#gonna fill a water balloon with blood and bite into it
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every single time for the last few weeks that i have seen unsourced art on my dash and click into the OP it's been tagged 196. literally every single time.
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Partner in crime (and broken trust) | Bellatrix Black x f!reader
A/N : Yep, I'm definitely gonna finish this challenge in november.
Prompt "I will call out your name, but you won't call back" | "They won't care about you"
Pairing : Bellatrix Black x f!reader
Warning : Torture curse | Major character death | Blood | Graphic description of gore
Pain.
It's the only thing you can think about at this moment. Stronger than humiliation; stronger than terror.
A dull pain that takes over your thoughts; gets under your skin; tears your organs like tissue and bangs against your bones.
It wraps itself around your stupid heart like a chain; makes it beat so hard you fear it will jump out of your chest.
It bites your lungs, making them deflate like helium balloons.
It hits your temples like a hammer; so loud that you expect your eyes to pop out of their sockets.
When the shock stops, you open your eyes. Expecting to see your brain spilled on the ground; your ribcage outside your body with the vestige of your lungs; all in a pool of red blood, shining in the light of the candlesticks. See the reflection of your torn face, your mouth in shreds; bloody nose; the skull shattered.
And in the middle of the carnage, your heart.
Still flapping like a fish out of water. Ripping from its arteries, choking on its own blood.
But none of that.
Just your dark robes and the polished floors of Malfoy Manor. And your resentment and your hatred. Burning flame, devouring your insides.
"You... you... won't... get away... with... this."
The effort you have to make to articulate these words makes you feel like you're spitting out razor blades.
And the woman laughs. Her wand still pointed in your direction. Her eyes shine with a gleam of madness and a sadistic smile stretches her lips.
Thinking that you happened to find her likeable during your school years...
Louna was a kid on the Quidditch team. Not mean but not friendly either, obsessed with winning. She could be pleasant when we were on her team, but she was a real pain with the others. You now realize how much power influences pathetic minds. Give a fool a crown and he'll think he's a king.
"You talk a lot for a traitor."
Her high-pitched voice makes you want to punch her in the face. But your own wand lies on the ground, broken in two. You grit your teeth to hold back a groan of pain. You should have suspected that. A coward like Louna can only be a specialist in ambushes.
"You know... I would never have believed that about you... A spy, really! A waste of talent, if you ask me... You could have become an excellent Death Eater... But hey, too bad! It's your problem after all!
Bitch.
You would like to silence her; making her swallow her satisfied smile. But your feet are as if nailed to the ground. Your breath comes out like the hiss of a snake. Each breath painfully scrapes your lungs.
"Tell me, Y/N. Where is your girlfriend now?"
The air gets stuck in your throat. Your vision blurs with tears almost immediately. The taste of blood fills your mouth as your teeth pierce your gums again.
Betrayal hurts even more than torture.
During the long seconds when your body was under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, the memories of your coming here took a back seat. But now it's all coming back to hit you with the power of a train.
She's in the next room... Because she's the one who asked me to come here...
Silent tears flow down your cheeks without you being able to control it. You don't want to cry in front of Louna, but your body doesn't care.
The taste of betrayal rises in your throat like nausea. Stronger and more repulsive even than that of blood.
The one I treated like a friend... Protected with my life... Loved with all my heart and soul combined... Sold me out for a better place in this damn organization...
The most painful thing is undoubtedly that you never doubted her. You knew how attached she was to her family's values, but you naively thought that she valued you more than that.
Love put out your eyes and now it will take your life.
You have no illusions. No one betrays Voldemort and can hope to escape alive. It's only a matter of minutes; or seconds, perhaps? It all depends on when Louna gets tired of playing with you.
You barely feel your knees hit the floor. Your body is terribly heavy and you can no longer move or speak.
So you close your eyes. As you always did so well. You let your mind wander to happier times as your spirit slowly extricates itself from your body.
...
"It's not possible, you're cheating!"
You crossed your arms over your school uniform, giving Bellatrix an indignant look. The teenager shrugged her shoulders, a mischievous smile on the lips.
"Or maybe I'm better than you at ricochets."
You looked at her from head to toe with a suspicious look.
"It's not possible, you didn't know how to do it ten minutes ago!"
She tilts her head, still that playful glint in her eyes.
"What do you want, I'm good, that's all."
She extends the hand hidden in her skirt to behind her back. You follow her gesture with your gaze, suspicious.
"What are you hiding behind your back?"
She flutters her eyelids in a falsely innocent look.
"Nothing at all."
"Well of course I'll believe you!"
With a quick movement, you threw yourself at her to intercept her arm. But she is faster and dodged at the last moment. However, caught in her momentum, she fells backwards. She took the opportunity to place an arm behind your waist. You let out a small cry as your body hit the grass.
She bursts out laughing as you tried to free yourself from her embrace. Blades of grass get tangled in her curly hair. You tried to dust off the dust that now stains your uniform. You tried to look angry but your smile betrayed you.
"Stop laughing, Bella! It's not funny !"
She laughed harder and you felt her laughter infect you. Soon there were two of you laughing like crazy. Hair full of grass, the rays of the moon barely illuminating you, and the cries of wild animals coming from the forest.
This would be terrifying for anyone but not you. And right now you wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. Together.
Your laughter ended up slowly fading. Giving way to a comfortable silence.
You will always remember that the sky was full of stars that evening.
Her hand slowly slipped into yours. Your heart immediately raced as a strange feeling settled in your stomach. You didn't know what it was but you didn't want it to end.
"Hey, she murmured after a moment, are you going to snitch?"
The question came out of nowhere and brought you out of your torpor. You blinked several times, not sure you understood.
"To Filch," she confirmed with a grimace. eI know you're trying to establish yourself as prefect."
She pretended nothing but there was a particular sound in her tone. You felt like she was testing you.
"Of course not ! you propped yourself up on your elbows, eager to return the favor. "And you, are you going to say that I cheated to get this job?"
She smiled mischievously, and for a second you really thought she was going to report you. Then she laughed again, softer this time. Then she stood up again
"We're even, then. I don't say anything, you don't say anything. We are partner in crime now."
She held out her hand to you, like a promise, and you shook it without hesitation.
"Yes, partner in crime."
The memory evaporated with your last breath. Leaving as witness only a sad smile on your lips and a tear in the corner of your eye.
#whumptober 2023#day 2#angst#bellatrix black#bellatrix lestrange#female reader#xreader#reader insert#gxg#gxg imagine
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Omg I’ve read some of ur fics and ur SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER! Can I pls request a Bakugou x fem!reader where he comes home angry and when u try to comfort him he just says something that hurts u. End it with fluff plzz THANK YOU
Genre: angst with a good ending
Warnings: language, bakugou being somewhat a shitty boyfriend, the reader is very forgetful if you haven’t noticed and it's me since I can’t remember anyone’s birthday or any important date to save my life
Synopsis: it’s Bakugou’s birthday, so why isn’t he still home?
•
So, maybe you weren’t good at remembering birthdays.
And it was true you forgot your boyfriends’ birthday once- it took a long time for you to get him to talk to you again. As if he wasn't grumpy enough already.
And even though he insisted he hated birthday parties and celebrations, you knew how much he liked to see his friends coming together to celebrate.
Well, you always thought he liked it when you were there, too.
Or maybe not.
Remembering the last time, how much he scolded and silent treated you, you wanted to make up for forgetting his birthday, and your anniversary and- yeah, you did forget quite a lot, you wanted to make up for it all.
Since you usually celebrated his birthday not precisely on his birthday but always the day after, you thought it was actually going to be a surprise for him this time. You had also planned a party for the next day to celebrate with his friends, but you wanted to celebrate this one with him and only him.
You gave it your everything to celebrate his birthday in the best way possible, you knew he didn’t like going out to eat, so you decided to make it in your apartment.
You baked a cake, cookies, and those gluten-free shit that he liked, a meal you never thought you would be able to handle, roses and candles… and it was evident how much time and thought you gave to it, making you smile proudly at yourself.
So as you waited for him to come back from work- you took the day off to get everything ready, you were all jittery with excitement.
What would his reaction be? That was all you could think of as you waited for the familiar sound of key jingles.
And waited.
And… waited.
You had been leaving texts and calls to his phone almost every hour, but you knew he never was the type to check his texts anyway, he probably would be home before he even saw your texts.
The night felt longer and longer as you looked at the clock, moving.
A familiar lump was forming in your throat, a feeling of stinging in your eyes making you furious with how easily you felt down. He was probably just… late because of work.
At least 5 hours late, though.
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat that was hurting at this point, to look up so the make-up that you spent hours on wouldn’t smudge, to plaster a smile on your face so that you could smile brightly when he entered the room.
It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted to make him happy.
You bit your quivering lip as you finally stood up, taking the untouched food from the table that was now ice-cold, and even though it looked mouth-watering, you didn’t feel like taking a bite.
It just… it just hurt to see the food you spent so much time on, the one you tried a few times beforehand so it would be perfect go to waste, without him even getting to taste it.
It would have been bearable if you just knew he would come really late, or that he wouldn’t come at all, but the feeling of suspense, to jump in your place and get ready to surprise him whenever you heard footsteps, that was the most tiring of it all.
You didn’t lose your composure, though. Not until you had decided to blow out your favorite 'special ocasion' candles so that they wouldn't go to waste.
No, you didn't let yourself cry until you had noticed they had melted, the now frozen wax puddling beneath the candle holders and staining the table.
You sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that stung your eyes.
You weren't crying at the candles, of course, but more at the fact that you had been waiting for him for that long, but Bakugou still wasn't home.
Your boyfriend wasn’t home on his birthday.
You bit your lip, trying to turn a deaf ear to your dark thoughts that kept repeating you the same thing, that Bakuogou wasn't here, was it because he didn't love you anymore? Because he was bored of you, that he hated you and that-
As you furiously wiped the tears that felt like they were burning your skin, angry at yourself for pitying yourself like this, new ones filled their place instead, and it soon was near impossible to stop crying.
He wasn’t home as you were crying either, though.
He came home long, long after that, after you had finally stopped crying, the sobs that were shaking you now just soft sniffs and sighs.
You heard the keys jiggling for a minute, unable to open the door on the first try, he opened the door a bit too roughly.
He probably wasn't drunk, Bakugou was never the type to like losing himself, his control, and his logic, but it was evident he wasn't exactly sober, either.
You didn’t have it in you to jump from your seat as you did a million more times that day, neither did you have the energy to go running into his arms, drown him in kisses-
You just lay there on the couch, your make up smudged as you stared at the ceiling, probably causing you to look like the dead corpse bride.
“At least come greet me, will ya?” He mumbled, the words causing your blood to boil in your veins. You didn’t answer back.
“Oi, Y/N!” You heard him call out, his eyes roaming around the room, trying to understand why there were so many roses and balloons around the shitty room until his gaze found you.
You who laid on the couch, looking at the ceiling, your mascara, and eyeliner or whatever the fuck it was called running down your face in tear stains. But it was the look on your eyes that caused a lump to form in his stomach.
Blank.
“What are you-”
“H-hey, Katsu.” You said weakly, almost a whisper. You bit your lip, trying to gather the courage to say the words to him. “Happy birthday.”
Your voice cracked with emotions, Bakugou felt a wave of goosebumps tingling on his skin, well aware something was very wrong.
It took him a while to understand what was going on, and his only reaction was, “Well, shit.”
You stood quiet.
“We were out with shitty hair and- I didn’t notice it was this late.” He told you as he checked the hour on his phone, noticing the missed calls and texts, grimacing internally.
You were still quiet, though.
“I didn’t think you were gonna do something for me, damn it!” He snapped, expecting a reaction, any reaction, but he got none. You just stared at him, and it felt him feel so guilty.
“H-how could I have known? I thought you had forgot!” He continued, and that got a reaction from you, a grimace that looked like he just slapped you, and a single tear trickling down your cheek. He noticed your widening eyes, realizing how the words came out, trying to correct himself as he walked towards you.
“I’m not blaming you, for fucks sake, I’m just saying that- that you aren’t very good with dates and you usually forget these shitty things.” Now that he tried to explain it, it sounded even worse, so he decided to shut up, instead.
A few minutes of silence passed, your eyes never once meeting his crimson ones, and he noticed you rising to your legs. “I hope you had fun.” You shrugged with a faint smile. The way your lips trembled despite the smile just made him want to pull you in a hug, apologize until he couldn’t even talk.
But he didn’t, of course.
He watched you walk into the bedroom, not missing how you secretly tried to wipe your tears away.
Bakugou stood up, going to the kitchen to drink some water to get rid of this ridiculous lump in his throat and this tightness in his chest, his eyes falling on the two plates that stood on the counter, the untouched food that stood in them, apparent that there was too much time that was spent on it.
You hadn’t touched your food, either, he noticed. You had to be hungry. Bakugou bit his lip that started to quiver for some stupid reason, took the metal fork that felt cold between his fingers, taking a bite out of the food that would have been the best thing he ate if it was warm. Only if he had come sooner, maybe he could’ve enjoyed it with you, laughing at some stupid shit you said.
He thought you forgot.
Bakugou was afraid you were thinking that he was punishing you for the last time. He was so afraid you would think that since it was exactly the type of thing that he would do.
Not to you, though.
Never to you.
He thought you forgot.
He thought you… forgot.
“Y/N?”Bakugou muttered when he went back to the bedroom, noticing your figure that stilled instantly in the bad in a pitiful attempt of acting asleep.
“I know you’re awake, dumbass.” He mumbled, sitting on the bed, his hand reaching to your face and pushing back the hair that was touching your frame. Your face was wet with tears, skin warm with emotions.
“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered, aware of how you flinched at his words, under his touch.
“I’m really sorry.” He repeated, voice hoarse and sincere, that it caused you to open your eyes and look at him for the first time that night.
Did he have to look that handsome as he broke your heart?
“Katsuki?” You whispered, his thumb caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you. “Did you rather be with them than me?” You finally asked, the question that was eating you alive the moment you noticed that he wasn't coming home.
“No.” He answered plainly, but that was all you needed to have a soft smile settle on your lips.
It took you a while to break your silence. “I didn’t burn the kitchen today.” You told him nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, but Bakugou knew you too well, aware of how hurt you still were, and how you were trying to avoid it instead of confronting.
“I noticed.” He answered with a slight tilt of his lips.
“Are you hungry? I think there are some cookies in the counter-”
“Y/N," He stopped you. "I’m sorry.” Bakugou repeated, his words causing your eyes to water. He settled down next to you as you tried to hide the tears sliding down your cheek, pulling your face to his chest so you could hide your face from him. His arms wrapped around you, he settled his chin on top of your head, cooing soft words at you.
