#checkin the water with their hand maybe giving it a little splash. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

megadara999 · 4 years

Text

Submarine - Chapter 3: Like a Limpet

Remember that all my writing is on AO3. <--- Click on that link to be taken to Submarine on AO3. I also love getting comments no matter how small. <3 ____________________

The night passed with some minor sulking from Walani but was otherwise uneventful. When the sun rose Walani and WX-78 headed towards the shore. The fleshling's must have a considerable boat if they’d been here for a long time, one that wouldn't splash him. When the two of them reached the shore however WX-78 didn't see a boat… Walani took a colourful piece of wood with a chuck taken out of it out and placed it on the water's surface. Oh no. That was even worse than his raft. It required balance too, his gyroscopes were good but he did not want to risk falling into the ocean. She sat on the board and gestured for him to sit behind her. “NEGATIVE.”

“What's wrong?”

“THAT IS NOT A MODE OF TRANSPORTATION.” WX-78 was going to die if he got on that. They would fall and he would die and he knew they did not have any restorative items.

“Yes it is, it's my surfboard.”

“I REFUSE TO GET ON THAT THING.” Walani leant back, propping herself up with her hand, a smirk wormed its way onto her lips.

“Don't tell me the big bad robot is afraid of a little water~”

“I SAW NO MEAT EFFIGIES AND I DOUBT YOU HAVE LIFE GIVING AMULETS. THE CHANCE OF ME SHORT-CIRCUITING ON THAT THING IS 98.7%. IT IS FLIMSY AND UNSTABLE.”

“You're just a big chicken. Can't hurt anyone. Can't cope with a little water. You're a chicken WX~” WX-78’s insides heated a little, letting out a small amount of steam and he balled his fists. He was not a metaphorical chicken, he was brave and terrifying. Maybe he could drown her as well if he went under… “Get on the board, chicken.” WX-78 stepped onto the board with a single foot and adjusted his gyroscope. He put his other foot on and wobbled, after a bit of flailing he steadied himself. Robot: 1, Ocean: 0. Then the board moved. He fell to his knees and gripped the sides of the board, thank whoever made his hands watertight. WX-78 heard Walani laugh and shot a glare at her, but it didn't stop her smiling. “You've never been surfing before, have you?”

“AFFIRMATIVE. I HAVE NOT ENGAGED IN THIS ACTIVITY BEFORE.”

“We’re not in a hurry, I'll teach you.” That meant more time on this flimsy piece of garbage and more risk of falling in the water.

“NEGATIVE. BAD FLESHLING. TAKE ME TO THE DESIGNATED DESTINATION.” Walani stood and WX-78 gripped the death trap tighter. Why did he listen to Wilson? He would have to get revenge for letting the stupid fleshling plant this idea in his head.

“The winds are good, we should get to where we’re going faster if we ride some waves.” She lent forward again and the board moved, little rolls of water threatened to spill over into WX-78’s circuits. “You know you’ll make this easier and safer if you stand.” Their movement slowed and she offered her hand to him. WX-78 frowned and batted it away, standing on his own accord. The board rocked beneath him dangerously. He hated the ocean but refused to let it take his life, besides he wanted to show the fleshling he wasn't a coward.

“THERE. NOW TAKE ME TO MY DESTINATION MINION.”

“Alright rust bucket. Keep your feet apart and concentrate on balancing, I'll do all the steering.” She lent forward and the board lurched into locomotion as it hit a wave. WX-78 let out a yelp, flailing his arms to keep balance. His reflexes made him grab onto Walani’s waist. Stupid fleshling and its stupid fleshy body, making him seem weak.

“TELL ANYONE I TOUCHED YOU AND I WILL KILL YOU.” Walani just laughed. “KEEP LAUGHING AND I WILL KILL YOU TOO.” What a surprise, the fleshling didn't stop laughing.

“Come on WX, loosen up. If you're all tense you won't be able to balance properly.” Walani swerved the board side to side with a grin and WX-78 tightened his grip.

“DESIST STUPID FLESHLING! I WILL DIE A PAINFUL DEATH IF I FALL! WATER WILL KILL ME, GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK CRANIUM!” Walani straightened the board and slowed the pace a bit.

“I’m sorry, I didn't know. I though you were just hydrophobic or something, I didn't know it would hurt you… I’ll slowdown, you can still hold onto me if it makes you feel safer.”

“I DON’T NEED A FEELING OF SECURITY FROM YOU. THIS IS NOTHING MORE THAN PRESERVING MY OWN LIFE. IF I FALL I’M TAKING YOU WITH ME, AS IT WAS YOUR IDEA TO GET ON THIS STUPID SURFBOARD."

"I haven't fallen off in ages, you're pretty safe. Promise. The island I'm taking you to isn't far from here anyway." WX-78 loosened his grip and gained his balance.

“SPARE ME FROM YOUR PITY, I DON’T NEED IT.”

“I’m getting sick of your attitude. You need to loosen up metal man.” She punched him mockingly on the shoulder. WX-78 had seen the other fleshling's do this, it was good natured gesture. In some cases it had deeper feelings attached, usually to do with companionship and appreciation. The fleshling really considered it's self as his friend, that was somewhat amusing.

“DON’T TOUCH ME. IF I HAVE TO SAY THAT AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“DEATH.”

