sara scored for the Canaries after Pukki had pulled the ball back. It looked like it was going to be a backs to the wall rearguard action for North End in the last quarter of an hour but far from it as Parrott went through in the inside left position and his pull back took a big deflection and ended up in the back of the net. The action wasn`t done though and Norwich thought they had equalised late on only for the referee to spot a foul by Hanley and with that the points were back on their way up to Lancashire.
A fabulous victory for North End against the odds and proof, if any were needed, that this side has got spirit and the ability to come back from adversity. We`ve seen Ryan Lowe`s side turned over big time on a couple of occasion during his tenure at Deepdale but I think the manager is getting wise regarding not being over run in midfield in this division. So a very good week for North End with seven points out of nine in October so far and the two wins start to make all those draws look decent results. Only Burnley have lost fewer games than North End in the section and long may it continue as North End currently sit eighth in the Championship just two points behind the play offs and five behind the leaders. Of course it is early days yet and it could all change very quickly in this division as we know but if anyone had said at the start of the season we would be two points from the play offs after thirteen games I think most people would have taken it. So far, so good.
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NORWICH CITY 2-3 PRESTON
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WOODMAN 8
STOREY 7 LINDSAY 8 CUNNINGHAM 7
BROWNE 7 McCANN 7 WHITEMAN 7 FERNANDEZ 8
BRADY 7 MAGUIRE 7
RIIS 8
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Subs:-
WOODBURN 6
PARROTT 7
HUGHES 6
LEDSON 6
JOHNSON 6
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MOTM: Alvaro Fernandez
Attendance 26,062
Preston Fans 525 (2.01%)
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Thelreads, Vigilantes 72, Replies Part 1
1) “Oh boy, it is time… I`m not ready for what is to come, that`s for sure. That last chapter…. Pop was captured and now- now she`s gonna be the next queen.”- The queen is dead, Long live the new queen…assuming Knuckle left from instructions behind for how to safely remove a brain parasite without killing the host…
2) “Oh hey, ddin`t took look for you guys to realize something was wrong at least. And there is my dumbass son, on his dumbass fancy suit. Oh dear god he has absolutely no idea what`s going on.”- The call to heroism is unexpected and yet, at the same time, waits for no man.
3) “yeah koichi, welcome to reality, you`re gonna hater what`s to come. I know I will.
…
oh dear god pop`s gonna lose an eye to become the queen oh jesus fuck nooooo”- And also possibly be dealing with lasting nerve damage, given how Tamao was struggling to properly play the guitar whilst recovering in hospital. In Pop’s case, it’ll likely affect her ability to perform acrobatic stunts with her quirk whilst on stage like she used to.
4) “WHY WOULD YOU THAT FURUHASHI
I SEE WHAT YOU DOING HERE, SHE`S ACROSS THE BARRIER, BECAUSE SHE`S OUT OF REACH FOR THEM
SINCE SHE`S GONE. POP`S GONE. NOW ONLY THE QUEEN REMAINS”-Lines crossed, paths diverged, almost certainly irrevocably. That Pop only exists in memory now – even if she ever recovers, her face and visual faculties will forever be marked by the parasite’s entry into her head, so now that happy, smiling, full-faced innocent Pop is forever lost to the world.
5) “Well, being honest I shouldn`t be surprised that you guys found it weird, Pop`s the one in charge of this whole operation, for her to not be present then she`s either extremely sick or she`s having a parasitic mutant insect being inserted into her brain OH GOOD LORD I`M NOT OKAY WITH THIS AT ALL”- I’d say it can’t get any worse….but that’d be a lie.
6) “Well, it`s a bit too late to be going all “it`s my fault, I should`ve done X” now, the thing you guys should be doing is trying to fine where her corpse is being puppet`d to right now.”- Koichi will have plenty of time to ruminate on how he could have avoided this situation, now he’s realised how much he was taking Pop for granted.
7) “Yeah, well, it`s not like Koichi wouldn`t want to listen, she simply didn`t wanted to tell him about it, she was intentionally keeping it a secret after all. Koichi might be dumb, but she`s always listening, for him to not know would mean that she really didn`t wanted him to know.”- Pop’s tsundere attitude and refusal to open up to anybody who could possibly leak her feeling back to Koichi before she’s ready to tell him herself have worked greatly in No:6’s favour. Koichi and the rest have zero idea he even exists, or approached them under a false identity, and now he’s vanished with Pop and they have no idea what could have even prompted this situation in the first place.
8) “GO GO GRANDMAS, THE TIME TO USE YOUR CONNECTIONS TO THE UNDERWORLD HAS COME. ASK GIRAN, HE CAN POINT YOU TO THE RIGHT PEOPLE, YOU MIGHT FIND SOME TRACE OF POP”- Judging by chapter’s end, If Knuckle didn’t keep that magical bullshit Taser lying around, Koichi might very well have to dabble in criminal activities himself if he wants to gain the necessary tools to save Pop.
9) “Erm, guys? Guys, the police? Phelps? You thought about contacting him already? You know, he kinda is in debt with Koichi, he might be able to help looking for her? it doesn`t even need to be an official police missing report, he would do that freely? guys?”- Technically, it needs to be 24 hours passed before Pop can be officially counted as a missing person, and Phelps is, ironically, probably still busy trying to track down the Villain Factory, not to mention I don’t think that Koichi even has his direct number? He’s got Makoto’s, but that’s more of an intermediary to reach him, and given from their perspective that they don’t know for certain that Pop isn’t in danger or why she’s suddenly unavailable, they probably assumed that it was unlikely they could get an official police presence involved until more time had passed and it became clearer something was wrong, unaware that the police were already involved… which, in retrospect, also ties into the general lack of enthusiasm and dislike of getting the ‘Fuzz’ involved that the vigilantes and their gang of allies have been dealing with since day 1, even with the extremely violent Knuckleduster absent. It almost ties into the separation between the ‘ordinaries’ and the ‘authorities’ that is currently the crux of the ongoing war in MHA, a dislike of the establishment and its authority figures getting involved because they don’t seem to treat the little guy fairly.
10) “I`m in a serious conflict here. Either I continue to joke about everything and believe that Furuhashi will pussy out of this and Pop is fine because, well, it is Furuhashi after all- but at the same time, furuhashi has never backed out of making Pop`s life miserable every opportunity he had… And ripping off her eye to turn her into a possessed villain would be the ultimate middle finger he could give to her. I do not know which one I want to believe to be the case.”- Turns out, the painful outcome was the correct one. The kid gloves are off for good, and now things are getting serious.
11) “Koichi.
I swear to go, I will murder you.
Do you at least know her real name?
oh my fucking god do you know her name???”- Did Koichi ever once refer to her as anything but her alias ‘Pop’ throughout all the chapters they’ve been together? In hindsight, that was arguably the biggest indicator of the separation between them, as whilst Pop knew everything about Koichi, even the parts he was unaware of her presence for, he never knew enough about her in turn. He never even realised it, but thanks to her tsundere nature making her reflexively push him away when things were getting too ‘real’ for her, he never actually connected with her. Heck, even Izuku knew Uraraka’s actual name when they first met, and he was a stammering mess that couldn’t even talk back to her. The two seemed close, but when you actually look at how much Koichi knew about Pop, it becomes clear that if anything, he’s miles behind Izuku and Uraraka’s relationship, and he never realised that until it was taken away.
12) “Yeah, shame that we got like, five chapters at best showing you two being friends or at the very least close. Not that you two didn`t did stuff together, the Crab revolution was some good interactions, but… you two weren`t shown to be a duo that was always together. Hell, the time skip only made things worse, because it all feels like it was less than a year, not almost three of them.”- This is chapter 71, which is less than half of where MHA’s story has progressed to by the current stage. Even with extended monthly chapters, overall there’s really not been a lot of time devoted to deepening Koichi and Pop’s bond compared to the ongoing story threads about the Villain Factory and their various experiments. Heck, there was even a sizable number of chapter’s devoted solely to Aizawa’s backstory, a character who gets more focus and screen time in the main series, than the main duo of this one.