You were content with his caramel scented hands caressing your hair, and you face as if trying to etch it into his brain, with the soft gaze in those crimson eyes that looked at you with love and guilt, but it was oddly relieving to have him apologize.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, and you sobbed and sobbed.
It was odd that whatever happened, it was always between his arms you found peace, felt safe.
“I love you.” He whispered into your hair after a while, after you had stopped crying, on the verge of sleep. “The food was good.” He smiled, his voice being the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, and he finally felt the tightness in his chest dissolve when he saw the shadows of your sadness on your face disappear, causing him to pull you even more towards him.
Whatever happened, even when you broke each other's hearts, having you between his arms was all you needed to mend a broken heart.
#bnha x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha x you#mha x reader#bnha bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#mha imagines#mha fanfiction#bnha scenarios#bnha angst
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ReaperXFem!Reader
Doom: To Hell And Back
Epilogue: Pinky Promise?
*Gasp!* two in one night/day?! Here it is everyone the final chapter! I promise this time. Next we'll have to see what happens with Reaper!Kennex and his Guardian Angel! 😘
Happy New Year my loves! Let's make it a good one this time, eh?
-H❤🖖
Seven Years Ago:
Mission: Classified
Location: Classified
Your breath came out in cool white puffs as you ran through the snow-covered forest. A small child gripped onto your coat as you bobbed and weaved through the trees. She babbled in Russian tears streaming down her cheeks, she screamed as gunshots followed you.
Huffing you skidded to a halt at the edge of a cliff, snow and rocks tumbled to the icy river below. The little girl whimpered and shook in your arms,
“It’s gonna be okay sweetie,” you whispered hoping to convey reassurance. Bullets whizzed past you making you duck and turn so the child didn’t get hit. The angry shouts spurred on the crazy idea that you had been mulling over.
“Here goes nothing,” you growled and jumped off the cliff.
You gasped at the cold biting into you, the breath in your lungs flew out of you like air out of a balloon. Holding onto the little girl you broke the surface of the churning river; the girl coughed and spluttered, her teeth chattering. “Crow!” a few voices shouted, looking over you saw your team running alongside the bank trying to desperately figure out how you fish you from the freezing water. Dipping under the water again you barely felt the hand that grabbed the back of your vest. Breaking the surface you took a deep breath, the girl screamed and cried in fear. Coughing you did the best to shush and soothe her, “It’s-it’s okay,” your teeth chattered. Multiple hands pulled you from the icy water and dragged you to the bank of the river.
Your CO leaned over you with an amused crooked smile on his lips, “Did you really have to disappear like that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You snorted a hysterical laugh, “Siberia Hunter, I needed to become a ghost,”
Hunter grunted and shook his head, “Warn me next time will yeh?”
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
One Year after Olduvai
Mission: Survive
Location: Classified
You watched the crowd casually, your sundress a pop of color against your skin. The coffee set in front of you had long since gone cold. Dark hazel eyes watched you from across the table,
“What John?” you asked with a sigh rolling your head in his direction. John smirked tapping the bistro table with a single finger. He didn’t say anything, just watched you like you the most fascinating thing in the world.
“John,” you grumbled and the man sat up from his slouching position. “You’re leaving,” he whispered, he didn’t phrase it like a question. There were no anger, malice, or accusations in his tone; just sadness. You winced anyway heart cracking a fraction, swallowing you looked down at your forgotten coffee.
“I have to,” you mumbled, the cafe awning did nothing to combat the heat that surrounded you. John gritted his teeth, “You don’t,” he ground out frustration evident.
You shot him a look, “John it’s dangerous when we’re together, we’ve almost been caught four times in the past six months.” you hissed leaning forward. He followed your actions so you were inches apart; there was a fire in his eyes and he didn’t want to let go. He deflated in defeat when your words rang true. You brushed a strand of hair off of his forehead, “Get a haircut,” you advised making him chuckle and shake his head. Smiling you leaned over the table, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’ll miss you,” you whispered.
John cupped your cheek eyes searching yours, “Promise I’ll see you again,”
You grinned at him and held out your pinky, John snorted another laugh before intertwining his pinky with yours. “Promise. You’re my best friend John, I need you in my fucked up life,” you snickered. The man in front of you grinned back at you, “Yeah we need to make a club,” he groused with a roll of his eyes. Your hands fell apart as you stood, “We’ll make t-shirts,” you joked grabbing your back. John looked sad again as he watched you round the table to his side, “We’ll see each other again,” you kissed his head again. You drifted into the crowd easily getting lost within it. You had both promised each other a long time ago that you would never say “Goodbye,”
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Five Years after Olduvai: Present Day
Mission: Destroy remaining ARKS
Location: Egypt
You scowled behind the black cloth that covered your mouth as the sandstorm continued. “How much longer?” you shouted over the wind. Your contact held up five fingers as he primed the charges. Setting your jaw you squinted out toward Cairo, ‘God I hope Cooper is still doing his damn job,’ you prayed silently. Looking back down the stone corridor again you saw that your contact and demo expert run toward you holding his baseball cap in place with one hand. “Oh this so illegal,” he squealed, running past you to get to the camels as fast as possible. Rolling your eyes you silently follow him only stumbling forward as a blast rocked the giant Sphynx. “Sorry, buddy, greater good and all that,” you sighed as stone crumbled down from the monument. You hefted yourself onto the camel just as your phone buzzed,
“Hello,”
“(Y/N),” Hunter’s voice made you freeze, and your breath quicken. “Hunt wha-” you scrambled to figure out what was wrong. The man shushed you easily, “I’m fine, kid but it’s John,”
You choked, “Is he hurt again? I-” you gasped out directing your camel to the city, making it go as fast as it could. You remembered when John got hurt a couple of years ago, his coma made you a wreck. You hated yourself for leaving again the way you did but you overstayed your welcome and your job of making sure he was taken care of was done. His bloodwork modified and his prosthetic paid for. Your heart pounded in your ears, eyes stinging with tears and sand.
Hunter took a breath, “He’s fine. The UAC, they know where he is. They sent contract killers,” you growled into the phone, the low rumble in your chest made Hunter chuckle nervously. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,”
“I know you will kiddo, usual paperwork is in the terminal. Locker 170-I, code is your birthday,”
You hung up the phone and abandoned your camel on the outskirts of the city with an affectionate pat and a kind family. Dumping your phone you headed straight for the airport with one person on your mind.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Five Years After Olduvai: Present Day
Mission: Live
Location: “The City”
John clutched his mug of coffee like it was a lifeline, the hot liquid warmed his hands as the snow fell in big flakes. “ The report on the last body indicates that the woman was completely drained of her blood and she was displayed in a public place for several hours before anyone noticed that she was really dead,” a voice piped up from beside him. John hummed at his android partner Dorian before taking a tentative sip of his coffee, “That’s just what we need, another serial killer,” he grumbled sarcastically into his cup.
Dorian opened his mouth to sass back but John had abruptly stopped in his tracks. The man spun around looking at his surroundings, coffee forgotten on the ground, a distinct smell filled his nose. A scent he would recognize anywhere. Oranges, old books, and jasmine, “(Y/N)” he whispered scanning the crowd. He caught a glimpse of what he thought was you but you seemed to disappear like a mirage,
"John, you okay man?" Dorian placed a gentle steady hand on John's shoulder dragging him out of his trance. The scent of you faded away like a pleasant dream, "I'm okay, just thought I saw an old friend," he whispered sadly. Pulling off Dorian's worried hand he continued leaving the empty coffee mug on the ground. 'What would I do for you?' He asked himself sourly the image of you laughing entering the forefront of his mind.
You looked down from a rooftop heart racing. Two bodies lay at your feet heads twisted at an unnatural angle. Tearing your eyes away from John you eyed the city wall and then glanced down at the dead men, "What I would do for you?" you asked tiredly.
"I would do everything,"
The echo of two voices floated across the city, only to be heard by the falling snow.
Tags:
@thottiewithashotgun
@lauraaan182
@writerdee1701
@dw-writes
@marvelouslytrekking
@stileslover13-blog
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gonna be around
rating: t
warning/s: blood mention, and an unconscious person is kissed
pairing/s: dreamnotfound
genres/tags: realistic minecraft au, potions, bad ideas
word count: 4603
summary:
In which Dream and George do not listen to Sapnap, a run-in with a witch goes wrong, and what the heck is ree-tuh-velo? (Or is it reh-too-velo?)
+ao3
;;
For all intents and purposes, it should be easy. All they have to do is cross a swamp biome to get to the stronghold containing the End portal, and voila! They’re done. And it is easy, for a time. George ignores the weight-gain of his jeans as the ends of them fill with water, and Dream ignores the tiring of his arm from holding his shield for so long. Sapnap ignores the squelch of his leather boots in the mud. They’re fine. It’s all easy; it’s all good.
And then Dream comes to an abrupt stop, leaving George to run into him, and Sapnap to almost stumble if it weren’t for how firmly his feet were in the mud. “What?” George asks, as the trio stare ahead of them. “What is it?”
Dream points a finger directly ahead. “There’s a witch’s hut over there.”
Sapnap sighs. “See, we should’ve just gone around. Maybe if you two listened to me more often—”
“Do you think there’s anything in it?” George asks, turning to Dream with wide eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
Shoving down his irritation at getting cut off, Sapnap crosses his arms over his chest. “Everybody knows there’s nothing useful in there, just trouble. So why don’t we just keep going, keep our heads down, no one gets hurt, no one gets killed—”
“Maybe,” Dream says, and with that, the two take off towards the hut, leaving Sapnap to follow, though he finds himself stuck in the mud. With wide eyes, he watches as Dream and George head further into the swamp. Concern inflates like a balloon in his chest, but until he’s out of the mud, out of his boots maybe, he’s unable to help. His gaze drops to his feet, though he can’t even see them, so covered in gunk they are. He’s sunken a fair amount, and when he tries to move, he swears he only gets deeper. He gets his hands around a leg and pulls, trying his best to make some progress in getting unstuck.
“Seriously,” he grumbles to himself as nothing seems to work, “they really couldn’t’ve thought for one minute. One minute. Like, hey, maybe we shouldn’t go inside the scary witch’s house that literally everyone knows only has a little table and mushroom in it? I don’t know. Just an idea. But hey! I’m sure that days-old water is great! So refreshing!” He’s still muttering to himself, working on getting his other leg free, when he hears the sound of footsteps, and sees Dream running towards him at a near-full sprint. Honestly, forget whatever monsters they’ve fought. Having Dream running straight at him full-speed might be one of the most terrifying things he’s seen.
His shield is obviously banged up now, and it shines with some unknown substance that drips down it and onto the ground below, though some flies off behind Dream while he runs. What is also flying off, apparently, is his mask. Sapnap, out of strange respect (he’s really not sure), finds himself looking away from the other’s face, however, to instead inspect the rest of his person. He’s got red staining his front, and Sapnap is pretty sure some of it spreads onto his back too, from his shoulder. His hands, too, are bloodied, but Sapnap doesn’t care when they get a grip around his arms to help pull him the rest of the way out of the mud.
“George,” Dream is saying when Sapnap is finally out of the mud, the name choppy with how hard Dream is breathing, “left him, he—”
This is the most panicked Sapnap has ever heard Dream, and he reaches out a hand to steady his friend when the other turns to go back towards the hut and stumbles. When Dream looks back at him, Sapnap accidentally gets a clear look at his face, and it’s almost his turn to stumble at the sheer fear on it.
“What happened?” Sapnap asks, brows furrowing, that concern from before back in full, no, doubled, tripled now, as Dream falls into an explanation, something about a fight with the witch, it using some kind of potion on George, one Dream’s never seen (one Sapnap has definitely never seen), then using a basic harming one on Dream, resulting in his current state, Dream having managed to only hurt himself worse when on his way to Sapnap.
“So George is still back at the hut?” Sapnap asks, all caution thrown out the window out of worry for his friend, ready to turn and run into danger himself.
Dream nods. “The witch, it’s gone. It—”
“Not an invisibility potion,” Sapnap groans, looking back to Dream with wide eyes.
Dream only shakes his head, and Sapnap is ready to sigh in relief, though also that means a witch still has George , but then Dream continues: “I killed it.”
Dread fills Sapnap whole. “What?”
“I was panicked; I wasn’t thinking; I was dumb,” Dream looks at Sapnap, one hand with its knuckles turning white from how tight it grips the end of his sword, “we need to go back.”
“Uh, yeah,” Sapnap agrees, finally deciding to just say fuck it and head off in the direction of the witch’s hut. “So the witch is really gone?”
Dream makes an affirmative noise from behind him, and Sapnap sighs, continuing on through tall grass and murky water.
When they reach the hut, the sun has started to set, and Sapnap’s muscles burn as he pulls himself up onto the porch of the hut. He bites back a wince of sympathy when Dream makes a small noise as he follows, and Sapnap is fully able to see the blood that’s begun to stain his shirt down the back. Unable to fight the caring instincts he has, Sapnap kneels down to help Dream get fully on the porch and catch his breath. “Come on, big guy,” he says, placing what he hopes is a comforting hand on the other’s uninjured shoulder, “we’ve got a George to save.”
He’s about to turn and go in when Dream’s hand on his wrist stops him. “Wait,” Dream gets out, “George is—”
“Are you sure George isn’t dead?” Sapnap can’t help the way his voice pitches as he stares at the eldest’s body laid out on the ground, looking definitely worse for the wear, his glasses no longer even on his face, instead lenses-down on the ground next to him.
“He’s not dead,” Dream says, and this time the voice comes from slightly above Sapnap, so he knows the other has managed to push himself up to stand. “He’s breathing.”
“Must be pretty barely,” Sapnap murmurs, moving to go inspect George. His eyes are shut, and ignoring the rest of his body, bruised and slightly bloody, probably from the fight and him falling to the floor, he almost looks peaceful, expression blank, brows relaxed. “What did that potion do to him, dude?”
There’s the sound of scraping and then the hut brightens, making the mottled marks on George’s skin more obvious, the lack of color in his face definitely moreso. But it also makes the slight rise and fall of his chest visible too. “Yup,” Sapnap says, “still breathing.” There’s a soft thunk as Dream sets down the lantern on the crafting table before he’s coming to sit next to Sapnap.
“There’s got to be some notes here or something,” he tells the other. “There’s no way that potion’s been used before. That witch made it, I know it.”
Sapnap looks around at the mostly barren room. True to what he thought, it’s just got the crafting table and a cauldron, and when he glances to one of the windows, there sits a flower pot with just a single mushroom in it. There doesn’t seem to be any secret room, no place to hide any confidential information. It’s just an empty hut, its original owner and all their knowledge now gone.
“Okay,” Sapnap says more to himself than anyone else, though the only other people there are an unconscious man and a desperate man frantically tugging at rotting wood planks, “this is fine. We can handle this. This is fine.”