“I call your bluff. You're a big softy, you just got a hard shell. Like a limpet!” Walani tapped his chest. Real funny. WX-78 would wipe that stupid grin off her stupid face. He shoved her as much as the wobble of the board would allow, sending her to a watery grave. Water splashed into his leg and seeped into his systems, but it was worth it. Although, her head came to the surface. Of course the fleshling could swim. She rested her arms on the edge of the board. “Well I guessed you proved me wrong eh? There were consequences.” She was still smiling. It annoyed him. Why wouldn't she stop. WX-78 felt heat rise to his cheeks, his master plan of revenge failing. Paddling away was, decidedly, the best course of action.

“YOU ARE EXILED FROM THE SURFBOARD.”

“But that's my board, sorry buddy. You're gonna let me back on or else.” Or else what. Fleshlings didn't scare him, nothing scared him.

“DO YOUR WORST DUMB FLESHLING.” Walani ducked out of sight. Maybe something had dragged her under, dumb human. The fleshling deserved whatever happened to them, good riddance. The board suddenly started shaking and WX-78 shouted, falling to his knees and grabbing the edges of the board as tightly as he could. Walani’s face popped up at the front on the board, a smirk on her face.

“That was a warning rust bucket.” That cheeky, horrid little fleshling. The heated feeling rose again and he fumed. This fleshling managed to boil the oil inside him more than any other.

“YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME, YOU VILE FLESHLING.” Walani’s hands held the front of the board and she shook it again, WX-78 clung even tighter. “STOP. DESIST. HALT. ABORT. ABSTAIN.”

“I don't hear the magic word rust bucket~ And I'm pretty sure you owe me an apology as well.” Manipulative, little, stupid, annoying- the board shook again.

“STOP! NOW!”

“Keep trying.” He was going to fall in and die. Murdered by a fleshling, how embarrassing.

“P… PLEASE FLESHLING.” The word sounded vile coming from his mouth. How dare she make him beg.

“I have a name WX-78.” She halted the shaking and gave him expectant look.

“WALANI, STOP OR I SWEAR-” She gave it a sharp shake.

“Be nice.” WX-78 felt the temperature in his body rise. How dare she- no, it make him beg, manipulating him in this way. He might be impressed if he weren't so angry.

“WALANI. PLEASE STOP SHAKING THIS BOARD. I APOLOGISE FOR PUSHING YOU.” Steam was practically coming off him. Being manipulated, by a fleshling of all things. This fleshling was too smart for her-(no, its!)-its own good! (Not that WX-78 would admit that out loud...) Walani smiled and pulled herself into the board in a sitting position with ease.

“Was that so hard?”