13) “HA. FUCKING. HA. FURHASHI. SO HILARIOUS. EVEN MORE BY SHOWING THE BOARD OF SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT MEMORIES WE NEVER SAW BEING MADE.”- Or, a reminder than the time has finally come for him to hero up and finally wield his master’s hard-edge vigilante justice to save somebody in need, because this isn’t a situation he can afford to delegate to the authorities for once- he’s gotta solve it himself.
14) “…
wait… Wait you- no- no wait a second, Furuhashi is not doing what I think he is doing right now, is he? He`s not using her disappearance as a way to force koichi to “figure things out” between him and her, is he?
FURUHASHI. I SWEAR TO GOD IF KOICHI DECIDES THAT HE LOVES POP THIS CHAPTER, I WILL BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSE.”- Well, he hasn’t figured out of he loves her or not, but now he’s faced with the more pressing question if there’s even anything left of ‘Pop’ in there anymore. If No:6 re-grew that hive, he might have spent some time tweaking the bees to make it moe difficult to safely separate the parasite and the host like Knuckle did last time. Learning from their encounters with the vigilantes has been the Factory’s modus operandi for a while now, after all.
@thelreads
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In a Heartbeat - Six
Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader
Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.
Warnings: Fluff, Language, Implied Smut, Angst, Injuries, Angst,
Word Count: 2.9K
A/n: hi here’s the second last part! I hope you guys enjoy. I’m in a weird place mentally right now because there’s been so much going on in my family life that I have no idea how to process. But I hope you guys enjoy this because I really enjoyed writing it. We will have one more part and then this series will be finished!!!
Series Masterlist
~*~
The smell of coffee pulls you from your sleep.
Eyelids flutter open and you’re confused for a moment until you remember last night. A small smile spreads across your face and you stretch in Bucky’s bed, taking note of the sore spots on your body.
You push yourself to a seated position and take a look around the room.
Bucky’s gone, but you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.
You slowly leave the bed and walk to the bathroom, stopping on your way to pick up your discarded clothes.
After you’ve finished, you make your way to the kitchen, your heart filling with warmth when you see him.
He’s got his bare back to you as he prepares something, wearing nothing more than a pair of sweatpants.
“Morning,” you whisper, trying not to startle him. He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Good morning.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
He stops whatever he was doing and holds your hands, leaning into your touch and sighing.
“How’d you sleep last night?” He asks after a moment of silence, pulling a pan off of the hot element then turning around to look at you.
You smile up at him and he swears his heart melts.
You're so beautiful. Glowing and angelic in the early morning sunlight peeking through a partially opened window.
“Not too bad at all.” He smiles, leaning down to press a soft and sweet kiss to your lips.
“Yeah, same here. Got far more sleep than I should’ve, though,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck. A soft sigh slips past your lips and your head falls back, granting him more access.
His hands find your hips and he hoists you up onto the counter, knocking a glass off and sending it shattering to the floor.
“Jesus!” You exclaim, jumping at the sound and hitting your forehead against Bucky’s. The two of you groan, the brunet’s eyes widening with fear.
“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, looking between the broken glass, your face, and your chest as if to see if your heart’s about to give out.
You smile softly at him and cup his cheeks gently, pulling his face up until he’s looking at you.
“It’s okay, James. I promise I’m not as fragile as you think. I can handle a few loud noises.”
He sighs and bumps his nose against yours a few times before lowering his head to the crook of your neck.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I worry about you, (Y/n).” You wrap your arms around his torso tightly, one hand finding its way into his hair to massage his scalp.
“I worry about you too. Of the two of us, I think you’re more at risk than I am.” He chuckles against your clavicle and shakes his head, pressing his lips against your skin while mumbling “it’s not a competition to see who’ll die first.” Then he pulls away to stand upright and look at you with those piercing blue eyes of his.
“But just because my line of work is dangerous doesn’t ever mean that I don’t worry about you.” You lean up and kiss him softly, ending the conversation as your lips move more passionately against his.
He pulls away after a long moment, eyes dark and lips kiss-swollen.
“You stay up here while I clean this up. Then... how about we take this to the bedroom?” You nod, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you watch his muscles flex while he cleans up the broken glass.
~*~
You sit in front of your apartment in Bucky’s truck, his hand in yours as the two of you talk about your heart.
“I’m not as fragile as you think I am, James,” you reiterate for the thousandth time. He sighs, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.
“I just want you to be safe, doll. I want what’s best for you.” His words anger you far more than they should and you pull your hand from his grasp.
“I wish everyone would stop assuming that they know what I need. Everyone always thinks that they know what’s best for me but they don't! I know what’s best for me. I’m sick of being treated like a child because of my illness. I just want someone to take my side for once and let me be me and live my life the way I want to! Is that really so much to ask?!”
Your outburst has your heart beating hard and, as if sensing that, Bucky tries desperately to defuse the situation.
“Doll, I do have your side, I just-”
“No! That should be it! If you had my side you wouldn’t be justifying treating me like a child, James.” He frowns, reaching for your hand only for you to pull it out of reach.
“I-I’m just gonna go.” You leave his truck without another word, frustrated and flustered but not willing to go back on what you said.
He sits in front of your building, three little words on the tip of his tongue and absolutely flabbergasted with the way the day has taken a turn. Things started off so well this morning.
You rake your hands through your hair, glancing at your phone as it starts to ring.
You can’t talk to him right now. Maybe later, but not right now.
Half an hour later, Natasha is blowing up your phone too.
You don’t want to talk to them.
You feel like shit for blowing up on Bucky like that but you needed to get your point across. All your life you’ve been treated like a child, even into adulthood. Nat hovers around you like a mother hen and now Bucky’s doing the same.
It absolutely isn’t unreasonable of you to want them to treat you like an equal. As much as they say that you’re more than your illness, you know that they still see it whenever they look at you, and you absolutely hate that.
~*~
“Miss (Y/l/n), can I use the washroom?” You glance over at the little girl before smiling softly.
“Not until Tommy comes back, Sammy. We can’t have too many of you out at one time, okay?” She nods, thumb in her mouth as she resumes her colouring.
You’re doing your rounds, making sure all the students are doing well when the blaring of the fire alarm goes off.
A few kids scream in fear, but you shush them quickly, eyes finding Wanda’s as ice shoots through your veins.
You’re not supposed to have a fire drill today.
“Okay everyone, single file. Follow me. Leave everything where it is, okay? We’ve gotta get out just like we always practiced. Right outside onto the field, c’mon,” Wanda says, standing up and leading the way out of the classroom. You stay at the back, waiting until all the children are out of the room before closing the door and following after them.
You descend the stairs, dark clouds of smoke already filling the hallways and making kids cry.
The school is hectic and chaotic as all the teachers try to get their students to safety.
As you reach the field you stop dead in your tracks, looking at Wanda with wide eyes.
“Tommy’s in the bathroom,” you whisper, horror plain as day on your face as you turn back to the burning building.
Smoke is pouring out of a few open windows, and the last few people are trickling out, some of them crying, some of them laughing, thinking it’s a game.
Sirens fill the air but you’re already running back to the building, knowing he’d be far too terrified to leave the safety of the bathroom.
“(Y/n) no! Wait for the fire department!” She shouts, but it’s too late. You’re already back in the building, a wall of heat slamming into you.
You take a few careful breaths then take the stairs two at a time in your haste to find the boy.
Your heart is already beating far too fast, you know that, but you can’t stop. Not now. Even as the smoke rises and the air gets stuffier you continue up the stairs.