“Not fine,” Dream says, making Sapnap look over at him. “Come on, dude, we need to search for something.”
Sapnap nods before looking down at George just one more time; his face is still relaxed, his body still awkwardly bent from his fall. Sapnap, for as much as he pokes fun and does his best to annoy the other, doesn’t actually dislike him, so he readjusts George, making it to where he’s laying there flat on his back, arms over his chest, legs stretched out pointing towards the door, minimizing the possibility of unnecessary soreness.
When Sapnap rises, Dream is paused, staring down at George. “Dude,” he says, “don’t make him look dead.”
“He’s going to be more comfortable this way,” Sapnap argues. “Have you found anything?”
Dream flashes him his empty palms, and Sapnap grits his teeth, joining the other in the search. When he can’t find anything either, Sapnap glances up only to see Dream looking over at George. His mask, which had fallen off completely some time on their way back to the hut, Sapnap spies shoved haphazardly into his pocket, as if Dream couldn’t be bothered to put it back on, as if he couldn’t care less if it were to fall out either. This is the most open Sapnap has seen Dream, and he’s not sure he likes it.
Considering their friend is lying unconscious on the floor, the pair of them with zero certainty that he’ll ever wake up again, Sapnap becomes sure he doesn’t like it.
“I’ll check outside,” Sapnap tells the other, making Dream look away from George. His eyes glint in the candlelight, and Sapnap swallows, turning away as he heads to the door. When he pokes his head out, he sees no threat, despite the sun being down, so he makes his careful way out of the hut.
He gives a small grunt when he lands on the ground in front of the hut, the impact worse than it should be because of how tired he is. Nevertheless, he continues the search. It is when he’s starting to fear that he’s walked too far that Sapnap smells sulphur and burning. Dream had killed the witch around here. Sapnap looks around, though the swamp is full of shadows that stretch endlessly no matter which way he looks, even with the dim light coming from the hut, even with the pale moonlight that tries to break through the trees.
Despite this, he pushes forward, reaching out to see if he can feel anything the witch might’ve dropped that Dream didn’t pick up. With the way Dream had been when he reached Sapnap, he doubts Dream picked anything up at all.
Sapnap pauses. Dream is usually the type to roll with the punches, his brain faster than anyone’s Sapnap has ever met, having solved the problem before he’s even faced it—a quality Sapnap has always admired him for. He’d never throw it all out if he weren’t truly afraid. Sapnap’s hand catches on something lodged in the mud. He gives a tug.
A notebook, muddied, maybe, likely, probably illegible. But a notebook no less.
He’s quick to get back to the hut.
When he gets back inside, it’s to find Dream sitting with his back against the wall, the window with the flower pot above his head. He’s got his eyes shut, but Sapnap spies his sword flat on the ground next to him, his hand covering the hilt, ready to wrap around it and spring into action if necessary.
“I found it,” Sapnap says. “You really weren’t thinking today, huh?” It’s supposed to be a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but it falls flat as he tosses Dream, who’s now got his eyes open and on him, the notebook.
“Didn’t know what to do,” Dream replies. “Thanks, man.”
“It’s fine. It’s George,” he says. “I’d do it for you too.”
To that, Dream just hums, working on peeling the pages apart.
“So?” Sapnap asks when a minute has passed and Dream has managed to flip through most of it. “Anything?”
Dream begins to shake his head, and Sapnap’s hands curl into fists at his side, anger rising in him—at Dream, for being so reckless; at the witch, for doing this to George; at himself, for not stopping them; at George, for being the one to suggest such a stupid thing anyway—the anger turns to hate at the last one. But this time, it’s all directed at himself. He’s ready for… something, a fight, a rest, a fucking break, maybe, but then Dream gives a shout, and Sapnap turns to him faster than lightning.
“What is it?” he asks.
Dream shoves the notebook out towards him, and Sapnap steps around George to take it from him, moving closer to the candlelight to better see what’s written.
Base + [Ghast tear + Phantom membrane + Blaze Powder] = RETUVELO
Underneath that, there’s something else, but even with the lamp right there, it’s still hard to read.
Sapnap frowns. “Uh… great. But what is ree-tuh-velo?”
Dream gives a shrug, though it’s distracted, and Sapnap allows himself a smile hidden behind the notebook. Distracted is good. Distracted means he’s thinking. Distracted means he’s thinking the way he normally does.
“A Ghast tear added is regeneration,” he says, making Sapnap lower the notebook. “Membrane, slows down falling.”
“Blaze powder is strength.”
“So what do those combined do?” Dream asks it aloud, but Sapnap knows he’s talking more to himself than him.
That doesn’t mean Sapnap doesn’t have an idea though. “Well,” he says, “the Ghast tear might be what makes him… like this,” he gives a pathetic wave towards George. Dream nods, fingers drumming against the floor.
“What about the strength? When he wakes up will he be like a golem or something?” Dream’s got his eyes locked on George’s face now, staring at it like it’ll somehow hold the answers.
“He doesn’t look any stronger,” Sapnap says. He chews his lip before looking at the notebook again. “Were you able to read whatever is underneath that? What if it’s like… some fine print?” At Dream’s furrowed brow, Sapnap hands the notebook back to him.
“I tried, but…,” he holds up the notebook, making a sputtering noise, lips pursed, cheeks puffed. It’d be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.
“Give me that,” Sapnap orders, taking the notebook back, sick of not having anything. Even with the recipe, it’s like they’re no closer than they were an hour ago. He holds it as close as he can to the flames without it burning and squints, doing his best to read the words. Then his eyes drift back up to the name of the potion, and he gives it another good stare, and then he looks at the ingredients, and looks at the name, and the ingredients, and the name, and then he looks over his shoulder at Dream and George, then he looks at the page as a whole, and oh.
Oh.
“So…,” Sapnap says, “I think I know what the problem is. And also that that witch is braver than all three of us combined. It was still fighting a losing battle, though. And it lost. I guess we’re just that good.” He gives the notebook back to Dream. After he does, he makes his way over to Dream under the pretence of looking out the window. When he turns around to lean against the wall, standing while Dream is sitting, he glances down at the other. “You can thank me later for this, by the way. You’re going to hate me at first, though.”
“Why?” Dream asks. “What’re you—”
Sapnap puts his hand on the other’s head.
“Dude, stop. What the f—”
“Only know that I’m doing this because I care deeply about you both, and that I think this will be better for all of us. Also, I’m doing this because if I tell you to, you’ll say no.”
“Do what?”
“Dream,” Sapnap says, “kiss him.”
“What? No!”
“See?” Sapnap cries. “I knew you’d say that.”
“He’s unconscious, man! That’s weird.”
“I should’ve gone with my original plan,” Sapnap mutters. “Okay, then I’ll do—”
“Your original plan?” Dream stares up at Sapnap with wide eyes. “Dude, what are you thinking? And, wait, don’t get closer, stop!” Sapnap, who had gotten on his knees to sit next to George, moves in closer, glancing at Dream innocently. “No,” Dream says. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll do it.”
Sapnap bites back the yes he wants to give, instead simply scooting back so Dream can instead be the one to hover over George. He’s sure Dream’s about to do it, their faces barely an inch apart, when Dream sits back up and looks over at Sapnap.
“Why?”
Sapnap holds back a groan. “Because it’s the only way to wake him up, idiot!” He stretches to get the notebook off where he left it on the table. He points at RETUVELO. “True love!”
Dream gives him an incredulous look. “How do you know?”
“Okay,” Sapnap begins, and Dream straightens, “look. No. I know what I’m talking about. At first, I wasn’t sure, yeah, but then I saw ‘reciprocated,’ see?” He points at one of the words beneath the recipe. “Here. And it, like, clicked.”
“You were going to kiss him,” Dream says, accusatory.
Sapnap could bang his head on the table then and there. Maybe the cauldron, even. “Because I know it’d make you do it instead! I love George, but not like that!”
“Then how’d you know I—”
They stare at each other, Dream’s hands have come up to cover his mouth.
“Ignoring the fact that I’ve known you eight years,” Sapnap says, the bitterness in his words (mostly) playful, “it’s kind of obvious. Your mask came off and you didn’t even care.”
“You’ve seen my face,” Dream replies, as if he hadn’t put the mask on one day and just… never took it off. As if the one time Sapnap saw him without it after that moment Dream hadn’t immediately slapped it back up against his face until Sapnap turned back around.
“You didn’t think, man,” Sapnap says.
“I thought my friend had died!” Dream argues.
“Uh-huh,” Sapnap says, “like you’d be half as frantic if it were me.”
“I would,” Dream frowns, “seriously. I love you too, man.”
“Not the way you love Goerge,” Sapnap sing-songs. And then he gets tired of this because the information given on the potion was still really bare bones so for all they know George could actually be actively dying and not just… in a coma. “Just… don’t believe me? Fine. Do it and prove me wrong.”
Dream stares at Sapnap, gaze piercing even in the dim candlelight. Sapnap stares back, refusing to back down on this. He’s had his dumb moments, sure, but this is one thing he’s certain of. Not to mention (and not to brag), but Sapnap has always been the best out of all of them with the potions. Just saying.
“Fine,” Dream says, and then he’s ducking down to press perhaps the most pathetic kiss Sapnap has ever seen onto George’s lips, sitting back up less than a second later, eyes wild, cheeks flushed in a way Sapnap’s never gotten to see with the way he’s always wearing his mask. “There,” he continues, “I did it.” And then he looks at Sapnap, almost smugly, which is funny because that means he’d be smug about not curing George.
And then George gasps.
“You’ve got to be joking me,” Dream groans, while Sapnap lets out a yes! that was probably most definitely louder than necessary.
“I told you,” Sapnap says. “I told you.”
“Told him what?” George’s voice is hoarse, and he winces with every word.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dream snaps before Sapnap can get a word in. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve fallen down a ravine,” George replies, not even trying to get off the ground. Granted, there’s nowhere much else he could go. Not while it’s night and he’s still weak from the potion. Dream feels round his pockets then, and both Sapnap and George watch as he pulls out a new potion, one that glows a hot pink.
“The witch dropped it,” he says. “Here.”
When George doesn’t take the potion, Sapnap is about to take it from him, but then both he and Dream seem to realize why he’s not taking it.
“Your mask,” George says. It comes out like a whisper. Sapnap looks over Dream’s head out the window. It's night, sure, but it’ll be morning soon. The shadows dance on the wall as George places a hand on Dream’s face; Sapnap considers sitting out on the porch. “Should’ve kept it on,” George suddenly continues. “You look like trash.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” George’s hand falls from Dream’s face as Dream ducks his head to laugh. George is smiling as he finally takes the potion. Sapnap steadies him when he tries to sit up to take it.
“I tried it on you earlier,” Dream admits. “It didn’t work.”
George is slightly flushed with the effects of the potion working their way through him, and his eyes are bright even in the darkness as he looks up at Dream, who’s still hovering just slightly over him. “What was that stuff?”
Dream looks over at Sapnap, who looks back before dropping his gaze to George. He still feels Dream’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything. What can he even say? The truth will have to come out some time, but it shouldn’t be him to say it.
“Potion,” he says anyway, just to… get the ball rolling, that’s all. “Something new.”
“When I killed the witch,” Dream continues, “it dropped a healing potion. I managed to catch it and come back, see if it worked, before going to get Sap.”
“It didn’t work,” George repeats.
“You were out cold,” Dream replies. “Sapnap thought you died.”
“For, like, a second,” Sapnap cuts in, leaning back on his heels and crossing his arms. “It’s a fair assumption. You were just… laying there.”
“I was unconscious!” George replies. “I can’t exactly get comfortable.” His voice is still scratchy, though less so. Even then, Sapnap’s hand is back on George’s shoulder, and Dream is reaching for the potion, though George shrugs off Sapnap’s hand and smacks away Dream’s. “‘M fine.” He takes a breath then sits up properly, the shadows on his face changing as he moves, though his eyes still shine from the potion. “Is the potion all it dropped?” he asks Dream.
Sapnap should go now. He really should go now.
“A notebook,” Dream answers. “Sapnap went back and found it.”
“You didn’t get it right away? I could’ve been awake a lot sooner!”
“You’re awake now,” Dream snaps back, brow furrowing, “isn’t that enough?”
“I was in fucking limbo, man!”
“You—”
George glares at Dream, and Sapnap bites back a laugh. “I’m the one who was unconscious, me, so don’t even—,” and then his free hand comes up to his face and his eyes widen as when they touch the skin beneath his eyes and not the plastic of his sunglasses.
Sapnap shakes his head as he picks up George’s glasses and hands them to him. “They’re probably all scratched up now,” he tells the other. “Sorry, dude.”
“It’s,” George slides them on, “whatever. Thanks.”
Sapnap gives him a smile before glancing back out the window, where it’s definitely either close to sunrise or the sun is already over the horizon. He pushes himself up off the ground. “Well, I’m going to go look for something we can eat. Don’t forget to tell him about ree-tuh-velo, Dream.” Because knowing them, they’d probably get distracted and end up having that conversation when Sapnap is in a room with them with no quick escape route. At least now he has the excuse of doing something. He gives the pair a wave as he heads out the door, not bothering to look back and instead looking out into the swamp, hoping for just about anything other than mushrooms.
By the time he’s done, he is covered in a new layer of mud, though he’s got a bucket of clean water with him to wash that off this time, and the mess is worth it, if the raw pork he carries with him is anything to go by. When he reaches the foot of the hut, he pauses at the sound of voices.
“... was a dud,” George is saying. “It can’t detect emotion.”
“That’s not true and you know it,” Dream replies. “I tried the healing potion on you at first, and absolutely nothing happened.”
“Because that reh-too-velo shit overpowered it!” George argues.
“You saw the recipe!” The sound of paper. Sapnap leans against one of the posts holding the hut up. “None of that stuff should’ve hurt you.”
A pause.
“Why can’t you just admit it?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“On your side maybe.”
“Dream, what—”
Sapnap looks at the cloth he wrapped the pork in. He’ll need to start a fire. Best not to do it in a wooden hut. He focuses on Dream and George’s conversation one more time. Just to be safe.
“—you!”
“Since when?”
“Since—I don’t know! I just kind of… noticed!”
“Like I believe that—”
“Well, what about you?”
“I—”
Setting the bucket down then readjusting his grip on the pork, Sapnap moves away from the post, deciding to find somewhere else to start a fire. Hopefully they’ll have figured it all out before he gets back.
Returning to the hut what should be a conversation later with cooked pork chops, Sapnap is happy to find his bucket has remained untouched, and he sets it up onto the porch before following.
“Hey, guys,” he says as he enters, showing off the pork, “I got food.”