“YES.” WX-78 refused to make eye contact. Being made to beg and apologise to a fleshling. He was smarter, tougher, stronger and overall superior. There was no reason for him to have to listen to her. Walani chuckled and stood again, taking them back on course. How undignified this situation was.

~~~~~

It didn't take much longer to arrive at the island. It was a fair island. There was food and grass, trees and materials WX-78 would need to survive. Good enough for a permanent base. It was away from the fleshlings too, bonus.

WX-78 spent a few days establishing his camp, making a science machine and a fire pit. Much to his displeasure Walani visited on the fourth day. She brought him food. Did she not think he could manage on his own? He refused and she shrugged, starting to eat it herself. She followed him while he collected some materials. WX-78 turned to her as dusk fell. "I BELIEVE ITS'S TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE. YOUR PRESENCE HAS BEEN... MIDDLING."

"Sick of me already WX?"

"YES."

"Fine, fine. I'll go. Can um... I suggest something?"

"MAKE IT QUICK."

"The wet season here is coming... I'm sorta worried about you, water hurting you and all that. I want to help you prepare, I know what you need to do to prevent getting soaked." As if he didn't know how to protect himself from water! That was his first directive when spring showed its rainy properties.

"I WILL BE FINE, I'VE LIVED THROUGH SPRING ON THE MAINLAND."

“I’m pretty sure you haven't gone through a hurricane and monsoon… Well maybe you have, I just don't want to lose a new survivor. You might be a bit of a drag but you don't deserve to die.” He refused to dignify her-it with a response. “But; if you're sure you'll be fine then I’ll leave. It was nice checkin’ in on ya.” Walani took out her board and headed towards the shore. WX-78 processed what a ‘wet season’ would ensue. Strong winds, hail and heavy rain. Lightning. Possible flooding. They were in an equatorial climate, of course there would be tropic storms.

“FLESHLING HALT. WHAT PRECAUTIONS MUST I TAKE TO COMBAT THE HURRICANES AND MONSOONS?” Walani halted and pivoted.

“There's a couple things. Sand bags to help with flooding, you’ll need a raised fire, rain shelter. Other than that there isn't much you can do but wear waterproof clothing. Do you want me to show you how to make that stuff?”

“NEGATIVE. I… APPRECIATE THE ASSISTANCE MINION. YOU MAY LEAVE NOW.”

“No worries WX. If you even need anything feel free to come around, Warly will just have to put up with you.” She hit the water and disappeared into the horizon. WX-78 could manage on his own, couldn't be any harder than winter or spring. There would be lightning too. As long as it didn't strike his camp then everything would be fine, although, he rather enjoyed the feeling he gained from getting struck by it. It was a feeling of empowerment, energisation. He only wished that he could save the electricity for another time, it was quite the rush. He should make a lightning rod so his camp wouldn't go up in smoke, he just needed to find more gold.

#Submarine #Chapter 3 #megadara999 writes #ds #Don't Starve #dont starve #dont starve shipwrecked #Don’t Starve Shipwrecked #WX-78 #Walani #AO3

2 notes · View notes

feminarrie · 6 years

Text

in bloom - ii

Levinia doesn’t really understand how a friendship has blossomed between her and Niall. She had thought that the offer to go out for a couple drinks had been some sort of one-off thing to thank her for what she had done. Even when she kept denying the need to thank her for such a thing, Niall had insisted.

There had been an exchanging of numbers when Niall had walked her home. All the way to the private entrance for the stairway to her flat that’s located in an alleyway to the right of the building. He had wished her a goodnight, hands shoved into his pants pockets before wandering back to his car.

At the time, Levinia had thought that it would be the end of it. Thought that seeing her face was likely too much of a reminder of the horrible things that had transpired on his wedding day. Didn’t expect any sort of text or call following a text letting her know he had made it home safely. She wasn’t happy with it, if she’s honest. Enjoyed Niall’s company, even when there had been few words spoken throughout the night. But, his presence was warm and reminder her of peaceful, sunny days on her back porch. Bees buzzing next to her head and the mixed scents of flowers hanging just beneath her freckled nose.

But, they’re out for yet another Thursday night drink a little over two months later. Niall has memorized her standard order—a glass of sangria with barely a splash of orange juice—and she’s developed a knack for knowing what he’s craving. Tonight, it’s a basket of chips to share while he prattles on about a client he had that week, some professional footballer that sounds like a right prick, if she’s honest.

“Barely missed me head. Probably wouldn’t be sittin’ next to ya if I hadn’t ducked.” Niall laughs, recounting how they had chucked a pair of cleats at his head.

Levinia thinks he’s starting to move past Penelope’s absence, especially recently. She’s noticed the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up more now when he laughs, something that she’s only observed once or twice in the time that they had known each other. It’s something that happens weekly, now.

She knows he’s not completely over it, though. On nights when he’s had too much to drink, he’s resting his head in Levinia’s lap and questioning what he could have done to make Penelope leave. And Levinia wishes she could convince him that he’s not at fault. Tries to tell him she’s a coward for leaving him the way that she did instead of the instant her doubts had casted a shadow.

Tonight feels good, though. She’s pleasantly buzzed, a tingly feeling that began in her tummy is spreading to the tips of her fingers and toes. Niall appears to be the same, happily shoving chips—two or three at a time—into his mouth while Levinia fidgets with the black mixing straw in her drink.

“Are you gonna go back there?” She asks, watching as the thin piece of plastic displaces the melting ice in her glass.

Niall scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Ya must think I’m mental if you’d think I’d do that.”

Levinia pokes her tongue out at him at his response. It’s equal parts childish and flirtatious, though harmlessly. She knows Niall is hardly in any state to enter any sort of romantic relationship following Penelope. Knows there’s a large piece of his heart that’s still clutched in Penelope’s hand, whether she’s aware of it or not.