Tommy’s somewhere in the burning building and you’re not going to leave him.
“Tommy!” You shout, squinting as a cloud of black clouds your vision right as you reach the second floor.
You crouch down, pulling the hem of your blouse up to cover your mouth and nose. It’s both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it prevents smoke inhalation, but on the other hand, it’s preventing you from getting the oxygen you need.
“Tommy!” You try again, pushing your way through the familiar halls until you get to the boys’ bathroom.
You hear faint crying and you swear your heart shatters in your chest.
“Tommy!” You push into the bathroom and find Tommy cowering against the far wall, tears staining his cheeks.
“M-Miss (Y/l/n)!” He scrambles to his feet and launches himself at you, hugging you around your waist and sobbing against your chest. You kneel down with him, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back.
“I-I didn't know wh-what to d-do and I was s-scared!” He cries, sniffling against you and holding onto you for dear life.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay. But we need to leave. Do you remember what your daddy told you about fires? Cause I’m gonna need you to be my personal fireman, okay?” He sniffles a few times then nods, pulling away to wipe the tears from his eyes and take a few deep breaths.
“Alright. Let’s go.” You push out of the bathroom and are instantly hit with intense heat and the stench of smoke.
You push Tommy’s head down and as out of the smoke as you can and lift your other hand to shield your eyes as you try to find an exit.
The staircase has been engulfed by the fire, the flames devouring the only exit besides a window. But those are bolted shut to prevent any accidents.
Your chest tightens and your vision blurs, heart hammering much too hard in your chest. Your ears begin to ring and your knees buckle and you know you need your pills. Or at the very least, you need to sit down.
“The art room! It has the big windows and the heavy doors! Daddy says that heavy doors block out the smoke better!” You nod and follow him into the art room, collapsing on your knees as soon as the door is closed. You can’t breathe. The air just won’t find your lungs.
“C’mon miss (Y/l/n)! The window! We need to break it cause then they can hear us.” He grabs your hand and yanks with all his might, and his determination is enough to have you forcing yourself to your feet and banging on the window with as much strength as you can muster.
Tommy’s pounding against it with all his might, and you can’t help the tears that finally fall down your cheeks as your legs give out.
“Keep trying, Tommy,” you rasp, chest aching and heart pounding. He looks at you in complete fear, not sure what to do.
“Miss (Y/l/n)?” He asks softly, crouching down next to you as you cough softly. You take a few slow breaths, your heart stuttering in your chest.
“Keep going, Tommy. You’ve got this. You’re a fireman, just like your daddy and your Uncle Bucky.” Bucky. More tears fall down your cheeks at the thought of him.
Your eyes fall closed, head lolling to the side as the last of your energy leaves you.
You wish you could apologize to him. Tell him that you love him, that you appreciate everything he does for you.
The ringing in your ears grows until it’s deafening. Until the sound consumes you and pulls you gently into darkness.
~*~
The fire bell rings and the men are all on their feet, grabbing their gear and pulling it on as swiftly as they can.
“Rogers! I want you to sit this one out,” Chief Fury says, his arms crossed over his chest. The men all slow for just a moment before resuming their haste, Steve the only exception.
“What? Why?” He’s never been asked to sit out of a job before. Fury waits until the other men have piled into the firetruck.
“Now, it could very well be nothing but the call... it’s for the elementary school. I know your little one goes there and I can’t have you on the cal- Rogers!” Steve’s got his suit on and he’s in the truck in record time, jaw clenched hard and hands balled into tight fists.
The men are silent, having pieced it together and not wanting to argue with their captain.
Steve will take the heat from Fury after. All that matters is making sure his son is safe.
Almost as if realizing that there’s not one, but two people emotionally invested in this case, the eyes turn to Bucky. The brunet has his own eyes pinned between his boots, fingers of his flesh hand trembling slightly.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Sam whispers, his usual joking demeanour long gone.
The rest of the ride is silent, but as soon as they pull up to the school the men are jumping out and Steve is barking orders at them.
“Sam, you go make sure the building’s empty. Buck, you-” but the brunet is sprinting over to Wanda, a look of desperation on his face when he sees the tears on hers.
“Where is she?” He demands, his chest heaving and his entire world on the brink of collapsing.
“Sh-she went back inside to find Tommy. They never c-came back out.” He stumbles back a step, directly into Steve who waits impatiently for the news.
“She went in to find him,” Bucky whispers, the world around him going quiet as he turns and focuses solely on the burning building, searching for any possible sign of you.
Steve’s face falls, his heart crumbles and his whole world shatters.
“Tommy.”
The two race to the building only to be stopped by Sam and Clint.
“Entire entrance and staircase are up. There’s no way to get in there unless we break a window.”
Steve takes a few careful breaths then nods.
“Work on getting it as contained as possible. We’ve got at least two still inside.” Sam’s heart hurts for the blond as he races around the building like a chicken with his head cut off.
“Tommy!” He shouts, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice.
“Wait, Steve! Look!” Bucky points to a spot on the side of the building where a second thinner stream of smoke is leaving the building, this one in a different direction than the others.
A second opening in the building.
The two are running to investigate, and Steve’s heart bubbles.
“Tommy!” The little boy is crying in the broken window, head completely out to suck in as much fresh air as he can.
“Daddy!”
“Hold on, Tommy! We’re gonna get you!” He drops his head to his radio and calls for the truck to be pulled around.
“Daddy, Miss (Y/l/n) won’t wake up!” The little boy cries, his face dirty with tears and ash.
Bucky can’t breathe. He thinks he might be sick.
He’s definitely going to be sick.
He stumbles away from the building, away from the people and anyone who can see him and collapses on his knees, dry heaving into the grass while the others pull the truck around.
Steve's up the ladder and at the window, telling his son to move out of the way so he can break the window further.
“C’mon Buck. We’ve got a job to do. C’mon.” Sam helps him to his feet and Bucky nods, grinding his teeth together in a pathetic attempt at hiding his tears.
“Sam! Come give me a hand!” Steve’s voice says through the radio. Bucky follows to the truck, mind numb, body numb, and ears ringing.
“She’s in here, but her pulse is sporadic. We’ve gotta get her out now.” That lights a fire under the brunets ass and he’s nearly throwing himself to the truck right as Steve starts climbing down, Tommy clinging like a koala to his back with one arm, the other wrapped in a sloppy sling.
The ambulances are ready, lights flashing and stretchers at the ready.
Steve rushes his son over, his oxygen mask pressed against the six-year-old’s face.
“Set him down, c’mon.” He does as instructed and takes a half-step back to allow the paramedics room to inspect him.
Bucky’s eyes move from his nephew up to the window where Sam disappeared, his heart in his throat as he finally sees movement.
Sam emerges, his oxygen mask on your face and your limp body strewn over his shoulder.
A familiar head of red hair is pushing a stretcher right to the ambulance, ready to take your body as soon as Sam’s down.
He lays you down carefully and Bucky’s immediately at your side, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Buck, give us some space, okay?” Nat whispers, her voice fully professional, though he can see the pain in her eyes. He takes a deep breath but nods, stepping back and watching as you get rolled away.
A hand is on his shoulder and he glances over at the person.
“C’mon. We’ve got a fire to put out.”
#bucky x reader#fireman#Firefighter AU#fireman au#Fireman!Bucky#fireman!bucky x reader#fire fighter au#bucky x reader fireman au#bucky x reader fire fighter au#Bucky Barnes x reader#bucky/reader#bucky x reader angst#bucky x reader fluff#teacher!reader#bucky x teacher!reader
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Everything Undesired chapter 4
Chapter 3
Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.
“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”
“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.
“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”
And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.
“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?
“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”
“What happens next?”
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The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.
When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.
“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”
“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.
“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.
With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.
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Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.
“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”
The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?