“You didn’t mention Dream having to kiss me!” George immediately shouts, near causing Sapnap to drop the pork.
“Uh,” he says, and then, “nope. Figured it’d be better if he did. Since he’s the one that… y’know. Kissed you and all.”
“I can’t believe this,” George says, though he accepts the pork chop Sapnap offers him.
“He wouldn’t have had to if y’all had just listened to me,” Sapnap replies, unable to help it. He’s right, anyway. They could have avoided this whole fiasco if Dream and George had just… not gone to the witch’s hut. Simple as.
“Dude,” Dream says.
“Like you were going to confess anytime soon.” Sapnap raises his brows as he takes a bite of his own pork chop. Dream makes a face and that’s when Sapnap realizes—“You’re still not wearing your mask.”
Dream looks down to where it’s still stuffed in his pocket. He gives a shrug. “Don’t really need it right now.”
Sapnap takes another bite of his pork chop before leaning his head back against the wall. “Guess not.” And then he muffles a laugh behind another bite. “So does this mean I need to look for another room when we stay in villages?”
“Oh my God,” Dream laughs while George just throws his hands in the air, “I didn’t even say anything!”
“Didn’t even have to,” Sapnap replies. “I’m just that good.” And also he’s willing to eavesdrop just a little. But still. Considering he’s the one who figured out the Retuvelo potion, he’s pretty good.
“But seriously. Am I going to have to stay in another room?”
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AB Positive
It’s good PR Tony—do it for the company.
Tony stands outside the massive conference room that’s been turned into a temporary blood donation center, stomach churning.
Why don’t you do it Pep? You’re the CEO!
People inside are talking and laughing, eating snacks and having what appears to be a good time, but he can’t shake the urge to walk away and hide himself in his office.
You’re the face of the company Tony, you need to do this!
And he gets it, he really does—a few photos of him donating blood will help tremendously in the ever continual effort to make him seem less the cold hearted billionaire and more the approachable winsome Avenger good guy.
Less of a fuck up.
More...human.
The thing is…
He rubs a hand over his face and draws in a shaky breath.
The thing is, he’s scared.
He doesn’t like seeing blood—namely his own—and after having his chest cracked open in a dank cave in Afghanistan and losing more blood than he’d like in his forays as an Avenger, he’s not exactly eager to go out there and spill more.
Even if it is for a good cause.
There’s a bright laugh from inside the room and he looks in again, attention catching on a handsome man smiling at one of his employees, and Tony’s heart stutters in his chest.
Dark hair, broad shoulders, narrow waist, gorgeous smile…
Okay, so, maybe he can do this.
Sliding his rose tinted glasses on his face, he plasters on a smile and pushes the door open, smiling and waving at his employees and the blood drive staff.
He fills out the requisite paperwork, gets his blood pressure taken(110/70 take that Pepper!) and is sent off to the nearest open table—the one staffed by the hottest man Tony’s ever had the privilege of seeing with his own two eyes.
“Hi Mr. Stark, I’m Bucky and I’ll be your blood draw tech,” the man greets, offering a hand for Tony to shake.
He has a moment of hesitation and then smiles back, more genuinely than when he stepped into the room, and takes the offered hand. It’s warm and dry, calloused but still somehow soft—a contradiction that appears to be very much in step with its owner.
“Heya Bucky, nice to meet you,” he replies, aware he’s got eyes on him—the sound of more than a few shutters clicking reaching his ears.
Bucky’s smile makes soft lines appear around his eyes and mouth and Tony has to choke back a whine—why is he so pretty??? he thinks desperately, it’s not fair!
“Your paperwork says you’ve never donated before, that true?”
Tony nods and smiles uncomfortably, “It’s uh, not that I don’t think it’s important, it’s just, I don’t like…”
Bucky looks up from where he’s writing down something on a stack of paperwork and smiles knowingly, “Don’t like needles?” he guesses.
Tony could lie. He could. But something possesses him and he shakes his head, lowering his voice to respond. “No, I’ve just seen too much of my own blood coming out of my body to really enjoy the idea of donating.”
Well shit he wasn’t supposed to say that.
Bucky stares at him for a moment and then scoots closer on his stool, eyes grayish blue like a thunderstorm sky, studying him.
“You don’t have to donate if you’re not comfortable,” he tells Tony softly, “There’s no shame in that.”
Tony smiles wryly, a little sadly, “You’ve clearly never read anything the papers have to say about me.”
Bucky smirks faintly, “Nope,” he agrees succinctly, the p popping on his pretty pink lips that Tony’s definitely not staring at now.
“We can say you’ve got a fever,” he offers and something flashes through Tony, gratitude and an overwhelming sense of relief that someone gets it—but he shakes his head softly and smiles weakly at Bucky.
“No can do Buckaroo, gotta make sure the people know that Avengers can bleed too!”
There’s a look in Bucky’s eyes, not pity exactly, more sorrow than anything and Tony looks away, shy suddenly.
Why does he always do this?
Five minutes with a pretty face and he’s spilling his guts.
“Okay Mr. Stark, well then, let’s get started.”
Bucky proceeds to explain each step of the process as he goes, and Tony watches him with unabashed interest, studying the way the little pieces of hair that have fallen out of his half man bun have strayed into his face.
He looks away when the needle goes in, stomach lurching at the sensation, swallowing hard for a few moments while he squeezes the little foam duck he’s been given.
His knuckles go white with each squeeze and he closes his eyes, focusing on not throwing up as he listens to the white noise of chatter in the room. A hand brushes against his wrist, closing around it gently, thumb swiping over the heel of his hand softly and he fights a shudder.
“You’re doing great Mr. Stark, keep squeezing every three to five seconds and let me know if you think you’re gonna be sick.”
He nods minutely and lets the warmth of the hand on his wrist ground him.
“It’s Tony,” he whispers, licking his lips before opening his eyes to find Bucky staring at him. “Just Tony is fine,” he explains with a weak, hopeful smile.
Bucky smiles back, wide and easy and Tony’s traitorous heart lurches in his chest.
“Sure thing Tony.”
The thing is…
Tony is feeling...odd.
It’s a little like being drunk; he’s a slightly dizzy, a little goofy, and talking way too much.
“I mean what products do you use because your hair is seriously beautiful! It’s so shiny! And soft looking!”
Bucky smiles faintly, shaking his head at Tony, “Just regular shampoo I guess?” he replies, sounding bemused by the conversation.
Tony lifts a hand as though to touch it and Bucky leans back with a confused look, avoiding the touch.
“Regular shampoo?” Tony gasps, affronted. “But, but, it’s so pretty!” He pouts at Bucky, trying to lean forward to get his hand on it, harrumphing when Bucky pushes him back with an admonishment to sit still Tony.
“You’re like a Disney Princess!” he exclaims, giggling a little.
Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes, “Yea, okay hon, whatever you say.”
Hon...Tony likes that.
Tony whines a little and ok, so maybe he’s acting childish, but Bucky’s just so pretty, how is he supposed to behave?
“Serioulsly, no wait, serio- serioulsly, no, seriously! Ha that’s it!” he stutters, pointing a declarative finger at Bucky.
Bucky lifts a brow and smirks, “You feelin ok there Tony?” he asks, the restrained laughter in his voice very apparent.
Tony pokes his arm and— “Wow your muscles are big, like, how do you even get muscles like that? Are you related to Thor? Cuz that’s just, that’s unreal is what it is.”
Bucky blushes and shakes his head, “Just a few more minutes,” he says instead of answering Tony, standing from his stool to putter around, mostly turned away from Tony now.
Which
Unfair
Tony wants to see his pretty eyes.
And mouth
And hair
And muscles
God he’s pretty
“Thank you Tony, you’re very pretty too.”
Oh shit he said that out loud.
When he looks up Bucky is smirking, eyes twinkling as he works to remove the needle from Tony’s arm and he barely notices the slide of it out of his vein.
Bucky puts a wad of cotton on the spot and guides Tony’s other hand to press down on it, “Okay, hold that there,” he instructs before turning away from Tony again.
Tony does as he’s told and holds it till Bucky replaces it and then wraps some kind of stretchy bandage thing around his arm, nodding as Bucky tells him no heavy lifting, eat a whole meal and hydrate, and expect to be a little more tired than usual. Take the bandage off after four hours and you’re good to go.
Tony nods and scooches to the edge of the cot he’s been laying on, head light as a helium balloon and then—
Promptly collapses, right into Bucky’s arms.
He grins crazily, clinging to broad muscular shoulders, “Ha, well what do you know, I’m really falling for you,” he jokes as Bucky blushes and hauls him upright.
A strong—oh god he’s so strong—arm winds around his waist, guiding him over to the chairs and snacks. He collapses gratefully into the chair and smiles dizzily as Bucky brings him an orange juice and a Nutty Buddy.
“Nutty Buddy! Oh man I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid!”
Bucky grins, “So like a week ago?” he teases, cracking open the orange juice for Tony when he struggles with it.
“Oh, oh I like you,” Tony snickers, “you come here often?”
Bucky shakes his head and smirks, “Your jokes suck sweetheart.”
Sweetheart
Tony’s brain flatlines for a minute as he imagines Bucky whispering that in his ear while he’s buried so deep in Tony that he can feel him in his chest and hnnngggg….
His body doesn’t have enough blood to respond properly to that thought, but his cock makes a valiant effort anyways.
“You suck,” he retorts, “you’re a sucky...you’re a vampire!” he exclaims, pointing a finger at Bucky as the other man laughs and shakes his head. “You are! You suck blood! I bet you’re good at sucking—”
Bucky flushes and reaches out to shove a bite of Nutty Buddy into Tony’s mouth, shaking his head as he does. “And you’re a menace sweetheart,” he murmurs softly, “now eat and drink and be quiet.”
Tony thrills a little at the softly spoken order and nods, eating his snack and drinking his juice till they’re both gone. When he stands again, he sways, but stays upright.
Bucky frowns and steadies him with a hand on his elbow and glances over his shoulder, catching the eye of a petite woman with blonde hair. “Hey Kay, I’m gonna help Mr. Stark upstairs, I’ll be back.”
With her OK, Bucky guides Tony to the elevators and then upstairs to his office, his big warm hand never leaving Tony’s arm. Tony leans into him a little, enjoying the way the other man doesn’t even hesitate to take more of his weight, just slings his arm around Tony’s waist and guides him onto the couch.
Tony slumps back and watches as Bucky rifles through the mini fridge for a bottle of water and a sandwich before he comes back and sits down, staying there till Tony’s eaten every bite.
He doesn’t seem to mind Tony’s inane rambling about why he doesn’t like to see blood—dad smacked me around as a kid, open heart surgery in a cave, Avengers shit—in fact, Bucky frowns and murmurs something about wanting to punch the bastard and Tony feels a thrill of delight at the idea of Bucky’s right hook connecting with Howard’s face.
He’s sleepy by the time he finishes eating and he must look it because Bucky urges him to lie down and produces a blanket from somewhere that he uses to cover Tony, hands gentle as they brush Tony’s hair back from his brow.
“Rest sweetheart, you’ll feel better after a nap.”
Tony nods and makes a soft, muzzy noise of contentment, eyelids growing heavier as he smiles at Bucky.
“Yer so preeetttyyy,” he sighs, hand flopping as he reaches out and finally, finally touches that glorious hair.
Bucky grins softly and captures Tony’s hand, brushes a kiss over the knuckles and laughs softly, “Alright sleeping beauty, time for a nap.”
Tony wants to make a joke about Bucky being the Disney Princess and not him, but the last of his two brain cells have wandered off and his eyes slide shut as his breathing evens out.
He doesn’t hear Bucky leave.
He wakes two hours later, clearer headed and deeply embarrassed by his behavior. He whines softly and buries his face into the throw pillow he’d been drooling into before sighing heavily and rolling upright.
That’s when he spots the note on the coffee table.
It’s from Bucky.
Tony,
I hope you don’t need a kiss like Sleeping Beauty to wake up, but if you’re interested in having dinner sometime, call me.
Bucky Barnes
——————
We had a blood drive at work yesterday and I donated and wound up bouncing this idea around with @riotfalling until I just couldn’t let it go lol so here you go! Hope you enjoy!
@purekate88
@t-h-e-myster-y
@Rinkashitikateku
@desitonystark
@marvagon
@sebastian-i-stan
@astralpcrker
@thirstinart
@starknakedsluts
@slutsforstarks
(As always if you want to be tagged or don’t want to be tagged, please let me know!)
#buckytony#winteriron#tony stark x bucky barnes#bucky x tony#stella writes#crackfic#tw: blood#tw: medicine
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Objection!: Chapter 22
Chapter title: My Starlight
A/n: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR PATTON’s BIRTHDAY BUT I MISCALCULATED THE DATE BUT IMMA POST IT ANYWAY BECAUSE WRITING! ANYWAY, ENJOY ITS BAD. I decided to post it today because then it won't be a thing on Pats birthday and I can just focus on that Anyway this chapter is smOFT and im love them sO much and im gonna cry hes bapey. SORRY THIS CHAPTER SUCKS...ENJOY??
this is so bad lol it went from zero to a hundred real quick and it sucks
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words: 4270
summary: Its Pattons birthday and the day shall only be fun-filled
pairings: logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile
warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol
Ao3 Link
“Happy Birthday!” Two squeals can certainly awaken a man from his troubled slumber. Those two bouncing on him as they hug him as well they can definitely do the trick. Patton blinks himself awake enveloping the twins in his arms, kissing them as thanks. They scramble practically buzzing around the room allowing their father to sit up, rub his eyes placing his frames delicately on his face.
“Good morning” He greets through a yawn, they giggle. A new figure becomes apparent, a smug Virgil and shy Damian approach. “Ah, I see” Patton recognizes, the plan unfolding.
“Why don't you guys go carefully get your dad's breakfast” Virgil wonders, the twins nods dragging a tired Damian with them. They disappear singing down the halls in delight. “I used the key you gave me” He admits, Patton laughs shaking his head. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning in for a quick hug. “Happy birthday Pat” Virgil celebrates
“It is indeed the day of my birth” He yawns once more, dry tears welling from exhaustion. Virgil furrows his brows, checking Patton's face. “Hmm?”
“What time did you-”
“Breakfast for papa!” Valerie cheers, wobbling carefully through the door as Remus and Damian help her. “Look! We helped!” She announces, Virgil lifts her up on the bed with the other two joining soon after. Presenting a beautiful meal, bright fresh fruit, wafting eggs, and a seeping cup of coffee tinted with cinnamon.
“Oh it looks amazing!” he exclaims, the twins walk towards him hugging their father. “Thank you” he kisses them each, making sure Damian receives a hug for his effort.
“Cartoon time!” Remus decides taking the buried remote, he asks his father for assistance. Patton obliges turning the Tv on. The three children sit at the end of the bed watching the pictures across the screen. Virgil sits next to a starved Patton, only half paying attention.