“Always think you’re mental,” she jokes, a smile pulling at the corners of her glossed lips. “Maybe another drink will change that.”

She tosses back the remainder of the watered down alcohol before tossing Niall a full smile. His blue eyes disappear behind half lidded eyelids before landing back on her. He stands, nevertheless, and makes his way to the bar.

Levinia still doesn’t know how this has happened, but she’s selfish enough to keep it going.

. . .

Levinia wakes from a nap to the sound of her phone ringing on her bedside table. Zeus, the cat she had found making a home out of her greenhouse, all but sighing when she leans across him to grab it. She looks at the screen and sees Niall’s name displayed across the hazy black background.

“‘Lo?” She answers, voice still thick with sleep and perhaps a little bit of cottonmouth.

“Were ya really sleeping?” Niall laughs and she can practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Are you really calling me while you’re working?” She quips, eyes still closed.

She pets at Zeus’ thick white and brown coat, mentally reminding herself to properly brush him later. His annoyance from earlier soon turns into loud purrs and contentment when she begins to pet a particular spot just behind his left ear.

“Just checkin’ in to see if we’re still on for Harry’s, tonight.” He says.

“Yeah, why do you think I was napping?” She asks, and it’s a reminder of the heaviness in her chest that she only gets when she’s roused before she’s actually ready. “Gotta sleep for a little bit to keep up with you lot.”

It’s the truth, really. Niall and Harry tend to stay up far later than she’s used to, still putting away drinks or passing a spliff between the two of them. Levinia usually makes an excuse to retreat to one of the small, but soft couches in the living room of Harry’s flat.

“If ya can’t hang, pet.” Niall jests and if she wasn’t so fond of him already, the cheek he constantly gives her would certainly have her rethinking their close friendship.

“Fuck off,” she laughs. “Zeus and I are going back to bed. I’ll see you at Harry’s.”

Levinia tosses the phone back on the bedside table before settling back underneath the mustard yellow duvet that had shifted to sit at her hips. Thinks about how she’s still got another hour left to sleep before she’s forced to get ready. And she’s happily falling back into a light sleep with Zeus purring away at her side.

An hour passes and Levinia’s eyelids feel like something akin to sandpaper each time they brush over her glassy eyes. A yawn pulls her jaw downward with a pop...and holy fuck, she’s tired. Her bed is far too comfortable to leave and she thinks about texting both Harry and Niall to tell them she can’t make it. But, she’s been cooped up for the past week.

Tending to yet another wedding for a couple that could have been no more than twenty. She hadn’t minded their young age, actually thought it was sweet that they were ready for such a commitment. But, Levinia thinks the bride’s mother simply needed a pointed hat and broomstick to accompany her personality. She had been in Levinia’s shop at least four times that week, including today.

Levinia’s incredibly grateful for the break from such a controlling energy. It had permeated the atmosphere and changed the way in which Levinia interacted with customers and Bethan. She was a quick fuse, the smallest mishap setting off a spark that burned her a little more each time until she blew up at some innocent bystanders. Right now, she couldn’t even recall what had been the final straw, but it had Bethan ushering her up the stairs and demanding that Levinia take the time to sort herself out.

“Take a nap or summat. I’ll close if you’re not downstairs before then.”

As Levinia’s pulling on some old pair of black skinnies and her dad’s old Led Zepplin shirt (made vintage by the holes that look eerily like old cigarette burns), she makes a mental note to take Bethan out for a nice meal next weekend. Thinks she deserves it for putting up with Levinia when her mood is sour and she spits venom at the first thing to move. Especially when she’s already got two little boys that push her buttons every moment they get.

She wipes at the stray mascara and eyeliner that has smudged against her cheeks after a nap before sliding on a pair of sandals before she’s heading out the door. When she steps outside, even at half six in the evening, the sun warms her skin. It’s a sign of the impending summer that’s just a few short weeks away. Levinia thinks it’s a shame she’ll be in her little stuffy car on the way to Harry’s place, would much rather be able to walk to his flat. But, the car journey alone is half an hour and she’s not exactly got the right shoes for it.

. . .

The trip hadn’t been so bad, if Levinia’s honest. She’d blasted some trashy pop music from her childhood the entire way there, singing at the top of her lungs. She had only turned it down when pulling up against the curb parallel to Harry’s flat. She puts the yellow Volkswagen beetle, affectionately named Bumble, into park before letting Harry know she’ll be walking up to the entrance. She really only does it to avoid pressing the intercom system button that allows her to speak to Harry. Something about the interaction makes her uncomfortable, even though she’s chosen to simply yell upward toward the sky until his mop of hair appears at least once or twice.

She hears the familiar buzz and click of the door when she approaches it, quickening her steps to open the door before it locks once again. The wood of the shiny, but worn stairs creak with each step she takes until she’s coming up on the apartment labeled 204C. Harry’s got some fake peonies arranges into a wreath hanging from the door and she likes to think she has something to do with the new addition.

Levinia raps a closed fist against the white wooden door and waits to hear a call of ‘come in’ before making her entrance. She slips her feet from the sandals and It smells like a mix of some cologne she can’t really place and apples. It’s likely that Harry’s tried his hands at yet another new food that she and Niall will undoubtedly engorge themselves on later that night.

“Oi, there she is.” Harry’s voice carries from the balcony just off the sitting room.

He’s in a dark grey top that’s rolled at the sleeves and skinnies that rival her own. Levinia has half the mind to pout about the fact that his legs look better than hers, but she doesn’t. Simply holds up the bottle of vodka that she pulled from the large black purse hung from the crease of her elbow.