“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”
Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.
“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”
Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.
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As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.
“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”
“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.
“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.
It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.
Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.
“What do we do?” Beel asked.
“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”
Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.
Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.
Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”
The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.
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“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.
“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he’s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”
“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”
“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.
“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”
At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.
“Babe, you don’t-”
“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.
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Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.
It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.
The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.
Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,
“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”
Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”
“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.
“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.
Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”
“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”
“Why?”
“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."
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Masterlist 2
#dead dove do not eat#tw: torture but not described#tw: victim blaming#lucifer and co commit murder#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me beelzebub#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#mammon angst#obey me oc#arella
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do any of the mercs play board games?
Mercopoly (Board Game
Headcanons)
Scout:
You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?
Hell no!
He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.
He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.
However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.
It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.
However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.
Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:
“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”
As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.
By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.
Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.
“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”
“...Fudge Monster.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah...”
Spy:
If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.
He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.
“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”
But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.
He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.
He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.
He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.
Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.
He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”
But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.
Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.
Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.
Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.
“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”
After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.
“Is this about your takeout?”
Spy scoffed.
“Do you really think - !”
“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”
Spy squinted.
“Egg rolls?”
“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”
“Your treat?”
“Yep.”
“How do I know you won’t poison me?”
“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”
“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”
“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”
Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.
“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”
Demo:
Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.
On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.
Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.
They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.
However, it all ends up fruitless.
Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”
Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.
Medic:
He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…
He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.
“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”
The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.
However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.
Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.
In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.
They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.
One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.
“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”
Engineer:
Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.
Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.
He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.
“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”
Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.
However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.
Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.
He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.
During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.
His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.
Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.
Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.
“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”
Spy only nodded. He was thinking.
The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.
Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.
“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”
Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!
After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.
“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”
Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.
Pyro:
Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.
Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.
Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.
He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.
They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.
As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”
Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.
The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.
It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.
Sniper:
Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.
He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.
On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).
His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).
You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.
Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.
Heavy:
He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.
It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.
He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.
Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.
Soldier:
The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.
He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.
Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.
#tf2#tf2 fandom#tf2 headcanon#tf2 headcanons#tf2 sniper#tf2 demo#tf2 scout#tf2 medic#tf2 spy#tf2 pyro#tf2 engineer#tf2 miss pauling#tf2 solly#tf2 heavy#humor#funny post#just for laughs#funny content#funny#dank humor#send asks#ask blog
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Two Homes (part 3/7) - Nikolai Lantsov
Request: nope
Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Summary: you’ve successfully escaped the ball room, but you run into someone you had been trying to avoid when you’re in the gardens
Warnings: lil angst, mentions of gunshots and blood
Word count: 2K
A/N: hehe he is here !! finally lol enjoy reading!
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You can faintly hear the music in the ball room. But the closer you get to the gardens, the more you have to concentrate to be able to hear the music. You can’t help but to smile to yourself. You made it out of the ball room.
All you had to do was wait until the ball was over and you would be on your way back to Ketterdam. Your father would probably be furious at you. But it was about time he learned he couldn’t continue to control your life.
As you’re walking through the gardens, the many different flowers take your breath away. You didn’t have a ball room like the one you just left in Ketterdam. You also certainly didn’t have a garden like this.
You walk the paths, amazed by the plants around you. You had never seen something like this before. If King Nikolai would have invited you to this garden instead of a ball, you might have seriously considered accepting his invitation.
Time passes as you admire the extraordinary flowers surrounding you. The palace has long since vanished from your eyesight, and the sun is almost gone. You can see some stars in the sky already.
Even though you didn’t want to come here, even though you spent the entire journey getting here wishing for Ketterdam, you couldn’t deny you’d be upset if you had missed out on the beautiful gardens.
You wonder if the ball has already ended, and want to make your way back to the palace, when you see a silhouette in the distance. Did someone else escape the ball to go to the gardens? Or worse; did someone follow you when you leapt from the balcony?
Though you’re in the gardens near a palace and not in the streets of Ketterdam, you’re still on edge by a stranger’s presence. You stop walking and listen closely to their movements, ready to strike should they attack you.
You watch from a distance as they walk closer. Hands behind their back, slowly walking through the garden. You notice the way their shoulders slump a little. Tired of the dancing maybe? Or trying to deceive you?
When they walk closer, and the last bit of sunshine falls on their face, you see blonde hair and a pair of hazel eyes.
A look of surprise finds its way onto his face when he spots you.
‘Well, hello.’ he says, sounding genuinely surprised to see another person in the gardens. ‘I believe we haven’t met?’
You shake your head. ‘No, we haven’t.’ you say.
He looks up and down your dress, sending goosebumps along your bare arms. You couldn’t deny he was indeed as handsome as described in the stories.
‘I’d say you fled the ball.’ he says. ‘I’m Nikolai, I don’t think you were introduced before the ball started.’
You notice how he introduces himself as Nikolai, and not as the king.
‘I didn’t flee.’ you say. ‘And no, I wasn’t introduced.’
‘Oh, that wasn’t a question.’ says Nikolai. ‘Merely a statement. I’d remember a dress and a face like that.’
Your lips slightly part in surprise. ‘Do you flirt with every woman you meet tonight?’ you ask.
‘Do you flee from every ball you attend?’ he says without missing a beat, making you chuckle.
‘This is the first ball I’ve ever been to.’ you admit.
‘Apparently it’s not a very good one, given that you left before it even started.’ he says.
‘It’s not about wether or not it’s a good ball.’ you say. ‘I just didn’t want to be in Ravka.’
‘But you are here.’ he points out.
‘Because my father basically dragged me here.’ you say, crossing your arms.
‘Your father, is he a Kerch merchant? There was one who didn’t introduce his daughter because she wasn’t there. So, that would mean you’re Y/F/N /Y/L/N, right?’ says Nikolai.
‘You’re good.’ you say.
‘I’m good at a number of things.’ he says with a wink.
‘Clearly.’ you say.
Nikolai smiles and holds out his arm to you. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he says.
You look at him extending his arm to you, smile on his lips and a twinkling in his eyes. You were dying to know why he had left the ball as well, and you actually didn’t mind the company. It made you curious and eager to find out if the stories you had heard about him are true.
So you nod with a smile, and lay a hand on his arm.
‘I’ll take you to my favorite spot in the gardens.’ he says, steering the two of you onto one of the paths.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ you say.
‘Of course.’ says Nikolai.
‘Why did you leave the ball?’ you say.
Nikolai looks at you and smiles. ‘Because even though I’m an excellent dancer, I also need breaks.’ he says. ‘I needed some fresh air.’
‘Are you really good at dancing or are you trying to impress me?’ you say.
‘Take your pick.’ he says.
For someone who didn’t want to be here and who had no intention of meeting the king, you found yourself starting to like him. He’s easy to talk to, and seems genuinely interested in you. And he’s not offended to find you in the gardens instead of the ball room.
‘Was it your idea to throw this ball to pick a bride?’ you say as you walk past a plant with particularly large orange flowers.
Nikolai sighs softly. ‘No.’ he says. ‘It was a decision made by Zoya and Genya, two of my triumvirate.’
‘Because they wanted you to marry?’ you say.
‘Because they wanted me to form an alliance and because I couldn’t establish one through politics, they thought I should try getting one through marriage.’ he says.
You look at him, trying to read his face. ‘But you don’t want that.’ you say.
Nikolai looks at you and raises an eyebrow. ‘I personally don’t want to marry someone I don’t know for the sake of an alliance. But it’s what’s best for Ravka. And I like to put Ravka’s needs first.’ he says.
‘Spoken like a true king.’ you say.
‘Well, I try to be a good one.’ he says as the two of you sit down on a bench.
‘From the stories I heard, you are.’ you say.
‘Really?’ says Nikolai. ‘Fancy telling me one of them?’