“What are you fun-filled plans for the day?” Virgil whispers as a theme song plays out. Patton swallows a delectable bite watching his children bob along.
“Work, unfortunately,” Patton laments “but it'll be great!” he tries, his tired voice apparent. A quick buzz from his nightstand and he turns. “Gotta take this, I'll be right back” He takes his phone moving to the hallway. “Patton Hart!” As he had done so many times before
“Happy birthday you big doof!” Barbara's voice rings out, Patton laughs crossing his arms against his soft chest, the pajamas only warming him. “Love you!” She excites
“Hey, Babs!” He bites his lower lip, fidgeting with the ends of his pajamas. “Thank you, I love you too” He replies, sweet yawns released from both siblings. “Whatcha up to today?” he questions moving to the kitchen, the slight mess in the kitchen giving him something to do.
“Marce and I were gonna stop by your office before we left but Marce is afraid of missing the flight so..” She responds, a quick shuffle in the phone and soft mumblings.
“Good morning Patton” Marcy greets, Patton smiles to himself as he cleans away the remnants of the breakfast. “Happy birthday”
“Hey Marcy, thank you” He listens as more whines come through before the phone is retrieved. “She seems happy” Patton jokes, Barbara gives a dry laugh.
“She's tired, and mean!” She calls out, Marcy laughs retreating away from the phone. Patton shakes his head, practically visualizing their antics in his mind. “Alright, I love you Pat but I should finish packing,” She says, Patton nods realizing she can't see him. “Bye, and happy birthday”
“Bye!” And the phone goes dead, he sets it down. Humming carefully as he puts away the dishes, feet are heard behind him. He turns giving a small smile at Virgil who holds his breakfast tray. “Hey”
“Wanna finish in here?” Virgil wonders placing the tray down, Patton nods thankfully. “You okay?” Virgil sits on the counter, swinging his legs as he watches Patton.
“Yeah” Patton sighs “Just...tired” He stares through the window, watching the day move faster than usual. The bright January morning, putting up a warm facade knowing that should he step into a cold chill would entrap him.
“Any word from…” Virgil trails off, Patton groans quietly setting down the last dish. The warmth of the water leaving as the faucet shuts off. “Sorry”
“No, you're fine just...not today ok?” He requests, Virgil nods hopping off the counter as the children scatter into the room. “Hey munchkins!” Patton smiles, the twins race up to him tugging as his clothes. He picks them up planting soft kisses on their forehead. “You might wanna go get ready,” He tells them, they nod disappearing into their rooms.
“I should head out” Virgil checks his ever noisy phone, Damian takes his hand and places his other one in his mouth. “You okay Dee?” Virgil checks, the little boy yawns nodding.
“Sleepy” He responds simply, his thumbs getting quite clean. Virgil shakes his head playfully waving one final goodbye to Patton as he leaves. “Bye-bye uncle Pat” Damian waves, a slobbery hand Patton's final image.
Soon after he's finished with his food, Patton cleans up once more before taking his own advice. Choosing a more risky option for attire, risky meaning its much more Patton than it had been in a month. A light pastel shirt, a flowered patterned jacket, and dark pants. He smiles tightening his tie around his throat. Patting himself down, checking it out in the reflection. So safe he feels in his house now, his children laughing in earshot as he prepares for any usual day.
“Done!” The twins emerge showing off their own outfits. Patton gasps grinning as he claps excitedly.
“Absolutely marvelous!” He cries with an accent, they laugh taking his hands. Somehow after a few minutes, Patton finds himself in the driveway strapping the twins in for a ride. They play across their seats creating stories. “All good?” Patton asks Remus, he looks away his gleam washing away. “What's up crabcake?” Patton strokes his cheek gently, Remus goes to say something but decides against it. Shaking his head is final.
With a new doubt planted in Patton, he sets off on the road, assuring both his children he loves them dearly as the ride continues.
~~~
“Oh god, you really shouldn't have” Patton mumbles, his face dusted a deep red. Roman bobs grinning wide. Patton closes the door behind as his eyes gaze across his office, balloons, streamers and music blast through. “WHats the occasion?” He jokes, setting his things down
“Happy birthday padre!” Roman cheers, Patton laughs rolling his eyes playfully. Roman opens his arms asking for a hug, Patton allows him a tight hug maybe lingered. “I have a cake coming later, and presents of course!” Roman lists, almost as if a schedule had been made
“Oh, wonderful” Patton comments sweetly. Roman pouts slumping his shoulders. “Oh, no Roman I adore this I promise!” He assures, taking Roman's hands as he marvels at the room. “I'm just....a little out of it Ro”
“Well, then let's get you into it!” Roman exclaims, dancing in time to the music. Patton laughs, his voice carries through the room. “Come on” Roman begs, Patton starts slow, a simple sway before suddenly the pair are at their own private disco. The music catches them as they twirl around the room.
“Pardon?” They stop, Roman, shutting off the music as Patton's face increases fast a bright red. Logan stands cautious in the doorway eyeing the room. Patton rubs his forehead, clutching his palms soon after digging. Logan watches the movement and rushes his words. “Patton, may I speak to you for a moment?” He extends a hand hoping that will allow the lawyer something else to take. Roman raises an eyebrow but sends the father forward. Patton takes Logan's hand, a soft twitch as they make their way into the hallway.
“Hi” He barely squeaks, the image of him dancing replaying in his mind. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in the corner and hide for eternity. Luckily a distraction would work, as Logan goes to speak Patton's phone beats him to it. “Patton Hart” He tires “Oh! Hey mom…” Logan's face morphs, his head cocks becoming alert. “Dinner? With you, dad and…” He sighs, pursing frustrated lips “Liam” He clicks his tongue. Logan takes the phone making sure Patton remains unscathed, pressing it to his own ear.
“Hello Gloria, unfortunately, Patton has plans tonight” Logan explains, Patton stifles a questionable laugh. “Oh I know, what a shame” he rolls his eyes, the most monotone voice he could conjure. “Goodbye!” He shuts the phone, returning it safely to Patton. Folding it softly in his hands, keeping a gentle hold.
“Plans?” he ponders, a smirk appearing. Logan licks his lips, nodding. “Do I get to know more or…?” Patton questions, Logan twirls his fingers in Patton's shaking his head. He leans in a soft kiss on Patton's cheek.
“Happy birthday Patton” He gives a final squeeze before retreating to his own office. A flushed Patton stands outside his door, hoping someone might catch him should he fall. A clearing of his throat, a quick adjustment to his glasses and he returns his posture.
“You were listening weren't you?” He asks a knowing Roman as he steps into the party. A giddy Roman sits nodding.
“Obviously” He waves it off, Patton sighs through a smirk. “So what does this mean?”
“Roman-” Patton tries
“Are you guys together?” Roman inquires, tapping excitedly
“Roman!”
“What does this mean for you and the twins?” He goes further
“Roman!” Patton interjects finally, his eyes wide
“None of those are answers” Roman notes, they laugh softly. “Come on Pat...tell me!” Roman pleads, a mocking pout as he leans across the desk.
“I don't know, something...happened at the party but...we haven't really discussed it since” Patton admits, tracing the nape of necks, careful sweat flows. Roman pokes him and so Patton recounts the tale of the confusing evening Patton had during the holiday party. Keeping only a few things and words to himself. “And I really haven't seen or talked to him much since then” Patton finishes, a worrying pace as his feet do their own dance.
“Oh my god...Farkles a romantic” Roman gasps, his fingers drumming with swirling ideas. “He actually said that? Nobody says that!” Roman would know, indulging himself in romance and love as much as he can. “Oh my god…” Disbelief oozes from the judge
“Roman?” Patton raises his brows, the judge meets his eyes.
“Do you think he looked it up?” Roman snickers, a playful nudge is registered. “I'm kidding, but he actually said that? Like he said the words ‘I want a fairytale?’” Roman tries his hardest not to laugh.
“Don't be mean, it was sweet…” Patton dazes away, remembering the soft sparkle of curiosity Logan emitted. An excitement as he tries something new, ready to document the outcome. Roman backs off, noticing a look he hadn't seen on Patton in awhile. Not since Liam, before everything, there was a time he did love Liam. And that same look graced his face. “What?” Patton snaps in front of Roman's face.
“You are happy, like actually genuinely happy,” Roman tells him, Patton fans his slight blush. “I hope it's what you want it to be” Roman stands, as the hour beckons him.
“Me too” Patton whispers “Bye Ro, thanks for...all of this” He gestures around the room. Roman gives him a quick squeeze on the shoulder.
“Always Pat” He promises “Happy birthday” And soon enough he's gone. Leaving Patton to his own devices, the room should feel empty but for once it bursts as Patton's thoughts run wild with possibility. His cheek still burning with the fading touch of Logan's lips against him, a connection he longed for more of. What a day! He chuckles to himself, giving himself another brief pause to simply be. Ignoring the incoming birthday messages because only one notification matters to him, Logans.
“Happy birthday!” Remy and Emile know no bounds as they bust through the door, laughing with a giggling Thomas in their arms. Patton places his buzzing phone on the table to greet them, an infinite smile as Thomas is secured in his arms.
Roman was right
He was happy
~~~
“Hey Logan, you busy?” Roman knocks, the lawyer shakes his head ushering the judge in. Roman takes a confident seat, sinking his back into the chairs he felt all day.
“Not at the moment, what may I do for you?” Logan wonders still reviewing the files across his desk, checking through the papers he listens to a snickering Roman, his mind somewhere else. “Roman?” Logan questions again
“Oh nothing” He sighs, tapping gently on the wood, a clicky echo through the room. “I just...wanna hold a hand” He admits wistfully, Logan hums used to his antics simply nods. “I wanna be with someone, I wanna get lost...in someone's eyes” He continues a smirk, leaning into Logan blinks finally adjusting his papers.
“Pardon?” Logan squeaks, keeping his demeanor stable as Roman stifles his laughter. “S-sounds like a fairytale” He coughs, loosening his tie, had the room become hot?
“Then goddamnit Logan, I want a fairytale!” Roman can't believe how perfectly it had been set up. He bursts laughing, Logan groans burying his head into his arms. “I should fight for my happily ever after” He deems
“Patton told you?” Logan guesses from his hidden cove. Roman nods as his hearty cheers fill the room, full light of joy. Logans not sure what to do except exhaling sharply, feeling as though his nose would fall off.
“How drunk were you?” Roman barely laughs, wiping away the tears from his fit. Logan clutches the table organizing the files, a frustrated mumble as he does so. He stuffs away a small box, wrapped neatly, into his drawer.
“I had approximately one drink” He remembers, his fingers itching desperate for Patton's hold in his. “Its stupid, I understand” He rubs his forehead, Roman clicks his tongue shaking his head.
“No, its romantic Lo, like nobody says that stuff in real life but uh...romantic” Roman smiles “So, birthday plans?” Roman leans forward, placing his intrigue in his hands, a sweet smile. Logan feels his face arise in a lovely shade of red, he lets out a shaky laugh feeling his mind drift away. His hands interlaced carefully with Patton's as they walk through the chilly remains of January, the twins rushing ahead of them in laughter. Entrapped in their own frolics and games as Patton watches with love pouring from his beautiful eyes. Logan tightens his hold, a sweet kiss to Patton's forehead as they make their way to…
”Dinner” He whispers, the room opens once more. “A nice walk, and home” He recites simply because that's what Patton needed. Something simple and loving, a way to show his affection through slow means. Nothing complicated, no pressure, and a celebration.
“Sounds wonderful” Roman compliments, he snaps his fingers “You know the twins are staying with Virge right? Remy and Emile are taking them to dinner” Roman reminds, Logan's stomach tugs not sure which feeling to settle on. Excited for this intimate moment the lawyers will share together, but disappointed, he was...looking forward to seeing the twins. He shakes his head nodding.
“Well, I suppose it's just the two of us” He takes his glasses, wiping the glass with a cleaner on his desk. A giddy rush passes through him, Roman watches the man's face switch through, as if he held his own remote.
“Hey, do you love Patton?” Roman lets out, shrugging as he leans comfortably. Logan coughs on his dry throat, frantically grasping for water.
“I-” His eyes widen, the typical curiosity that pools them replaced with fear of what the future deemed. Roman chuckles running a soft hand through his hair. “I like Patton, and I lo-” He steps delicately on the floor, pacing in position. “I don't know!” He stands quickly
“Logan, I was kidding, take it easy, look you don't have to…” He watches the fearful man “Know that right now but it has to be headed that way dude. He has two kids, you both have full-time jobs and you're headed towards commitment. I love you dude but you're way past casual dating.” Roman recites, dusting off his robes “You have to be in this for the long ride-” Logan stops him
“I know Roman, I made it clear that I was serious about this. I'm not going to walk away. I feel like I'm repeating myself. I love Patton's kids, and I care, so much, about Patton.” Logan assures, Roman bites his lower lips smirking. “Why is this anyone's business but ours?” Logan pleads, Roman chuckles
“You're kidding right?” He checks, Logan remains, sighing deeply. “Ok we love you, but you're not Logan Tolentino the lawyer anymore. You're not Patton's friend anymore, you're more than that. Which is an amazing thing to be, but-”
“I'm not Liam.” Logan argues, he scoffs angrily. “Why does everyone keep implying that?”
“No one has ever actually said that, but you keep making the connection” Roman notes “For a reason, you're not Liam but if there is even the slight chance?” Roman cocks his head “Just make sure you're in this, because I swear to god, if Patton gets hurt one more time...”
“I know” Logan agrees.
“Just focus on dinner for now ok?” Roman goes around the desk, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “You don't have to worry about the twins, about Liam or his parents about whether you love Patton or not. Just uh...give him a nice time, ok?” Roman asks
Do I love Patton?
Does he love me?
Am I Liam…?
Logans brain races fast, his mind overwhelmed. Flashing pictures and memories flow, he feels dizzy as he sits once more. Burying his head in the desk, what was wrong with him? He longed for when none of this concerned him. For when he saw the twins and Patton and kept his infatuation away, locked in a box to rot. Whether he loved Patton or not was consuming his mind every waking moment, each step he took burning with hot desire.
Do you love Patton?
“I think I do”
~~~
“Be good for me ok?” Patton kneels holding his twins close, they smile exhausted from their journey of a day but conjure up a nod. After sweet farewell kisses, he watches his friend take their arms waving goodbye to Patton. He will never get used to it, that sharp pain as Patton's hold over his life drifts away. It goes away after a moment but that transition hurts.
“Patton, are you alright?” Logan wonders, Patton turns his mind clears as his eyes fall upon the figure. His eyes glisten reflecting the stars above. “Patton?”