“And she’s brought booze!” He laughs, pulling the clear bottle from her hands and wandering into the kitchen.

Levinia follows him there, placing her bag on a seat that sits neatly beneath a mahogany table. Her feet make contact with the cold, white tiled floor of the kitchen as she makes her way to the refrigerator.

She’s far too comfortable with Harry, she knows. After less than two months of friendship, she should still be asking where he kept his best mixers instead of sorting through the refrigerator to find the jug of orange juice that she knows he always has. But, it’s been easy to fall into a close friendship with Harry. Feels like they’ve known each other for ten years with the way they interact with one another.

It rivals the solid friendship that has developed between her and Niall, but the trauma of that fated day has binded them together like glue. Levinia has seen him at his most vulnerable, with cheeks splotchy and eyelids swollen from crying. And Niall’s seen her drunk and eyes wild as she tumbles toward the bathroom to empty her stomach of one too many cocktails.

Levinia sets to making herself a drink. Three parts vodka to the two parts orange juice. It has Harry rolling his eyes when he watches her swirl the drink to mix it. A laugh bubbles from his raspberry colored lips when she scrunches up her nose at the taste.

“Don’ really know what you expected, love.” He says, clutching a bowl of crisps in one hand and the bottle of vodka in the other. “Grab that plate with sandwiches and bring it out to the balcony. Niall said he’d be here in ten.”

Levinia does as she’s told, picking up the white and blue ceramic plate before following Harry outside. The sun sits lower in the sky, but still basks the balcony in a golden light. It bounces off her tanned skin and highlights her profile when she places the plate of food on a table between two Adirondack chairs.

She lets herself relax into the sloped chair when she comes to sit, a happy sigh leaving her glossed lips. Her eyes close to bask in the sun, right hand swirling her glass lazily. Levinia’s missed the warm months. The warmth of the sun that dots more freckles across her nose and cheeks had been gone for too long.

“Don’t tell me she’s fallen asleep already.” Niall’s voice says from behind her.

Levinia opens her eyes before turning her head to look at Niall. She eyes the blue, short sleeve button down that he’s left open and the white shirt beneath it. He’s cleaned up well, she thinks. The crisp, blinding white of his shirt is different from the stained and wrinkled one from their first official meeting. She hopes it’s indicative of his continued healing.

“And here I was, about to tell you that you looked good.” She says, her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek and eyes playful.

. . .

The playfulness in Levinia’s chocolate brown irises played out through the night. Niall and Harry had told hysterical accounts of clients they had encountered through their few short years as physical therapists. Each story had Levinia knuckling at the outer corners of her eyes to wipe away running eyeliner.

She doesn’t think the anecdotes would be nearly as entertaining if it weren’t for the smoke swirling around in her lungs and alcohol in her veins. Even so, she laughs until she’s crying and Niall is red in the face at the periodic snorts that huff through her nose.

Levinia simply likes being in the presence of Harry and Niall. They lull her into a sense of comfort that she has never really known. Not even with Bethan, who she’s known for ages—who knows some of her deepest secrets. The warmth she feels is akin to the way whiskey settles nicely in your tummy and makes your eyelids droop with the coziness the emanates from it.

That feeling is stronger now, with Niall’s head in her lap and Harry shuffling off to grab a blanket for the slumbering Irishman. Levinia is running her fingers through the swirls of caramel that lack the typical product that holds it in place. Niall’s half asleep, left cheek pressed to her thigh when Harry returns with a yellow knit blanket.

“Feel free to use the spare bedroom, Ina.” Harry offers, a yawn pulling his jaw downward and scrunching up his face. “Know tha’ Niall snores.”

“Oi, fuck off.” Niall says, nuzzling against Levinia’s jean clad thigh as she tosses the blanket over him.

Niall kicks and toes at the blanket until it’s covering him entirely. Levinia laughs softly, her own fatigue finally beginning to set in. Tonight had gone well, she thinks. Niall had remained in good spirits while Harry’s turkey and apple sandwiches had tasted delicious despite her apprehension. She knows it could have been an entirely different night, so she’s happy to relax into the sofa as Niall begins to drift off.

“Hey, Ina?” Niall’s voice is thick and hoarse with fatigue.

“Yeah?” She responds, dragging her eyes away from the television screen in front of her.

“Glad that one good thing came out of that day.” He says and she can hear the lilt in his words as he begins to drift off.

“Me too, Ni. Me too.”

#my writing #niall x ofc #niall fanfic #niall one shot #niall fanfiction #1dff #one direction #niall horan #1d fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fic #niall horan one shot #niall horan series

47 notes · View notes

classic-cherryberry · 7 years

Note

For the *cough cough* self-harm reactions post (because, as someone who's gone through it before, it breaks my heart), assuming Red is the one who did it (of course, who else?... poor guy...) ‼️⭕️ Blue, ❗️♨️ Classic

This little drabble ran a bit long. Heh- w o o p s . That’s why it took way longer than both you and I expected- so sorry for the wait. In this story, Undertale Sans shall be referred to as Comic and Underfell Sans will be referred to as Red. I didn’t incorporate Blue’s piece here since this bit took long enough to write on its own.

Ugh… it is HOT today. Red sighs as he flops onto the couch, feeling sweat drip down his skull. Weather on the surface is so fuckin’ weird… he doubts he’ll ever get used to it. He sub-consciously wipes his forehead, feeling another heat pulse run through his covered arms. Must.. take… off… jacket…

He grumbles and slips his arms out of the cursed thick, black sleeves and carelessly tosses the black mass across the room, watching with slight amusement as it lands on the stairs and falls down a step. Serves the sun-soaker right… he groans as the heat stops pulsing through him, his now bare arms relieved from the pain of that winter jacket.