You laugh and shake your head. ‘I’m sure you’ve already heard them.’ you say.
‘What would it take for you to tell me one of those stories?’ says Nikolai.
You shrug. ‘A ticket to Ketterdam?’ you say.
He frowns. ‘You really want to go back that badly?’ he says.
‘No offence, but yes. I’ve been wanting to go back ever since the ship sailed away. Don’t take it personal, but I never had any intention of going to Os Alta in the first place.’ you say.
‘I understand.’ he says.
You look at him, confused. ‘You do?’
‘What, you think people haven’t made decisions for me my entire life?’ he says. ‘I know what it’s like not being able to make your own choices. I do appreciate you actually coming, though. You’re the first person I've talked to tonight who doesn’t throw themselves at me before I can even say hello.’
You laugh at his words. ‘Sorry for not throwing myself at you. Though I’m sure you’re used to it by now.’ you say.
Nikolai laughs as well. ‘Don’t apologise, it’s refreshing.’ he says.
The two of you are silent as you look at the plants that surround you. It’s rather peaceful, being away from the buzzing ball room and just sitting on a bench to have a conversation.
‘Why is this your favourite part or the gardens?’ you ask him after a while.
In response, Nikolai points to a bush of bright yellow flowers. ‘Those are my favourites.’ he says. ‘Native to Novyi Zem, but Grisha can make sure they can grow here as well. They bloom for very short periods of time, mostly it’s just one week during summer. That’s why the Zemeni call them Summer’s Week. They’ve always been my favourite flowers. I always visit this spot during each summer, to see them bloom.’ he explains.
‘They’re beautiful.’ you say. ‘Such a shame we don’t have gardens like this in Ketterdam. I would have loved to spend more time here.’
‘I’d invite you to stay, but that would mean I'd have to propose and you made it very clear you want to go back to Ketterdam.’ says Nikolai.
He gets up and walks over to the bush with the yellow flowers. You watch as he carefully picks one and walks back to you. He smiles as he hands it to you.
‘You can have one.’ he says. ‘If it still looks good when you get to Ketterdam, you can dry it, keep it between the pages of a book or something.’ he says.
You smile as you take the flower from him. ‘Thank you.’ you say.
Nikolai looks back in the direction of the palace, though you can’t see it from here.
‘I should go back.’ he says. ‘They’re probably wondering where I am, and I’d rather not have Zoya organise a search party.’
‘She’d do that?’ you say.
‘You have no idea what she’s capable of.’ says Nikolai, offering you his arm once more. You accept it and rise to your feet.
As you start to walk back to the palace, Nikolai looks at you and smiles when he catches your eye.
‘This has been nice.’ he says.
‘The gardens?’ you say.
‘I can visit the gardens any time I like. No, talking with you. You allow me to be Nikolai. Everyone in that ball room only thinks of me as a king. They only think of themselves as future queens.’ he says.
‘But they are potential queens.’ you say. Nikolai looks at you and you remember his words. ‘Right.’ you say. ‘For Ravka.’
You see the palace appear in the distance, and by the looks of it the ball is still in full swing. You sigh softly, not looking forward to reuniting with your father and having him yell at you.
‘Well, here we are.’ says Nikolai, stopping in front of the palace. He motions to your left. ‘The doors are that way.’ he says. ‘And even though there are no gardens over there, we do have a lake which is also very nice.’ he says while motioning to your right.
You let go of his arm and frown. ‘You don’t want me to return to the ball?’ you say.
Nikolai merely shrugs. ‘Why would I? You don’t want to go there, and I’m not your king so technically, you don’t have to do anything I say.’ he says.
‘You really are an extraordinary king.’ you say, making him smile. ‘I see why your people love you so much.’
‘Hearing anyone say that means a lot to me.’ says Nikolai. He moves to stand in front of you. ‘Are you sure I can’t convince you to come and have one dance with me?’ he says.
You smile. ‘I think I’ll check out the lake.’ you say.
‘Alright then.’ says Nikolai, walking away toward the doors. ‘But watch out for the sea monster, though.’ he adds.
Your eyes widen. ‘You have a sea monster in your lake?’ you say.
But you never found out the answer. Before Nikolai can say anything, you hear a sound you know all tho well. How could you not recognise it after living in Ketterdam for years?
Gunshots. Two of them.
You watch as Nikolai falls to the floor, blood soaking his shoulder and stomach.
A/N:
If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules
Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading!
Much love,
Marit
#he is here !!!#nikolai lantsov#shadow and bone#grishaverse#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov fanfiction#nikolai lantsov fanfic#nikolai lantsov fanfics#nikolai lantsov fic#nikolai lantsov fics#shadow and bone fanfiction#shadow and bone fanfic#shadow and bone fanfics#shadow and bone fic#shadow and bone fics#two homes series
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STEPH I ACCIDENTLY REWATCHED TSOT AND NOW I'M FUCKING SOBBING. I JUST HAVEN'T WATCHED THE ACTUAL SHOW IN FOREVER AND FORGOT HOW SAD SHERLOCK LOOKS IN THIS EPISODE. GOD. so yeah i just wanted some fics where john & sherlock dance together, whether it be at a/their wedding, "for a case", some kind of ball, or my favorite- sherlock teaching john to dance. it's maybe one of my favorite situations/tropes in media. (also welcome back!! and i love you <3)
Hi Lovely!!!
AHHHH I’ve been putting a “dancing” list together before I even had a system in place to do my lists, so I’m going to use your ask as an excuse to finally post it because I can’t find the original ask, LOL LOL!!!
And to pad out the list, I’m adding any that I’ve tagged from my MFL List, so I hope you enjoy that, LOL.
As usual, add your own, friends!! Hope you enjoy!!!
DANCING
You Lead, I Lead, You Follow, I Follow by BrighteyedJill (M, 862 w., 1 Ch. || Fever, H/C, John Whump) – John wakes up after a chase gone wrong to find Sherlock watching over him, but he’s a little hazy on the details.
Velvet by headlessjess (G, 1,155 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Angst, Jealous Sherlock, Loneliness, Sad Fic) – It's the day, the wedding day - John and Mary, getting married. And then there's Sherlock, in pain and in love, without knowing how to deal with it.
Your love it feels so good by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 2,843 w., 1 Ch. || Gay Club / Gay Bar, Lingerie, Stripping, Anal) – Sherlock is last at a quiz night and is forced by Anderson to perform in a gay stripclub. John must be with him, because he will have to record the performance. Sherlock takes the task very seriously. Part 20 of The English job
Behind Closed Curtains by twisting_vine_x (G, 2,939 w., 1 Ch. || Dancing, Angst, Pre-Slash) – Set loosely during season two, when Sherlock and John are still, ahem, dancing around each other. Sherlock teaches John how to dance.
Unimpressed by 221b_hound (M, 3,106 w., 1 Ch. || New Year’s Eve, Dancing, Jealousy) – Sherlock has no intention of attending the Met's New Year's Eve party. The start of a new year is all but meaningless to him. But he ends up there anyway, having odd conversations, and John does not find Sherlock's jealousy the slightest bit cute. And then there is dancing. Part 10 of Unkissed
Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w., 1 Ch. || Car Accident, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Pre-Slash) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can't forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he'll prove them all wrong by sticking with him...every step of the way.
No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock's attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills
Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series
But Tonight You Belong to Me by esplanade (T, 4,296 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff & Angst, Pining, Stag Night, Sad Ending) – “You. It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right.”
The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna
Sway by CrackedMetal (K+, 4,602 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Drama, Dancing, Mary is Nice, Canon Divergence, Song Fic) – Sherlock doesn't leave the reception and Mary wants the best friends to have a moment to talk… So she suggests a dance. Johnlock with a side of John/Mary.
Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times
a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of
Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Angst, Fluff, Cancer) – "The night I died, you wished I could wait for you."