“You look...you always just look…” Patton marvels, a soft smile spreads across his face. “Nice, you look so nice” He decides, feeling the overuse of ‘perfect’ in the past few months. Logan stifles his smile, he extends his hand through the chilly air, Patton takes it feeling his favorite spark. Logan pulls him close, walking them side by side.
“Patton you look stunning” Logan whispers through his frosty breath. Patton averts his gaze towards the moon, hoping his blush isn't as evident. Logan fiddles sweetly with Patton's fingers in his own, Patton wishes for nothing more than to stay connected.
“So! What's the evening plan?” Patton inquires, leaning into Logan's coat much to the lawyer's excitement.
“A simple dinner, a nice walk and then home” Logan lists, Patton hums delighted at the sound of something so perfect. “Does that sound enjoyable?” Logan checks, Patton lifts their joined hands kissing Logans softly.
“It sounds absolutely perfect” He assures yawning. The walk continues until they reach the restaurant, Patton puts distance between him and logan keeping their hands together, he stares through the window. “Shall we?” He asks, Logan purses his lips he tugs gently at Patton's hand bringing him in. He places his under Patton jaw kissing him. A quick shock but Patton leans into it feeling safe wrapped in his arms. His eyes remain closed even as Logan pulls away, he opens them once more grounding himself.
“We shall” Logan leads him in, allowing the host to seat the pair at their reserved table. Taking their coats, they sit, Logan helps Patton into his chair before taking his own place. Patton smiles as he browses the menu, his favorite routine as they meet across the table, fingers interlaced. “Anything look good?” Logan questions, looking through his own menu.
“Mmm, water” He hums, Logan chuckles. “Maybe a non-alcoholic mojito?” He checks, Logan nods skimming the wine menu. Quickly the night moves on, a nice flow as they order their drinks than their main courses. “Oh, my...delicious Lo” Patton swallows a delectable bite.
“I'm glad, I was wary about the vegetarian option” Logan admits, Pattons smile falters a shaky smile. Patton found it silly how much that simple thought meant. When picking a place, Logan took into consideration Patton.
Logan...took into consideration...Patton
Me?
“Patton?” Logan tilts his head, squeezing the man's hand. “Everything alright?” Patton nods finishing his food, swallowing his overwhelming thoughts with water. Patton kisses Logan's hand, grateful for simply the entire night.
“The twins want you to join us at Disneyworld'' Patton adds, Logan smirks twirling his spaghetti. “They also want you to join us for snuggle Sunday” He raises a brow, a coy sweetness. Logan chuckles biting his lower lip.
“I would not mind both of those” Logan admits, Patton grins thanking the waitress as she clears their plates. “Which reminds me, I have a gift- er gifts for you” Patton sighs, feeling his cheeks flush. “Don't, I know what you're thinking and just...don't” Patton leans in
“You shouldn't have” Patton rushes, Logan slams his hand delicately laughing.
“I should and did so…” Logan swishes his lips “Deal with it” He snarks, Patton giggles rolling his playful eyes. “Ok, this if for, you and the twins…” He hands Patton an envelope watching as a cautious look quickly turns to shock. A small gasp as tears threatens his already weak eyes.
“Logan…” He can't find the words, they dance around but nothing amounts to the absolute thankfulness he feels. “I can't accept this, you know that right?” Logan groans, Patton wipes away the soft tears.
“You can and will, plus seeing as I'm coming with you…” Logan trails off, Patton shakes his head returning the envelope. “Think it over ok?” Logan requests, Patton sighs but nods knowing he's in no state of mind to argue. “Thank you, I have one more item for you” He reaches into his coat pulling out a small box, one he had spent hours gently piecing together. The wrapping a sweet baby blue with fragrant flowers decorating them.
“You spoil me” Patton giggles taking it, opening the paper carefully and neatly.
“Not nearly enough” Logan mutters to himself, Patton finds a deep box under it and opens it. A sweet gasp as he removes the item from its home. A navy blue tie is shown, beautiful patterns are etched through it in white and pastel colors.
“Oh, it's...beautiful Lo…” Patton looks at it, an absolute glimmer in his eyes. After dessert, maybe too many thanks from Patton, the pair retreat back outside. The warmth from each other circling them gently as they walk. They decide to go off their path, Logan leads Patton by the waterside. Humming softly Patton keeps himself quiet as to listen to the wonderful melody.
“You're quiet” Logan notes after a brief pause, Patton chuckles, his breath appearing in the starry night a moment later.
“Oh do keep going, you sound lovely” Patton requests, Logan stops them under the opening of the stars. He leans in kissing Patton carefully, cupping his cheeks as he does so. Patton meets Logan's hands pulling apart in a calm smile.
“Pat, look” Logan gleams watching the stars above him “Oh the sky..” Patton purses his lips, he takes Logan's cheek, kissing him softly. Logan melted into it, fiddling ever so delicately with Patton's hands in his own. “The stars Patton…” Logan wants to take one in his hand, play around with it, study every sparkle and feeble thing till he exhausted its draining light. Patton smiles.
“You're my star” He whispers gently watching as Logan continues marveling at the starlights. “Happy birthday me” He shines with pure joy, broken ever so quickly by his phone. “One-moment starlight” He excuses himself, neither phased by the nickname poured of affection, lingering on Logan's hands for a second.
“Patton Hart” He greets, a state of euphoria.
“Tick tock mister Hart, you don't have much longer” Why must the line go dead?
#objection au#logicality#prinxiety#remile#platonic demus#logan sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#remy sanders#emile picani#remus sanders#deceit sanders#ts valerie#ts joan#ts talyn#thomas sanders#sanders sides#youtube#writing#my writing#ao3#archive of our own#oc's#original character
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The swim
Summary: a sleepwaking event gets Reader to the lands of Hell.
Warnings: Oh, God where to start? Rape, scary stuff, blood, knife-play, anal sex, oral sex (male-receiving), life-threats, mentions of murder, degradation, JUST please don´t read if you are triggered easily, please don´t. Stay safe.
Notes: Pennywise is not dressed as the clown (I couldn´t do it lol) and he doesn´t modify his face, he looks like the pic above.
Words: 3k
Plip plop, plip plop. The drops from the non-well turned off tap of the bathroom sink have you rolling from side to side on bed. The heat of summer time doesn´t help either, and despite the rain outside that´s supposed to bring some cooler temperature, sheets are wrinkled like a ball at your feet while your nightgown absorbs the slight sweat of your body. But you are, in a way, asleep; it´s just that it´s not as deep as you´d like to rest but not fully awaken to be conscious of your annoying environment.
- Y/N – a warm whisper calls from the distance. Your feet reach the floor and then your legs do the rest of the work to make your sleepwalking being to stand up – Wouldn´t it be nice to swim, Y/N?
You make your way to the bathroom, its squeaking door suffocating the words. Like if you have some kind of corporal memory or recognition of the familiar space, your hands go for the tap to turn it off. No more drops. You turn to the exit again.
- Why don´t you come swim with me?
Still barefoot, you walk to the frontal door and get out of the house, your shoulders now being hit by the rain due to the non protective thin straps of your nightgown which in a second gets completely wet and wasted. It´s a good thing that the heat of the pavement has been washed off or otherwise you would wake up with severe burnings on your soles.
- Little, little Y/N… - the voice chants like a melody – Come swim with me.
A small paper boat touches your toes and as a survivor of the rain, it continues the same path your walk in front of you like a guide to the drain. Stopping in the middle of the empty street, you lean down to face the dark mouth where the boat and some of the water get drowned. Darkness.
A second later, a pair of white painted hands appears in the shadows, fortunately or not, not enough to scare you and wake you up.
- Is this yours? – the fingers show you the boat like a magic trick – If you get closer I can show you more. Come, little Y/N, so you can swim with me. Don´t worry, we all float here.
Curiosity makes you crawl to the dark, half of your body entering the drain as the white hands grab your torso to help you slide in completely. Now you are being hold by the arms of something. Or someone. And carried to the deepest lands of hell.
--
- Wake up, wake up – a high pitched tone of voice echoes around the space. You blink a few times and move your head to the side, your cheek touching a moist bland surface. Mud?
-What…? Where am I?
Once you sit down, you are able to look around. The place seems like a grey walled room, with rubble everywhere and a water level that you know could reach your ankles if you stand up.
- Oh, God no. Hello? Hello?!
- Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb
but the lamb was a bit dumb
and it just went down...
Now the lamb may better run, better run, better run
before it gets to squirm and cry
BECAUSE OF THE CLOWN.
With widened horrified pupils, you watch the dancing silhouette coming out from the shadows and turn into a disturbing man´s face covered with a messy white and red make-up that is supposed to imitate the shape you could find in a circus clown but as if it´s been attacked by the rain. Two honey yellow eyes completely out of focus and shining under the black hair that falls a bit on the white-stained forehead.
- Shall I sing again?
Panting, you crawl backwards till finally you reach a wall and your terrified brain understands that you have to stand up, which you rapidly do and it allows you to run. Looking everywhere, you spot a passage and went straight to it, the water causing you to slow your movements as scared squeaking rats are heard with every four or five footsteps you make. But soon you reach a bifurcation and the maniac laughs behind you force you to make a decision.
Left.
You only walk half way the new corridor till the poor light becomes drown in the dark again and you are not longer able to watch backwards. Panicked, your hands grope the dirty wall to attempt to continue moving forwards but you don´t have a single idea of where you are. While your agitated sobs fill the space, a sudden flash of lightning strikes in front of you and clearly shows three old wooden doors with different bloody letters carved on them.
Not scary at all // Scary // Very scary.
- I´m coming to you…! It´s time to float…!
With a sweaty hand, you pull the handle from the first door. A tiny little white sheep appears in front of you emanating a sweet bleat.
- What? – but you don´t have time to ask. You make a step forwards determined to enter the room and at the same second, the animal transforms into a humane-shaped wolf with such a loud roaring that you slam the door close screaming. The second one is no better option. An enormous red balloon, almost like the size of a piñata, bursts in front of you, revealing a zombie-like woman that could have attacked you if you hadn´t closed the door as terrified as you did with the first one.
- Float, float, float – the crazy man keeps taunting you each time nearer and nearer.
You open the last door with a yell, ready to meet whatever monster it has inside but, to your surprise, you find a blonde man seated on the floor with tape over his mouth. You are about to close it, thinking the same thing with the sheep would happen now but the man starts making noises through his nose sounding like he needs help and soon you realize that his arms are tied behind his back as he struggles to get free.
- Oh, okay, okay… - you try to shush him as you take off the tape.
- Please, please untie me – he begs with desperate light blue eyes.
- I can´t! – you shout at him.
- Please, please, I won´t hurt you!
Hesitant and trembling, you touch one of his arms and immediately go backwards, scared of a brutal reaction. But he keeps struggling to free his arms so you take a deep breath and finally help him get rid of the ropes.
- Thank you – he says standing up.
- Who are you? What´s that?
- I don´t know. He is crazy. I´m Michael.
- Y/N
-I can hear you…! – the man keeps chanting now at the bifurcation.
You turn around to watch the corridor knowing he will appear in it in a second.
- We have to get out of here –you say, almost breathless.
- Yes, you have – a demonic voice sounds behind you and makes you turn just to find the angelic man transformed into what seems the face of the Devil, his turquoise iris have shrunken around the pupils, leaving them as two big black balls from where blue and purple veins are born like thin lines that cover his entire face.
- No… no! – you turn around again and start running but soon you are stopped by the clown man in front of you. No point in going backwards. Michael is cutting your only exit way.
- Dumber little lamb than I thought. She really believed that – the clown laughs.
- Please… who are you? What are you? What do you want? – you sob, looking at the hunters at both of your sides.
- The question here is what we are going to do with you. You are our guest, sweetie. Maybe, just maybe, if you are good, you won´t end up like the others.
- Others? What others? – and as soon as you ask that, you look down at your feet touching something solid. A skull passes by floating.
- We all float here.
Despite the scream that burns your lungs, Michael lifts your body and you start kicking the air while the two of them carry you to the grey place again. Once there, the blonde man throws you to the ground, but unluckily this time, it´s a part with concrete floor and you hiss in pain.
- Looks like we are gonna have a trouble-maker one. No time for that – the other man says and takes out a knife from his pocket.
- Wait, Pennywise – Michael stops him pushing his chest – I think she has changed her mind about being a bratty slut. Isn´t that right, sweetheart?
You nod eagerly, still trying to crawl backwards but again you reach a wall. The two men (or demons) get down on your level and Michael holds both of your arms behind your back while Pennywise swings the knife mockingly in the air at you.
-Easy now – Michael whispers in your ear hearing your pants.
The clown puts the knife under one of your straps as you watch the sharp edge close to your neck and with one pull, it´s undone. He does the same with your other one to then grab a hold of the bottom of your nightgown to cut it open in half, revealing your naked body underneath it.
- Please…, please don´t hurt me – you say in a miserable plead but the sharp point of the knife scratches slightly your stomach at the enthusiastic gaze of Pennywise. Suddenly, you feel a light cut at the side of your waist – No, no… - and another cut on the other side. You start to squirm in vain against Michael´s grip but the clown goes to the beginning of your thigh and slides the knife all the way down to your knee earning a loud pained scream from you – PLEASE STOP! - It´s then when you feel the mouth of the blonde guy suctioning the exposed skin of your neck, delighted at your suffering. Pennywise goes again for your other thigh causing you to yell in horror one more time – PLEASE DON´T! PLEASE STOP! – He is about to make a cut under your belly button but Michael does a sign for him to stop.
- You are gonna be a good little girl, aren´t you?
- Please stop – you whisper in response at Michael.
- AREN´T YOU? – Michael insists with a warning tone that freezes you.
- Yes – you answer and gulp.
- Good, turn around.
He releases your arms and you do as you are told. Michael takes his cock out of his trousers and grabs your neck to bring you closer to his face.
- If you bite me, you are dead. Do you understand?
- I do – you bite your lip as the tears fall down your cheeks.
- Now, now, don´t be so sad, darling – he says wiping them off with his forearm – This should be a treat. Good girls know how to be grateful.
- Thank y… - but before you can finish your faked gratitude, Michael pushes your head down to bury his cock in your throat, a loud gag echoing along the space. Your palms push his thighs uselessly trying to take it out but of course he is stronger and it´s not after he sees how your stomach jumps in a threatening puke that he lets you cough and take a deep breath. Back again on his cock.
Pennywise is sharing the same sadism, playing with knife that dances along your skin, enjoying your scared muffled sobs which reverberate against Michael´s skin and makes him groan in pleasure. Suddenly, you feel a hard spank against your bare ass and the blonde man pulls your head up, saliva falling from your mouth, connected to his thick shaft.
- That wasn´t teeth that I felt, was it?