In the kitchen Comic is sitting on the counter, lazily swinging his legs a wooden spoon magically stirs a pitcher to his right. Of course, stirring it himself is just too much of a bother. He hears the set of groans from the other room and opens his eyes, his curiosity and slight concern sparked. “hey, everything going alright in there red? you good?”

“Yeah, I’m about as chill as I can get in this heat.” Comic snickers a bit at that, and can practically feel Red smile in return. “Izzat cold shit done yet? Been waitin’ for AGES…”

“it’s literally been three minutes, bud.”

“Time is an illusion.”

Comic rolls his eyes. “you need to stop watching so many cartoons, you dork.”

“Yeah, that certainly means a lot coming from you- it’s no secret you binge sit-coms.”

“well, at least neither of us have watched the same documentary about bees seven bajillion times in the last week.”

“Good point.”

Ah, nothing like a good old conversation ending in poking fun at Blue’s weird obsession over cheezy documentaries to pass the time. Comic glances over at the pitcher, which is now a nice steady shade of pink. Looks wonderful for this dreaded weather.

Summer is truly a hoodie-lover’s nightmare.

Comic takes the pitcher, letting his left eye flicker out, as it is not in use anymore, and brings his normal white pupils back into existence before pulling two tall glasses from the cupboard. “you gonna come over here, you lazy butt, or do i have to come serve ya?” Comic calls. He hears Red snicker.

“As if I’M the lazy butt here, Comic.”

“well, i’m not wrong.”

“Just come over here with the fucking gay sugar water, eh?”

“it is not ‘gay sugar water’, it is pink lemonade. i’ll have you know that pink is a very mascul-”

Comic was in the process of crossing from the kitchen to the other room, eyes half-lidded and the lemonade literally only not spilling all over the place due to sheer magic, when his little response got cut short.

Oh.

Fuck.

His gaze is immediately drawn to Red’s bare arms. He had never actually seen him without a hoodie or long-sleeved shirt, and now he thinks he knows why.

“…ine…. color.”

Red just rolls his eyes, oblivious. “Are ya just gonna stand there all day? Get the fuck over here, I’m DYING.” he complains, throwing an arm over his forehead dramatically to emphasize his point. His arm… Comic’s smile tightens a little as he resumes his walk over, deciding not to ask questions… yet.

He can’t bring himself to say anything witty, his soul feels like it’s being weighed down and his metaphorical throat is suddenly dry. He makes no comment as he sits down on the couch, pours Red’s glass, his mouth is shut as Red keeps snickering over his own stupid(ly hilarious) jokes.

It takes Red a few minutes to even realize Comic is being unusually quiet and still. He playfully rams into his shoulder, amusement glimmering in his red pupil. “Whazza mattah wit’chu? Heat melt your tongue off?”

Comic jolts a little, pink lemonade sloshing onto his lap and making his cheeks heat up with a light blue glow. “u-uh-”

Red snickers and leans his head against Comic’s shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Ay, common- I ain’t stupid. Tell me what’s goin’ on in your weird mind.”

Is Red completely clueless? Does he even realize that his slitted arms are exposed? A chill runs down Comic’s spine, sweat beginning to gather on his brow. “oh, it’s just that it’s weird that you don’t have your hoodie on. i know you don’t take it off much.”

Red shrugs. “So? You’ve seen that shit before, didn’t bother you then. Just fucking spill the beans.” He reaches over with his empty hand to boop Comic on the nose when he sees i t. O h . His joking demeanor suddenly deflates, his arm freezes and his pupil disappears.

Comic tenses as well. “red-! fuck- don’t leave me buddy- come on, i ain’t mad-” oh no, oh no- Comic quickly places the pitcher on the floor, as well as the two glasses, and Red doesn’t even twitch as the cup is plucked from his hand. SHIT.

Comic gently cups Red’s face in his hands. “buddy, red- stay with me- listen ‘ere, i’m not mad at you for- f-for- t h a t- but i need you t’talk to me- please, red-” Red is being unresponsive. This isn’t good. Steeling himself, Coming takes a deep breath, trying to convince his voice to stop shaking.

“red. you’re checkin’ out again, bud. c’mon, wake up.” He uses the loudest, deepest voice he can without yelling in Red’s metaphorical ear. As he hopes- the volume shakes Red back to reality.

“Wha- huh? C-c-” Red jolts a little and gasps, his red pupil returning to his right eyesocket.

“yeah, bud. i’m right here, kay? nobody hurtcha. it’s only been about twenty seconds. you got nothin’ to freak out about. just… here.” Comic bends down and takes up Red’s cup of lemonade again, gently guiding Red’s still frozen fingers around the glass. “drink some of that. it’ll help ya ‘chill’ a bit.”

That definitely helps Red back to the present, his shoulders relax and he lets out a single, distant sounding, “Heh.” He then shakily brings the glass to his teeth, his eyes closing as the cold liquid splashes past the barrier under his skull. Comic breathes a sigh of relief, wiping a bit of the sweat off of his brow.

Once Red swallows Comic decides that he needs to press now. He just… has to know. “you uh… remember why you blanked out there?”

Red hesitates before nodding slowly, his expression darkening a bit. “Yeah.”

“you… think you can talk about it?”

Red looks uncertain. “I-I dunno, man- it- it ain’t somethin’ I enjoy thinkin’ about…”

Comic feels himself losing patience. Some small part of him fears that he was the one to cause Red to do this to himself. The rest of him just needs to know if he’s okay. “red, please… talk to me. i- i just wanna know what’s wrong. wazzit something i did? i mean- some of those look pretty recent- are blue and i doing something wrong?” Well… that all came spilling out quickly.

Red looks a bit shell-shocked. “Wh- Comic- n-no- it- it’s not you, it’s all just… me. It’s… stupid.” He looks away, trying to distance himself from the concerned body pressing up against him.

“…it’s not stupid, red. it’s hurting you. it can’t be stupid if it’s bringing you to such drastic measures.”

Red still looks uncomfortable, but he looks back for a brief moment, long enough for Comic to give him a gentle smile. Red sighs, suddenly itching to disappear into his embrace… though, at the same time, he wants to disappear into the oblivion so that all his lovers could forget about him. About this moment. He’s been dreading it for as long as he’s known Comic and Blue… he knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, and the anxiety of just WHEN had been crushing.