What I Hide By My Language, My Body Utters by PixChuu22 (M, 9,047 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Friends to Lovers) - Based on a prompt from Tumblr user thetwogaydetectives - “fake relationship that ends up being so real, they finally realize they are in love.”
Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining Sherlock, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.
the first day of forever by darcylindbergh (E, 11,850 w., 8 Ch. || Est. Relationship, Domestics, Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional H/C) – “I’m going to marry you,” John murmurs with against Sherlock’s smile, and they both giggle in the joy of it. “We’re getting married.” “Yes,” Sherlock says, just to hear himself say it out loud. “We are.” A June wedding. Part 4 of things fairy tales are made of
All the Girls Love a Soldier by Book7BrokeMyBrain (E, 12,951 w., 1 Ch. || Military Kink, Frottage, Domesticity, Post S3, Pining Sherlock, Kilt John, Wedding, Dancing) – John is invited to a stag party and a wedding. The related accoutrement suit Sherlock to a T.
Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.
I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.
Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...
Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.
a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of
we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.
Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasim Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.
The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...
Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?
White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.
Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.
Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.
Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.
MARKED FOR LATER
He really can’t breathe. by Luna_sharp618 (NR, 696 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Dancing, Sherlock Teaching John to Dance, TSo3 Fic) – In which Sherlock teaches John how to dip his dance partner for the wedding and has some pining thoughts.
The Gay Bar Scene that never was by MadSophHatter (T, 1,372 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Gay Bar Scene, Confused Sherlock, Jealous John, Humour) – The gay bar scene from The Sign of Three as I envisioned it. Featuring a confused Sherlock, halfnaked men, sexy dancing and John who is absolutely not jealous.
Tango by standbygo (M, 1,424 w., 1 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Dancing) – “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Shut up and dance – a man’s alibi depends on it.”
Operation Synchronous by Daziechane (NR, 1,691 w., 1 Ch. || Dancer Sherlock, Lip Synch Battle, Abuse Of Umbrellas, Bets) – Sherlock never welches on a bet. That doesn't mean he'll give in easily, however.
on his mouth like liquor by chrysanthemumsies (T, 1,780 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Stag Night, Gay Bar, Romance, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff) – The gay bar scene from Stag night that the creators didn't want to show! Pure crack with a bit of angst and a whole lotta fluff (if you squint). Sherlock and John on the dance floor - what's not to love?
Take me to Baker Street by MorganeUK (G, 2,087 w., 1 Ch. || Adult Ballet AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Doctor John, Song Fic, Pre-Slash) – I always loved Sergei Polunin interpretation of Take me to the church so I decided to write a version where Sherlock is a ballet dancer in serious need of a doctor…
May I Have This Dance? by ScaryFairy13 (G, 2,297 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Dancing, Fluff, First Kiss, Wedding) – John drags Sherlock to Greg's and Molly's wedding. Dancing ensues as well as the discovery of certain sentimental feelings.
Under the Lights by CarmillaCarmine (E, 2,872 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fix It, Stag Night, Gay Club, First Time, Dancing) – Following Sherlock’s map marked with all the streets where they had found a corpse, John and Sherlock stumbled into a gay club. Part 1 of TSoT Fix-It
Dirty by standbygo (E, 5,093 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, PWP, Dirty Dancing, Romance, Smut and Fluff) – “Yeah, I actually learned how to dance like that, like in the film. I was quite the hit at parties while the craze lasted. Some of Harry’s friends called me Johnny Castle, after the character. Or Swayze.” “Swayze? What kind of word is that?” John did not reply, but gazed at Sherlock, his lips pressed together but still smiling. After a moment, he stood and held out his hand to Sherlock. “Dance with me,” John said.
The Posh Purple Pirate (Enter My Life and Make Me Drown) by Loveismyrevolution (E, 7,408 w., 1 Ch. || Exotic Dancer AU || Alternate First Meeting, Strangers to Lovers, For a Case, Lap Dancing, Hand Job, First Kiss, Pirate Sherlock, Drama Queen Sherlock, Dancer Sherlock) – When Mike Stamford invited him to a fun night out, John Watson never expected it would become such a wild ride - captivated by an enigmatic pirate his life suddenly gains speed in an unexpected direction. Part 1 of PirateDragQueenVerse
Life's Uneven Kilter by theslovenlyfool (T, 14,877 w., 4 Ch. || Canon Divergence S3, BAMF John, Secretly Married, Camp Gay Sherlock, Dancing, John is a Good Actor, Fake Relationship, Mycroft Plays a Role) – "According to Sherlock, the game began on September 21, 2005 at precisely 10:37:04 am. John complained that, with that logic, the game had actually begun on January 7, 2000, at around 1:30 am. But for Sherlock, games are only fun when others are willing to play. What is a game without an adversary, after all? And what is a proper dash across London without a partner? Now, Sherlock thought as he assessed the doctor with the unforgivable cane, the game is on."
Thirteen Dances (Or, The Doctor Dances) by Knackorcraft (E, 17,544 w., 13 Ch. || Dirty Dancing, Tango, Ballet, Frottage) – John is a great dancer: we're talking all types. Not only is he able to pop and lock it, he's got some great ballet technique. He was best at lifting / holding girls.
The One Where Sherlock Doesn’t Ruin John’s Holiday by nutmeag83 (T, 18,898 w., 11 Ch. || Pre-TRF / S2 Timeline, Friends to Lovers, Cruise Ships, Vacation / Holidays, Fake Relationship, For Science, Bed Sharing, Cuddling/Snuggling, Mutual Pining, John POV, Minor Case Fic, Cooking, Dancing, Drunk Shenanigans) – John wins a cruise vacation for two and brings Sherlock along. But when it turns out to be a couples cruise, they have to pretend to be a couple themselves (for science). How many pretend kisses will it take before they can’t deny their feelings any longer?
Lockdown by johnwatso and Salambo06 (E, 23,376 w., 20 Ch. || Quarantine, COVID-19, Lockdown, Fluff, Parentlock, Reunion, Dancing, Soft Idiots, Sex Toys) – The world is in lockdown due to Covid-19. This is how Sherlock and John spend their time.
Dance With Me by Silvergirl (E, 24,813 w., 12 Ch. || Post TEH, Dancing, Met Charity Gala, Sally/Sherlock Friendship, No Mary, Fluff) – Sherlock rescues Sally Donovan, and in turn she tries to help him get John to stop faffing about and get on with Johnlock.
Mountebank by Odamaki (M, 26,514 w., 2 Ch. || Fake Relationship/Dating/Marriage, For A Case, Jealous John, Suits, House Party, Crack, Trapped, UST, Dancing, Idiots in Love, Confessions, Friends to Lovers) – “I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.” Part 29 of the The Sherlexicon
Time Of My Life by fiveainley_ohmy (E, 29,719 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Dancing Fusion || Bisexual John, Dancing, Gay/Demi Sherlock) – John Watson takes his alcoholic sister to a summer camp in attempt to rehabilitate her. He didn't expect to fall in love with the dance instructor.
Brooklyn Heat, Summer Jazz by Zigster (E, 41,820 w., 10 Ch. || New York Ballet AU || Jazz Pianist John, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Modern Setting, Brooding Sherlock , Confused John, Non-Linear Storytelling, Sexual Tension, Angst, Alcohol / Pot / Club Drug Use, First Time, Not-Good Mycroft, Happy Ending) – "There was, however, one thing that made it easier to stay on his piano bench every day. One thing that kept John Watson showing up to class on time, every morning at ten with a large thermos of honeyed tea and a conviction to see a job well done. His name was Sherlock Holmes and he was the most confounding and extraordinary thing John had ever come across - the most exotic of birds and the most unattainable of men."