- No, no – you hurry to reply, petrified. He slaps your face
- Focus.
He pushes you down again and moves your head up and down like a personal toy with no regards to your choking or your lack of oxygen every time he stays still buried past your uvula.
Pennywise continue smacking your cheeks, red handprints with remains of white make up appear on them very soon at his brutal strength. And although you wish this torture to end, you don´t have a single idea yet of what they can be up to.
-What a pretty little lamb you are after all – you hear the clown saying as he slides two fingers along your slit – But she is dry as a complete waist.
-Poor baby – Michael taunts you and scratches lightly your spine sending a shiver down it while he keeps ravaging your mouth.
- We are gonna have to fix that – Pennywise collects some of the blood that’s dripping down your leg on his fingertips and pushes inside your exposed hole; the moment he does so, you tense up but he doesn´t seem to care since he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth.
You push Michael´s thighs with more strength and you are able to let his dick out but before you can beg, he brings his palm to your neck, squeezing hard.
- Don´t worry. He knows what he is doing. And your body does too. Want it or not, but it´ll happen – and he is right because soon the clown gathers enough wetness to consider your pussy proper to enjoy. Pennywise occupies no time in entering you, a suffocated gasp leaves your mouth. And while you feel the stretching in your walls, Michael releases just a little bit the pressure on your windpipe for you to stay alive and spits on your tongue – Keep that mouth open. The blonde man stands up for you to get on all fours and fucks your throat again, this time faster, but stops to take his cock out, watching how your mouth close unconsciously - I said open! – another slap to your face and he goes right back in, destroying your throat for a few seconds and once again moving out of your lips, this time you resist the urge to close them – Good girl – he says and continues the sequence for his amusement.
After a few more thrusts, Pennywise sinks his nails on the flesh of your hips, holding himself back to not cum and causing you to scream. He pulls out and Michael does the same, moving also to the side while his fingers travel dangerously along your back and end in a loud smack to one of your buttocks.
- What a nice little thing we have here – he says licking his lips and you shudder.
Pennywise moves to the side to allow him space and Michael covers his fingers in saliva, pushing the index past your asshole. Aware of what he plans on doing with you, you try to crawl away but he grabs you with a painful fist on your hair to stop your silly movements. When the middle finger is inside too, your legs shake weak but your mind is fully conscious and unable to escape their desires. Michael stretches your rectum enough to create space for his dick but not enough to make it easier to you. Once the tip of his spit-covered cock gets inside, you start whining in pain and the dark-haired man leans down in front of you to move the knife close to your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut but with a savage pull to your hair from Michael, you are forced to open them again.
The member moves inside of you like you don´t have any pain receptors at all, going deep inside till it´s completely buried in your ass and coming back for his pelvis to swing and slam right back into you.
- Ah, the slut is so fucking tight in here – Michael says hissing to Pennywise, who is entirely focused on keeping you still with the sharp lethal threat against your skin, and at the man´s comment, he starts jerking in front of your sobbing puffy face – If we let her live, maybe you can enjoy this too tomorrow. What do you think, sweetheart? Do you deserve to live? Have you been a good whore?
- Please – you plead in a whisper, too scare to say anything.
- I can´t hear you – Michael insists.
- Yes, please, please don´t kill me! – you beg, Michael´s thickness filling you so much that you think you are going to burst.
- Then show us how good of a slut you are. Beg for our cum.
- Please, please, I want your cum.
- Say it fucking louder – Pennywise demands pressing the edge hurtfully against your skin.
- Please I want your cum, please!
The clown groans and grabs your jaw with thumbs that sink in your cheeks and the moment your mouth is open, you feel his warm liquid on your tongue. After swallowing it, Michael cums too inside your ass holding your hips with a bruising grip to keep you still right where he wants you till the last drop is emptied. Once he pulls out, he joins Pennywise who is still holding the knife against your jugular. You are crying and worn out like a mess, having being feasted by these two monsters like you were the last meal they could have and yet you don´t know if you are going to survive the night.
- Please…, I´ve done everything you wanted. Please let me go.
- Let you go? – Michael mocks you – Oh, sweetheart, that won´t be a possibility. But, our nature is so generous that we are not going to kill you. Get some rest. You´ll need it for tomorrow.
Pennywise releases your neck, putting the weapon back into his pocket and taking out the wrinkled paper boat.
- Smile a little, would you? You´ll have to be entertaining here slut or we are gonna get bored. Here, why don´t you start practicing with this? – he puts the boat on top of your head as a hat and slaps your face twice with a fake “cheering you up” motion – We´ll make you float again sooner than you expect.
#michael langdon#michael langdon smut#bill skarsgard#bill skarsgård x reader#michael langdon x reader#bill skarsgard smut#bill skarsgård fanfiction#pennywise#it#pennywise smut
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What have we done?
Pain. Thats all that Peter Parker felt when the arow in his hip exploded along with the traitors only escape out of the airport. He let out a loud scream as the AI in his new suit starts to show alarms at where he was hurt.
"KID!!"
Peter pulled up his mask and coughed up blood as he heard the heavy and light foot steps growing near. "You shouldn't have been in this fight you stupid spider!" He heard Clint yell as Natasha suddenly appeared in his line of vision.
Looking around he sees Mr. Starks tear stained face, Captain Americas shocked look, Buckys fear filled one, Wandas scared, sick face and then he saw Clint. The man went pale when he saw who Spider-Man was. "P-Pete...?" He whispers.
War Machine, Vision and T'Challa rush over to the scene. Vision immediately removes his cape and presses down on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. The scream that was ripped from the boy finally made Clint react.
The man ran over with tears in his eyes, pulling something out of his quiver but Tony knocked him back with a single punch. Landing backwards his hand flys out of his quiver and a white teddy bear with patch work on it suddenly flys out of his hand and lands near T'Challas foot.
The king carefully picked it up as Natasha begged the dying boy to stay awake. Getting onto his knees he gently holds the silently crying boys hand in his own. Putting the bear next to his head he saw how the boys frightened face became soft and fearless as if the plush toy took it all away.
"No, no, no, Peter! Peter stay with us baby. Please, please, please, please. I'm so sorry. Oh god this is all my fault. Please, please stay with me." Natasha begged him. "I-I'll get whatever you want, just please don't die."
Peters eyes looked towards Natasha as Tony sat behind him and put his head on his legs. "Petey....petey look at me kiddo..."
Peter looked up at Stark with dull eyes. "I'm so sorry. I promise I'll take care of May. I promise." He whispers as tears rolled down his cheeks. With shaky hands he gently rubs some blood off of the boys chin. "Even if it was only a short time...you were one of the best Avengers I have ever known. Now....get some rest. It's gonna be a long trip home."
"Th-Thank you...T-Tony...tell...May...love..d..he r..." The boys soft, blood gurgled voice whispers before his eyes slid shut and his chest stopped moving.
Peters head fell limp as Natasha screamed in agony at the sight. Sobbing she buries her face in Peters chest, praying to hear a heart beat but....there was nothing.
The sky turned gray as the group of Avengers begun to sob and cry for the young teen. Rhodey saluted him as Tonys suit came off and he used his suits coat to cover his face with. At least he can have a little respect for the dead.
--------------------------------------------------
Natasha stares at her Widow Bite as the last three hours played in her head. She just tried to hit somebody above Peter...maybe it was Wanda...? She couldn't remember at the moment but she remember that it had hit Peter as soon as the arrow did.
She knew Clint had put a controlled explosion on the arrows so it should have just been like getting hit by those little popper firecrackers but due to the electricity from the bite it must've messed with the internals and caused it to explode like a grenade.
She grit her teeth and threw the weapon away from her with a loud sob. Curling up she grips at a small chain around her neck and pulls it out of her shirt. Staring at the locket she opens it to see a very old picture of a tiny, itty bitty Peter Parker and herself from the day he was born.
Sniffling she buries her face in her knees. "Peter...I'm so sorry..." She sobs out.
--------------------------------------------------
Clint hangs his head as he walks into the medical bay with cuffs on his hands, shackles around his ankles and tears in his eyes. He had killed Peter Parker. He killed his little nephew....
Going up to the lone bed in the center of the room he holds the pale, cold hand before breaking down. Sobbing he falls to his knees. He remembers. He remembers the first day he ever meet Peter...
-
Clint held Natashas hand as they listened to the screaming coming from the helicarriers medical bay. He wanted to take out his hearing aids but Natasha firmly stated that if he had to hear it then so did he.
Covering his ears he yelps when Natasha hit his shoulder. A second later a loud, shrill cry broke the air. Both spies were up in an instant as Fury, Hill and Coulson ran over holding some food and blue gift bags.
The doors opened and a tired looking man with brown hair and a lab coat came out with the biggest grin anyone had ever seen. "It's a boy!" He says making the group cheer and pat his shoulder.
Clint peeked into the room to see an exhausted brown haired woman he knew all to well but now she was holding somebody he didn't know that he really, really wanted to meet. "Clint? Do you wanna go in and see Peter?" The man asks with a smile.
"Peter? That's his name? Yeah! Can I?" Clint asks quickly, wanting to just go in.
The man chuckles and moves for Clint to come in. The man instantly flew over and looked at the itty bitty little thing in the womans arms. He hesitantly reached out for the baby, not to take it but to poke it. The woman chuckles softly.
"Clint he's not going to bite you. He has no teeth." The woman says with a soft smile.
"S-Sorry Mary." He spoke in a soft voice as he gently took the baby into his arms. Kissing the top of his head he held him as gently as he could. "He's so tiny. Almost like a kitten."
Mary smiles softly at the sight. "All babies are tiny Clint." She says in a exhausted voice. "Richard? You can let the others in my love."
A moment later the baby was gently taken into Furys arms as Richard took some photos. Clint smiles as he looks at the little baby now in Natashas arms. A gentle hand on his arm made him look at Mary with a soft smile.
"Clint I need you to promise me something. We have a very dangerous job here. If anything were to ever happen to us I want you to promise me that you'll protect, love and care for Peter in our absence. Please.." Mary whispers.
Clint looks at the baby who was now being stolen by Coulson and chuckles. He nods and kisses Marys hand. "I promise you Mary. I will always protect your boy. No matter what."
-
Sobbing he looks at the bear on the dead boys chest. He had given that to Peter as a sort of theaphy bear after what had happened with his parents. It's almost been four years since their deaths and Peter had never gotten over it fully. They had died on the helicarrier during Lokis attack but...Peter had also been there. He had seen it all.
Clint didn't know how long he sat there but a hand on his shoulder made him look up to notice that the room was fairly darker meaning it was now night time. Hiccuping he stands and lets the Iron Man suit take him to his cell.
Sitting on his cot he looks up at the poster that Stark had put up on his wall. He didn't know how he did it but he did. The poster was a blown up photo of Peter and Clint soaking wet when the boy was twelve years old and they had his first barbeque. He remembered the water balloons that flew through the air that day.
Tears fell down his cheeks as he looked at the poster of the smiling boy.
"What have I done...?" Clint whispers.
--------------------------------------------------
Tony looked up at the door of the Parker apartment. He wasn't ready for this...but he had to be strong. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder as he knocked on the door.
The lady who answered smiled brightly. "Hey! Have you come to bring my little trouble maker home?" May Parker asks with a smile.
"May....you have to sit down." Tony states firmly.
May instantly frowns and invites them in as she sat down. "Ok...now whats going on? Wheres Peter? Is he ok?" She questions.
Tony takes a torn up Spider-Man suit out of a bag in his hand as Rhodey pulled out a flag with the Avengers symbol on it from his own.
"As stated in the Avengers code...Stark Industries will take care of the funeral, anything they leave behind goes to next of kin and if there is no next of kin then it goes into the museum. Peter Parker aka Spider-Man leaves behind his Spider suits, a stuffed bear, a backpack, pajamas, cellphone, shoes, one belt and a bracelet that was found in his backpack that had been empty except for an inhaler and medication." Tony starts.
May looks up at Tony with tears in her eyes. She shakes her head as her hands flew up to her face. "I will take care of you, any bills you have and as his last wish was...." Tony has to take in a shaky breath before continuing. "His last words were tell Aunt May I love her."
May screamed out in agony as her heart tore into pieces. Sobbing into her hands she hears Tonys breathing become irregular. "I-I'm so sorry May...I'm so sorry." He sobs out. "H-He died from a exploding arrow in his gut that had been activated from a charge from a-a widow bite..."
May sobbed louder and harder as she realised who killed her baby. Curling up she sobs into her knees. Oh god...what am I gonna do...?
--------------------------------------------------
It's a rainy day when Peter Parker is put to rest in between his parents and his uncle. Everybody at the funeral cried and placed white lilies in front of his tombstone. May had tried to attack Natasha and Clint for being near the funeral for the boy they murdered.
But now....now it was just Tony, Vision, May, Logan, Ned, the super (ex) spies, Fury, Hill, Coulson and Charles Xavier. Logan pushed Charles up where the man carefully placed a white rose on the grave stone that was being protected from the rain.
"I wish we could have gotten together for another match of chess my dear boy. But I know you will always be by me through spirit." Charles whispers with tears in his eyes.
Moving the professor, Logan stepped up with a bottle of beer and a single white rose in hand. Placing it on the stone with the beer he whispers to it, making sure the others couldn't hear him.
"Come on bub....come outta there....please...please come out. Please come back to us....we all miss ya. We just want you back. I...I want ya back." Logan whispered as tears fell down his face. Standing he goes over to Xavier and holds his hand to try and calm himself.
Fury, Hill, Coulson, Natasha, Clint and May moved forward and gently placed six bundles of lilacs, hyacinth and gardenias down on the tombstone (three on each side). May turned into Furys arms and sobbed loudy.
Ned and Vision go next with orchids, green roses and pink chrysanthemums tied with a red and blue ribbon. Ned falls to his knees and sobs into his hands loudly. Tony watches them then looks at his bundle of red, blue and gold flowers that he had forgotten the names of.
Taking a breath he gently puts the flowers down. Looking up at the sky, Tony cursed from how unfair it was. Looking at the (ex) spies he watches the hope drain from their faces. "Finally realised that this wasn't a nightmare?" He growls out. Both of them flinch. "You caused this. This is all your fault and I hope your happy."
--------------------------------------------------
Three months later...
Tony sighs as he walks his way to Peters grave. He had barely known the kid but he had actually really, really started to like him. Happy gently put his hand on his shoulder as they walk. He almost forgot he was there.
Once at the grave he saw a little lump just laying there surrounded by flowers and a strange looking man in a cape. Rushing over he checked the mans pulse then looked at the little lump. Gently picking it up his breathing stopped.
It was a child, couldn't be more than five. Removing the blanket from around his head he flicks a beetle off of it before looking the child over. He had soft, milk chocolate curls on his head, chubby cheeks and a Iron Man T-Shirt peeking out of the blanket that was still wrapped around him.