“I’ve just… been worried, I guess.”

Red goes quiet for a few moments, and Comic feels a mighty need to wrap his arms around his anxious doppleganger and envelope him in a hug that never ends. But… he doesn’t know how Red would react to the contact. He’ll… play it safe. As much as it kills him to do so.

“I… some part of me thinks that this is all fake, yanno…?”

Comic bites down on his metaphorical tongue. If he intervenes, Red may never open up about this again. He wants to tell Red that it isn’t- all of this is real and genuine, those thoughts are just old habits-

“I’m scared that yer just puttn’ up with me for the hell of it. Maybe to get some sick laugh from it. I… I’m scared that I’m not doing enough for the two of you. All I do is laze around while Blue works his ass off- and you’ve been takin’ care of the house… I-I’m useless- aren’t I- just a pathetic l-lump-”

Red’s voice begins to break and crack and Comic can’t hold himself back anymore.

Sleeved arms wrap around bare ones, and a smooth skull buries itself into the nook of the neck of the scarred one.

“that isn’t true. none of it. red, i am not acting. blue isn’t just putting up with you- i’ve seen how he looks at you. you aren’t useless. we both love you being here- our lives wouldn’t be complete without you tellin’ jokes, helpin’ out with the laundry… just… being here. you don’t mean less than blue or me in this relationship, red… you just can’t see yourself in the same light as blue and i do. there’s nothing wrong with that… you’re doing your best. that’s all blue and i care about. We’re just so, so happy you’re here, red…”

Red lets out a tiny sob, nearly transparent globs of wet magic pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision.

“That’s why it’s so stupid… I can’t bring myself to believe that.”

Comic can understand that. Sometimes he gets little spells in which everything feels fake as well… is that what Red feels all the time? That’s a lot of pressure on one guy.

“hey, it’s okay. i get that. just try and remind yourself that blue and i are here for you, okay? just… talk to us if it gets bad enough for you to… do that.”

Comic feels Red nod in response. Good… maybe he can prevent this happening in the future. A few quiet moments pass before Red finds his voice again. “Couldja get offa me now? Yer hot as hell…”

This only makes Comic grin. “i don’t need you to tell me that, hun.”

“Oh- come on- I didn’t mean it like that- yer makin’ me overheat here!” Red’s cheeks are flushed. Damnit- as much as he loves Comic nestled up to the crook of his neck like this, his body is considerably warm, especially since he hasn’t taken off his jacket. How he manages in this fucking summer heat is beyond Red. “but you’re so comfy, red…”

“Fuck you.”

Comic is glad that Red doesn’t feel too horrible after that conversation. He’s well enough to make a scene… Comic decides to take that as a good sign.

They’d be okay.

#kustard #classic #fell #comic #red #slight angst #hurt/comfort #kustard drabble #kustard SFW #classic x fell #sans x sans #i might put this on ao3 as well who knows

114 notes · View notes

emphasisonem · 7 years

Text

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again)

For @kiriei who send me a great list of beach prompts, so this happened.

Summary

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

A slow- and frankly, evil- smile makes its way across the blond’s lips. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, but it’s replaced with a nearly-predatory look that gives Bucky goosebumps.

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

In which Bucky Barnes is a show off at the beach and pays the price.

You can also read the fic here.

“I think we have an audience.”

Bucky groans as turns to face his friend Sam, shading his eyes from the bright afternoon sun glinting off the waves. He’d been thisclose to dozing off after a quick swim. The soft sand below their blanket and the warm sun on his bare skin had lulled Bucky into a dreamy half-sleep, and he’s reluctant to pull himself back into wakefulness.

Although, in fairness to Sam, they’d come to the beach to hang out together, not to waste the great weather napping. It was a perfect day, Sam had said earlier that morning, to swim and lounge and people watch. Apparently some other beachgoers had had the same idea.

Bucky wracks his brain, thinking about the other people scattered across the sand around them. There aren’t many – it’s still the offseason, after all.

Sam smirks at Bucky when the burnet quirks a brow.

“Three o’clock,” he tells Bucky. “Blondie looks just your type, Barnes.”

Bucky rolls onto his stomach, brushing some sand from his upper arm as he glances in the direction Sam has indicated. About five feet away from them are a man and a woman sprawled out in low-to-the-ground beach chairs – a couple of the brightly colored old ones with that sort of latticed look to them, Bucky thinks with amusement – watching Bucky and Sam as surreptitiously as possible. The woman is gorgeous, all smooth, pale skin and bright red hair, but her friend…

The blond man sitting beside her is nothing short of the most physically perfect person Bucky’s ever seen. He’s sitting down, but Bucky can tell the guy’s probably north of six feet tall. His broad shoulders and chest indicate a hell of a workout regimen, and his flaxen hair is thick and healthy looking.

Bucky wonders what color the eyes hiding behind the man’s aviators are before turning back to Sam with a sly smile.

“He is,” Bucky replies with a mischievous grin. “Wanna give’m both a show?”

Sam snorts and shakes his head, but he’s rising from their blanket and grabbing the football they’d brought along just the same.

“Such a goddamn exhibitionist,” Sam mutters as he heads toward the water. “They’re probably a couple anyway.”

Bucky chuckles as he pushes himself up off the ground, taking one last glance at the blond before following Sam across the sand. Bucky’s certainly not going to deny his friend’s claim of exhibitionism. He’s never been averse to showing off a little bit if there’s a cute guy or girl around to watch him. And blondie is beyond cute.

“Guess that makes you an enabler,” Bucky teases, biting back a laugh as Sam throws an exasperated glance at him.

“And who cares if they’re a couple?” Bucky asks as he falls into step beside Sam. “Still checkin’ us out, aren’t they?”

Sam doesn’t dignify that statement with anything more than an eye roll and a terse, “Just go long, Barnes.”