Blond Barista Seeks Dashing Ballet Dancer: Inquire Within by prettysailorsoldier (E, 43,847 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock Coffee Shop AU || Rugby/Barista John, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Fluff) – Between classes, his job at a local cafe, and being captain of the rugby team, John Watson's life is plenty stressful enough without the addition of a mysterious ballet dancer he can see through the windows of the dance studio across the street, but, somehow, he can't bring himself to mind.
My Pictures of You by 72reasons (E, 50,527 w., 19 Ch. || Fashion AU || Model Sherlock / Photographer John, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Past Viclock, Past Warstan, Cocaine / Drug Use, Mary is Not Nice, Angst, Pining, Case Fic, Kidnapping, Human Trafficking, Past Jolto, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Oral / Anal, Fingering, Dancing, Non-Con Drug Use, Rimming) – John Watson, a photographer, gets an assignment to shoot gorgeous, young fashion model, Sherlock Holmes. He feels an instant connection, but Sherlock uses drugs and has an old friend who's just landed himself in a lot of trouble. When Sherlock comes to John for help, he reluctantly agrees. Angst, past loves, and insecurities threaten to end their budding romance, but ultimately love and trust wins out.
Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?
A Moment's Surrender by anchors (M, 64,272 w., 10 Ch. || Dancer AU || Ballet Sherlock, Swing Dancer John, Angsty Fluff, Romance, Swing Dancing) – Sherlock tours worldwide with the English National Ballet. John dances the Lindy Hop competitively all across the globe. That they would meet, then, by the slimmest of chances in one lonely city, is pure coincidence. The whole 'dancing together' bit is a little more planned.
This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.
A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance. Based off this prompt.
Rewind by All_I_need (E, 87,593 w. || Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pining, Angst, Sharing a Bed, Dancing Lessons, Oblivious John) – About a month before John's wedding, he and Sherlock embark on one last case together: a murder at a remote hotel in the middle of nowhere. A lot can happen in a week. And a lot doesn't. But what if ...?
Rosethorne by suitesamba (M, 98,888 w., 28 Ch. || Secret Garden AU || Injured Sherlock / John, Recovery, First Times, Minor Character Death, Disability, Past Domestic Abuse [Mary/OMC]) – John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain’s best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden,” the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn’t.
October to Hogmanay by snorklepie (E, 127,318 w., 25 Ch. || Post HLV Fix-It, Awkward First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock is a Mess, Shameless Smut, Sherlock’s Past, Scotland, Poison, Holmes Family, Kilts, Dancing, Angst) – John stared at Sherlock’s profile against the cab window and exhaled slowly. After a long moment, he reached out and touched Sherlock’s long fingers where they were fiddling with the button on his coat. The tall man didn’t look around again, but his fingers slowly unfurled before curling deliberately around John’s hand. Part 2 of Scotland
Shatter Me by Loveismyrevolution (E, 162,856+ w., 20/24 Ch. || WiP || Sherlock Dances, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Introspection, Mutual Pining, UST, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Implied Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions) – This is a story about two men trying to find their way back into the comfort of their companionship. No easy task in the aftermath of the events of Reichenbach, a wedding and a shot through the heart. They are facing a very rocky road ahead with a lot of introspection, misunderstandings, angst and pining. They each try to cope in their own particular way. Eventually, they'll find a way to communicate and learn about the true nature of their feelings.
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Santa Isn’t Real.....Right?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Summary: Someone has told your daughter that Santa isn’t real. Your husband is not too pleased.
Warnings: Mostly fluff. A couple of swear words. Tiiiiiiiniest bit of implied smut.
Word count: 2.4k
Author’s notes: Thank you all so much to the people who have liked or reblogged the first story that was posted (I have now figured out how to make a cut!). It really means a lot!
This drabble, one-shot - whatever you’d like to call it was so much fun to write; just in time for Christmas! I hope you all like it as well. Also, it is a LONG one.
Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy Holidays!
(* “Honey, go to bed.”)
“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” A voice boomed through the halls, heavy footsteps quickly stomping through the quiet compound.
“Shit. Hide.” Clint Barton's eyes widened as he looked around at the people spread out in the living room. The heavy footsteps came quicker causing everyone in the room to run back to their rooms fear of what was going to happen.
----
“Daddy!” A tiny teary voice cried out from the hallway.
Bucky Barnes groggily opened his eyes, his ears immediately picking up on the soft crying. “Whsm?” He grumbled before sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. It was only 2 A.M. and he had just gotten to sleep an hour and a half ago.
“Buck?” He felt you stir, your hand reaching out to pull his body back to yours.
“Daddy.” The soft crying was closer, coming from the doorway of yours and his bedroom.
“Belley?” you mumbled sitting up next to Bucky. A yawn escaped both your lips as your sniffling four-year-old daughter crawled up the bed. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Daddy.” Isabelle looked at her father with tear filled blue eyes, her bottom lip quivering as Bucky wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” He cooed sweetly in her ear his vibranium hand making slow comforting circles on her back.
You watched as Bucky whispered sweet words in your daughter’s ear in an attempt to calm her down from whatever had shaken her; your heart ready to burst with love at the sight.
“Belley, tell daddy what’s wrong.” He cradled her close, rocking her in a comforting sway.
“Santa isn’t real!” the little girl sobbed, her tiny hands wrapping around her father’s neck while she cried into his chest.
Bucky's jaw clenched as he looked at you with slight worry. James Barnes had always been beautiful to you; but right now, seeing his jaw clench and already knowing what was going through his mind, he was breathtaking. He was in protector mode – a way he had always been with you but became even more fierce when your daughter was born. The day he found out you were pregnant he swore no one would ever hurt his little girl. Ever. And if someone did, he would make them pay.
“Baby, what do you mean Santa isn’t real? Of course Santa is real.” You joined your other half in trying to soothe your daughter’s tears.
“No! Santa isn’t real!” she spat back at you before clinging back onto her father.
Your mind went back to the day you both found out you were expecting. Bucky knew, without a doubt, the baby would be a girl; his princess, a complete daddy’s girl, the spitting image of the dark-haired, blue-eyed man that had stolen your heart.
And she was.
From the moment Isabelle Marie Barnes made her entrance in this world she had her father wrapped around her little fingers. Everything Bucky did was for you and your little miracle. All the late nights staying up to finish a report, the even later nights spent training, his reluctance to do missions that would take him away from home for too long – it all was for you and your baby.
Bucky refused to be a dad that wouldn’t be there for his child, and to yours and Bucky's surprise, the rest of the team had agreed as well. Steve and Tony especially.
You blinked away the tears that were forming in your eyes, shaking off the sudden emotions to hormonal changes due to your being six-and-a-half-months pregnant with your second child.
“Baby, you need to tell me what happened.” Bucky’s jaw twitched again. You saw the anger forming in his eyes and placed a loving hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly. He looked at you, his resolve coming undone as he met your gaze. “Honey, Santa is very real. How else do you think you get presents on Christmas Eve?” he spoke quietly, deep blue eyes looking into even deeper bluer eyes.
Isabelle stayed quiet yet looked between you and her dad. “Sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?” you moved her long tangled dark hair away from her face. She looked so much like her father your heart ached.
Isabelle shook her head pouting while doing so.
“It’s okay, baby. You can tell mommy and daddy what happened. We won’t get mad.” You smiled at her yet gave your husband a stern look. The super soldier rolled his eyes then kissed your little girl’s hair, his head resting on top of hers. “Right, daddy?”
Bucky shot you a look then sighed heavily. “Mommy and daddy won’t get mad, sweetheart. We promise.”
Feeling slightly better at your admission, Isabelle sat down on her father’s lap, her tiny fingers running along Bucky’s vibranium arm. “I was in my room when I heard a noise.”
“Honey, that was just daddy going to bed.” Bucky let out a loud laugh, the tension instantly gone from his face.
“Daddy, let me finish.” She looked back at him with a stern look. The same look you always gave him whenever he was teetering the thin line between being stupid and wanting to sleep on the couch.
“Sorry.” You both hid a smile; you still in awe at how formal your child was at the age of four. Maybe it was the enhanced serum in her veins, or maybe it was just your thickheaded stubbornness, but your daughter was an absolute force to reckon with. So much so that she even gave Black Widow a run for her money.
“I heard a noise and went out to see what it was.” She sniffed, her head resting against Bucky’s chest.
“Honey, you know you should have been in bed.” You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Mommy. You promised.” Her dark blue eyes landed on you.
“Yeah, mommy.” Bucky smirked giving you a playful look. You rolled your eyes yet couldn’t help but smile as well.
“I went out in the living room and saw someone taking presents from the tree! I asked if he was Santa and the man said that Santa wasn’t real.” Isabelle’s bottom lip quivered causing your heart to ache.
Bucky’s face had gone hard. The twitch in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.
“Honey, Santa is most definitely real. Right, daddy?” you urged your husband to smile, pleading with him not to say anything.
“Yeah, baby. Santa’s real.” He spoke lowly, his eyes focusing on the open door.
“How do you know, daddy?” Isabelle looked up hope filling her pretty eyes.
“Oh, I never told you before?” he snapped out of his trance and looked down at his daughter.
“No! Tell me what! Daddy!” she bounced in his lap; her previous worries quickly turned into curiosity.
“I’m going to tell you but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” He whispered.
“Not even mommy?” her eyes widened.
“Mommy already knows.” He gave you a smile as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“What I’m about to tell you is very important. You have to promise me you won’t tell a single word to anyone.”
“Not Uncle Steve?”
“Not Uncle Steve.”
“Not even Aunt Tasha?!”
“Not even Aunt Natasha.”
Isabelle looked up to face her father, the look of awe and wonder etched on her brow made Bucky almost break. He loved nothing more in his life than you, your daughter, and the little one growing inside of you; his heart clenched at the thought of any of you ever being unhappy.
“Okay, daddy.” Isabelle nodded her head seriously.
Your husband kissed you on the top of your head with a smile before turning back to your daughter. “I know Santa is real because I’ve seen him myself.” He whispered causing Isabelle to gasp out loud.
“You…..ve seen Santa.” She whispered, her little mind spinning with the newly found news.
“Sure have. One Christmas Eve I was coming home late from work, even later than it is right now, and when I opened the door, there was a big man in a red suit with a long white beard. He had the biggest sack of presents I have ever seen. I tried to sneak away but he caught me.” Bucky’s eyes widened to match his daughter’s, her little body clinging to his every word.
“What happened next?”
“He looked at me and said, ‘James Barnes, I know what you seek in life, what you have always sought out. By midday today you will have found what you are looking for.’ And then with a smile and a wink, he flew up the chimney.”
“Wowwwwww!” Isabelle gaped in disbelief. Her daddy! And Santa Claus! Clearly Santa was real because daddy knew everything and she also knew that daddy would never lie to her. Of course Santa was real! There was just one thing still bothering her. “Dad, what did Santa mean when he said all that weird stuff to you?”
“He meant that I would find mommy. He gave me your mommy. And then he gave me you. My best girls.”
You looked up to find him beaming at the both of you. Your heart burst with love for him and your little family. Your one true love and happiness.
“I think it’s time we all get back to bed. We don’t want to miss Santa!” You gasped suddenly. “I think I hear footprints on the roof!”
“Oh no, mommy!” your little one gasped and flew off the bed racing down the hall to her bedroom.
“I love you, Barnes. Thank you for always taking such good care of us.” You whispered your eyes meeting your husband’s.
“I love you, doll. More than you both will ever know.” He smiled and kissed you gently. “Let’s go make sure she’s actually in bed.” He laughed while wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you close as you walked to your daughter’s room.
----
“Night, munchkin. Olive you.” Bucky kissed his daughter’s forehead then pulled away with a smile.
“Olive you, daddy.” Isabelle giggled while hugging her favorite stuffed animal to her.
“Tuck the little one in and I’ll meet you back in bed. I have something to finish first but I’ll meet you straight back there.”
“Babe, you aren’t going to do something stupid.” You gave him a look. That same look your four-year-old gave him just a little while ago. When your husband refused to meet your eye, you tried again. “James.” His cool blue eyes stared back into yours, a hint of threat still clouding his vision as he quietly cursed himself for inability to hide his emotions from you. “Baby, please.”
Bucky sighed then nodded. He hated to love when you used his first name to get him to calm down. No one else had that power over him, and there was absolutely NO ONE else allowed to call him by his first name other than you. And maybe Santa, if Isabelle was asking.
“Thank you.” You mouthed before turning to your little one. “Night, baby.” You kissed your daughter’s head with a tired smile. It was just past 3 A.M. and you wanted nothing more than to slip back into your warm bed, your arms around your husband as the both of you drifted off to sleep. “I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep.”
“I love you. Night, mommy.” She yawned sleepily. You quietly shut the door and went to turn back to your bedroom. You were halfway down the hall when you knew something wasn’t right. And then you heard the yelling. You swore under your breath and ran to the main living room, hoping you would be able to stop your husband before it was too late.
----
“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” Bucky Barnes’s deep voice boomed through the quiet compound, his footsteps heavy and quick.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Clint swore as he tripped over himself as he tried to reach his room before he was caught.
“If I find out –“ Bucky stopped himself mid-sentence his eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. “Barton, if it was you - so help me God! You had better run for your life!”
“Bucky! *Дорогая, иди спать. [ Dorogaya, idti spat’].”
Bucky turned to face the voice that had just spoken out. A surprised look overtook him for a moment before he started to laugh. “Since when do you know Russian?” he smiled and walked over to you, his previous mission already forgotten as he slipped his arms around your waist.
“Since I married a really sexy Russian Sergeant. Had to know all those dirty words he was moaning in bed.”
“I’m from New York.” He moaned against your lips, pulling your body closer his striking blue eyes staring into your own.
“Still moan dirty Russian things in bed.” You smile and bring your lips to his. Bucky held you there loving the feeling of how close you two are. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”
“I love you, Mrs. Barnes.” He smiled while hugging you close. “Let’s get to bed. Don’t want to be awake for when Santa comes.”
“I’ll be right there.” You kissed your husband and patted his butt with a smile as he walked off. You went around turning out the lights stopping at the beautifully lit tree when you heard a door creak.
“He’s gone, Barton. You can come out now.” You called out into the darkness with a laugh. “You owe me.”
“Oh, I’m not Clint, Mrs. Barnes,” a voice replied with a chuckle in their voice. “But I am sure he will still say thank you anyway.” The voice chuckled again; this time louder, deeper causing your eyes to widen.
You hurried down the hall, trying your best to keep quiet until you reached your room.
“Babe, what are you doing?” Bucky sleepily looked at you as you ran into the room and dashed under the covers.
“I think Santa is in our living room.” You whispered into the dark. You felt your husband chuckle, his body warm and inviting as he pulled you in closer.
“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day and our little one will have us up in only a few hours.” He yawned cuddling into your body.
‘Maybe I am going crazy.’ You shook your head with a smile as your eyes slowly began to close. Just before you drifted off you whispered a goodnight to Santa almost feeling silly to be saying the words out loud.
Just then you heard a woosh and with a small chuckle a voice said, “To all a good night!”
#Bucky Barnes x Reader#Bucky Barnes drabble#Bucky Barnes one shot#Christmas Eve Eve#WinterFluffs#Bucky Barnes#Daddy Bucky#Kids are so cute#Especially at Christmas#Santa Isn't Real#Right?#James Buchanan Barnes#Christmas prompt
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