Bucky laughs, then breaks into a sprint. He moves horizontally first along the line where the ocean meets the sand toward their admirers, and then moves a little further into the surf. Bucky watches as Sam draws his arm back and then throws the ball.

Sam’s overthrown it just a bit (their high school football days are nearly a decade behind them), but Bucky can still jump for passes nearly as well as he did their senior year. He nabs it with a pleased crow, landing with a splash.

It’s hard to tell because they’re both wearing sunglasses, but if the way the redhead is smirking and leaning over to talk with the blond is any indication, they’re definitely still watching.

Bucky grins and launches the ball back toward Sam.

“They noticed us noticing them,” Natasha says as the two men she and Steve had been eyeing head for the water, a football in the hand of the dark-skinned man. Steve nods, but his eyes never leave the long-haired brunet who’d caught his eye.

His gaze is drawn from the man’s handsome face to his left shoulder blade as the guy and his friend head toward the ocean. Steve thinks he might see scar tissue, but it’s hard to tell given the guy’s chosen to tattoo the whole area along with his left arm. Steve is intrigued by the swirls of color and the story behind him.

He’s also intrigued by the guy’s perfect butt and thick thighs, but, really, who wouldn’t be?

“He keeps looking this way,” Natasha says as the brunet glances back at them before tearing off across the sand. “I think he’s checking you out.”

“They’re probably both checking you out, Nat,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Couple of guys like that? No way they’re not straight.”

Natasha smirks and leans toward Steve as the dark-skinned man throws the ball, and Steve’s breath catches as the way the brunet’s muscles bunch and flex as he leaps to catch it.

“You know what they say about making assumptions, Steven,” Natasha chastises him, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m an ass,” Steve murmurs, body tensing as the brunet’s eyes land directly on him. And then the asshole has the audacity to smile at him, and fuck if that isn’t the prettiest thing Steve’s seen in a good long while. He wishes he could believe that maybe he’s the cause for that sinful grin.

The brunet throws the ball back to his friend, and while it’s not as impressive a throw, it still reaches its target. Which Steve thinks might be unfortunate because Natasha takes the opportunity to applaud enthusiastically.

“What a catch!” Natasha calls out as Steve sinks into his chair and tries to ignore the blush rising to his fair skin. “Get it!”

Steve can hear the brunet laughing, and he doesn’t miss the way the dark-skinned man winks at Natasha. Clearly his and Nat’s attention isn’t unwelcome.

The two men continue their game of catch, Natasha hooting and hollering the whole way through, and Steve might applaud once or twice. Maybe even wolf whistles.

Steve notes that the brunet’s eyes are in fact drifting toward him more often than not. Interesting in the extreme, he thinks.

The brunet wades deeper into the surf with every passing throw, and maybe the guy’s paying too much attention to Steve because he’s about hip deep when Steve sees a fairly large wave building behind him.

“You think he knows there’s a solid chance he’s about to get clobbered?” Steve asks with a rueful smile as he turns to Natasha. The redhead’s brow furrows for a moment as she looks out at the horizon, but Steve knows exactly when she spots the wave because a mirthful laugh bubbles from her lips.

“Are you kidding?” she teases. “You’re way too distracting. That boy is toast.”

Bucky feels the rough pull of the undertow before he sees the wave, but he knows he’s fucked as soon as he realizes that he can’t really swim against the current.

“Buck, watch it!” Sam shouts as Bucky turns, but it’s too late. There’s a giant wave coming for him and he’s only got around three seconds to consider exactly how stupid he’s about to look in front of blondie before it breaks, knocking Bucky off his feet and carrying him closer to shore.

After a moment, Bucky breaches the surface, coughing and sputtering as he pushes his now-soaked hair away from his forehead.

Of course, that’s when another wave comes and hits him square in the face.

Fortunately, it forces Bucky into shallower waters, and he’s on his hands and knees trying to get his lungs back in working order when three pairs of feet stop in front of him.

“You all right, Buck?” Sam asks, and Bucky nods through his coughing fit so that Sam won’t worry.

Bucky shouldn’t have bothered with concern, though, because Sam proceeds to say, “Shit, man, that was funny as hell.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Bucky chokes out, glaring up at Sam as his friend bursts into laughter. Hands-on-his-knees, can’t-quite-breathe laughter. Like Bucky needs this shit.

Bucky begins pushing himself up from the hard, wet sand, and is surprised when he feels a strong hand gripping his bicep and an arm around his waist. When he looks up, blondie is staring back at him with a small smile. The aviators are sitting atop his head now, and Bucky’s a little stunned by how blue the eyes gazing into his own are.

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

Sam whistles low at that, and he and the redhead erupt into a fresh wave of giggles as Bucky glares at them for a moment before turning his attention back to Steve.

“Well, then,” Bucky grins. “Why don’t you tell me your name and let me buy you an ice cream or somethin’ and maybe I can find a spot that needs kissin’ better?”

The blond barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Steve Rogers. And I’d like that.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky replies as he tugs Steve away from their ridiculous friends and toward the vendor up by the dunes. “You like Chipwiches, Steve? Or are you more of a Choco-Taco man?”

Steve eyes Bucky with a smirk. “If you think I’m not getting a popsicle to pay you back for every moment of that shameless display of athleticism of yours before that wave wrecked you, you’ve got another think comin’, pal.”

Bucky barks out a laugh and without thinking says, “Marry me.”

“Let’s see how the ice cream goes first,” Steve grins, winking as the two of them reach the ice cream cart.

Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to be utterly powerless in the face of that smile.

And also that he’s already about halfway to falling in love.

#stucky #stucky au #modern au #beach au #bucky is an idiot #steve is amused #flirting happens #meet-cute

34 notes · View notes