The man next to him sat up. "I see you found Loki and I's gift." He says in a soft voice. He stretches before continuing. "This is Peter Parker, age six but he looks four, allergic to avocados and his favorite hero is Iron Man."
Tony looks at the man like he was crazy. "What? I had to come collect his soul after making his vesal. It was Lokis idea to make him allergic to avocados so don't blame me when he can't have guacamole." The man says as he stood.
"W-What the hell are you talking about?!" Tony yells.
"Oh right. My apologies. My name is Stephen Strange or Dr. Strange. I know I can trust you since I can just remove Peter from your life again so I will tell you this. I am a wizard and the holder of the time stone. I used it the other day to look into the future. I saw the suicides of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff along with yours. So I had to stop it. After gaining permission I went in search for Loki to help me make this boys body along with visiting Ned Leeds and Vision Stark for info on him. I visited a few others and I believe I have everything right. Now when he awakes you can take him home and raise him as your own." Strange states before suddenly disappearing through a red portal.
Tony and Happy look at each other. "What the fuck just happened?!" They yell until a soft whimper came from the blanket.
Tony looked down and watched as "Peter" rubbed his eyes with a big yawn. He tore his gaze away from the adorable child to a grave stone next to Ben Parker. He couldn't bring him to May anymore so...
"Daddy?" A little voice whispers.
Tony looked down into big chocolate brown eyes and watched the boy reach up to touch his hair. "Daddy has grays..." The boy giggles.
Tony smiles softly and kisses the childs head. "Because you scared the heck outta me. They just popped out." He chuckles.
Peter giggles when Happy sat next to them. "We bringing him home?" Happy asks softly.
"Of course." Tony states. "Call the others. My baby bot and I need ta go shoppin' for his new room."
Happy chuckles and nods. Helping him stand he leads his boss and the new Stark to the car. Hopefully they'll be able to raise the kid right.
--------------------------------------------------
Two days later....
"Oi! Let him go you two! He's doing his potty dance!" Tony yells at the two spies who were clutching Peter like a life line.
"He can go in his pamper." Clint says as he squeezes Peter and Natasha to his chest.
"I gotta poop!" Peter yells making a passing by Bucky choke on his coffee.
Clint and Natasha immediately let him go so he could run to the bathroom. "Make sure you close the door this time baby!" Tony calls out before wacking both spies on the head. "What the fuck are you even doing up here?! I told you he was off limits until I can make sure he doesn't remember his death!"
"Ow! Sorry! We....we just wanted to have our baby back." Clint whispers painfully.
"Well he's my son now so back off." Tony growls.
"Hey he's my runt too!" Logan yells out from the fridge.
"Mine too." Fury, Hill, Coulson, Xavier, Bucky, Steve, Happy and Pepper chime in...in unison. Creepy.
"M-Mine too." Bruce meekly calls out from Thors lap.
"Mine as well!" Thor yells out.
"Yo!" Scott, Rhodey and Sam call out.
Vision didn't speak up since Peter was already his brother. Tony groaned and shook his head. "Hey your Spanish right? So why can't he have a lot of names?" Natasha questions.
"I am Italian you racist plus thats to many! Peter Stark-Rogers-Lang- Wilson-Rhodes-Barnes-Fury-Hill-Coulson-Banner-Hogan-Potts-Odinson-Howlett-Xavier-Romanoff-Barton? Shit I'm outta breath..." Tony groans.
"You forgot Laufeyson. I did give birth to him after all." Loki says as he pours himself some wine.
"What?"
"Why else do you think Strange sought me out? I'm a man who can have a child. Do you want his egg shell? I had to birth him that way or else you would have had to wait an extra eight months." Loki states as he sips his wine.
"Ok...so...Peter Stark-Laufeyson-Rogers-Lang-Wilson-Rhodes-Barnes-Fury-Hill-Coulson-Banner-Hogan-Potts-Odinson-Howlett-Xavier-Romanoff-Barton...still to many." Tony says in a bit of a surprised voice. "Also yes."
"I like it!"
Tony yelps when his new son is suddenly next to him. "Now everyone is my family!" The boy giggles.
The whole room chuckles and smiles...until Vision speaks up. "Peter where are your clothes?" He asks.
Peter looks down at himself and fixes his pamper. "I put them in the toilet to wash later. Don't worry I flushed my potty first!" Peter smiles.
"Did....did you flush your clothes?" Vision questions.
"Yes! They're on a rinse bicycle!" Peter smiles until Friday alerts to a bathroom flooding. "Uh oh."
#avengers#peter parker#tony stark#bucky barnes#clint barton#natasha romanoff#steve rogers#bruce banner#short story#loki laufeyson#may parker#pepper potts#thor#tony and peter#james rhodes#wolverine#logan howlett#charles xavier#happy hogan#angst#doctor strange#stephen strange#resurrection#marvel#crap I have a lot of tags i am so sorry
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Sick Day - Colby Brock Imagine
POV: Second person (Y/N)
Word count: 2066
A/N: Here is more fluffy Colby... got this idea from watching one of his old videos when he had a cold and was losing his voice, and it was honestly just so cute.
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****
Colby: Babe
I feel like shit
Like stuffy and my stomach blahhh
You: Aww baby I’m sorry :(
Colby: Do you have to work today?
You stare at his message, knowing he wants you to come over. You did have a morning shift at Target and you’re about to clock in, but it does pain your heart that he’s not feeling well and probably alone right now.
“Are you okay, Y/N?”
You look away from your phone screen and at, Sally, one of your managers. “The boyfriend isn’t feeling well.”
Your phone vibrates, so you look back down to see another message from him.
Colby: Please come overrr
I really want you around.
“And now he’s begging me to come over.” You turn a slightly devilish smile on Sally. “Could I possibly...not work today?”
She shoots you a look.
You sigh a little and punch your four digit code into the monitor. “Yeah, I know.”
You: Sorry, Colby Jack, I just started my shift
I’ll be over right after
Colby: 😭😭
THATS SO LONG THO
You: I’m sorry!!!
But guess what??
Colby: ...Not sure I wanna know but what?
You: I LOVE YOU BUNCHES BABY😘😘
With all of my cold dark heart that you opened and warmed up
Colby: Stop playing cute with MEE!!
You: I don’t play cute?
Colby: Right and I haven’t looked the same for ten years straight.
Fucking walrus over here.
You: Shush
Stay wrapped up in your bed and watch something until I get there
Colby: Am I allowed to go pee or poop?
You: No, Colby..you can’t do any bodily functions
Colby: Get ready to have to clean up some shitty boxers then
You: Not the worse thing I’ve ever had to clean up 🤷😂
“Y/N, no phones out and get over to your area. More shirts and tanks need to be added in the women’s department.” Sally ordered from behind you.
You hold up a finger. “Okay, I swear I’ll head over, just one more quick message.”
You: I gotta go. Stay warm and drink some fluids, okay? I’ll be there before you know it��
Colby: Fine. I love you too btw❤
You smile, but it quickly fades when you see the wrath Sally is about to unleash and you pocket your phone before heading over to the women’s department.
***
“Brockster?” You call as you enter the mansion, carrying a plastic bag of some sick essentials; the boys never have any of it.
You head straight upstairs and can hear him grunting and whining until you open his bedroom door. Then he flops around from facing the wall and sits up with disheveled hair and a smile.
“You’re here!” His voice was definitely nasally, and he was losing it. But it was kind of adorable and made your heart ache with happiness.
You bite your lip to stop from laughing too hard at how cute he is being and looks right now. You hold up the bag that had sinus congestion relief, pain reliever, orange juice, sprite, chicken noodle soup, and saltine crackers in it and set it down on his desk. “Of course, baby. I brought some essentials.”
You walk over to feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “How are you feeling?”
He moans momentarily, then sniffles. “Better now that you’re here.”
All you do is roll your eyes before turning around to hide the pink in your cheeks. You grab the DayQuil sinus congestion relief from two Day&Night pack you bought and pour some of it into the clear small measuring cap it came with.
“Here, this should help with the sinus. I don’t understand how you guys never have any in this damn house.”
He swigs it down, cringing, and he sticks his tongue out as he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “AHH!” He hands it back, coughing into his other hand. “Thanks, baby. Hey, ask the other girl who lives here why we don’t.”
You shoot him a raised eyebrow look and he hides his face into his hands, then looks up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Really, all of us guys are just bad at being prepared for this. We believe in the ‘sucking it up’.”
“I know, and it’s stupid.” You reach out to ruffle up his hair some more and he grabs your wrist to pull you down into his lap. He pretends to try and kiss you. “That was until we all got girlfriends. I love you, baby.”
You fight him a little with a small laugh. “That’s sweet and I love you too, but Colby Jack don’t kiss me. I don’t want to get sick.”
He laughs and only tries more. “Does that mean you won’t lay with me?” He was giving the biggest puppy dog eyes ever and jutted out his bottom lip.
“Why you gotta pull out the puppy dog eyes, bro?”
He gasped and set a hand on his bare chest. “Why you gotta pull out the bro, bro? You know, every time you say it, it makes me feel a little less like your boyfriend and little more like just a friend.”
You roll your eyes, which makes him lightly lick his lips and smile, his tongue slightly sticking out between his teeth and he giggles. “I’m joking. It’s hot when you say bro.”
“Shut up.” You start to head out of the room to go to the bathroom.
“Hey, hey, hey!” You look over to see him stretching his arms out towards you, wiggling his fingers.
“Yeah?”
“Where you going?”
“To the bathroom. I gotta pee.”
“Oh.” He flops arms back down on the bed. “Pleeeaaase don’t be gone too long, okay?”
You shake your head. “I won’t be, you newb.”
***
“Hey guys!” Colby shouts, causing his voice to crack, into his phone. “Guess who is the best girlfriend on this planet? Yes, I want you to actually guess, comment on my most recent... Here’s some hints. She’s beautiful, has great music taste...takes care of me when I’m sick..” You look over at him and he smiles bigger. “She calls me bro, brosky, brockster, Colby Jack, aaaand she’s sitting right here!”
“Colby, stop!” You groan into a laugh.
He pulls his phone away with a hoarse laugh, wipes under his nose, and coughs shortly. “I’m posting that on the story.”
You don’t even bat an eye. He posts the most random shit on his Instagram story, and since he’s been open about your relationship, you show up or get a mention at least once every other day.
He sighs heavily and rolls back onto stomach, but so he could rest an arm over your lap. “I could take a nap.”
“You literally just took one.” You reply. “You were out so hard I was able to draw a duck and turtle on your back with a sharpie.”
His eyes shot open. “You did what?”
You shake your head and look back at your phone. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you for one second.” He actually gets out of the bed and hurries to the bathroom that has all the mirrors as walls. “Y/N! Why the fuck-?”
You bust out laughing and don’t say anything.
He comes back into the bedroom, his jaw dropped, but he’s amused. “You think you’re so funny. Prank wars are over, babe, but I’m not afraid to start one with you because I distinctly remember me winning.” He crawls onto the bed and places himself back where he was.
You play with his hair now and bite your bottom lip. “I think we know the real reason why you won those.” He looks up at you as you point to yourself and mouth “me”.
He pretends to be offended. “Not true!” He cracks out and clears his throat. “Not true.”
“Hmm...a majority of the pranks I thought up of that you used got all of the boys at once, every time, and got the most views. Like filling all of their individual shampoos with mayonnaise, play-doh gum, using bungee cords to connect all the door handles to their closet doors so they couldn’t get in their rooms, period blood fakeout, edible makeup.. Do I need to say more?”
“Damn,” he smiles like a goof, his eyes being the most blue they have all day, and moves to kiss your hip, “I forgot how savage you were with helping in that. I kind of miss us pranking them together.”
You smirk lightly. “I’d say we could do another idea I have, but I do not want us to start another prank war.”
Deviousness fills Colby’s features and he sits up. “Let’s do it.”
“Did you hear anything after I said that I had an idea?” You cock a brow, reaching for a saltine cracker to munch on.
“Come on, babe.”
You groan. “I’m warning you, it’s gonna start something.”
Colby smiles wider and hops out of bed. “What is it?”
***
You carefully watch from the window in the backyard as Aaron walks inside, whistling some tune to himself. Perfect, everyone is back now. As far as they know, you’re not here.
“Water balloons ready?” You look back at Colby, still wearing only boxers and a pair of baggy joggers, and notice him shivering a little. Yes, it’s the middle of the summer in LA, but he’s sick; you advise he wear a top of some sort, yet he didn’t listen.
He nods. “Yup.”
You help carry the balloons up to the roof of the shed they had and where you built a makeshift slingshot launcher. Colby helps hike you up there on his shoulders. You test one of the balloons on it to make sure it works and watch as it flings to land in a break in front of the back door.
Colby claps his hands with a laugh. “Oh, this is gonna be awesome, baby!”
“Right. You good to film?”
“Yeah, gonna tell them I’m doing a follow my voice bit and lead them out here.”
You smile. “Good.”
Colby jogs back inside with his camera and you had his GoPro setup on the tower to get your view of the slingshots. You prepare one of the water balloons filled with water and a plaster mix; yes, a store run had to be done for this, but it wouldn’t be as great if it was just water.
Colby peeks out the clear glass door, looking dorky as ever with giving you two thumbs up, and he opens it to lead Aaron out first.
Oh, sweet, sweet Aaron who doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body. Ringing him in on certain pranks in the past made you feel bad, but it was either all or no point. You wait until after you’ve launched the bomb to yell, “Can you hear my voice?”
Aaron lifts the blindfold just in time for the mess to unleash on his right shoulder. He looks shocked at first, but then laughs. “When and how did you get up there, Y/N?”
“Magic?” You offer with a shrug, then load another and let it rip. It lands and breaks open near his feet.
He jumps and yells in one of his goofy voices, “Hey, th-that’s not..not nice! I-I don’t..want..want to play wi-with anyasdlkfad-anymore.” Then he “storms” back inside.
You and Colby laugh and prepare for the next victim.
***
Despite being outside and getting wet, Colby’s temp was gone and he says his stomach felt better. The cold is still there though.
Colby’s hand with newly painted black fingernails done via you rubs your hip. With his face mostly snuggled in his pillow, he muffles, “Can you stay the night here?”
You sigh heavily, feeling a wave of exhaustion hitting you, and rub your hand over his elbow and forearm. “I could.” You toss the bottle of nail polish on the floor; you’ll pick it up tomorrow. You snuggle down under the covers, closer to him, and poke his cheek. “Hey?”
He pops open one eye and lifts his face a little. “What?”
You lean over to press your lips on his for a moment. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I love you, Colby Jack.”
He blushes with a giggle into the pillow. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N... I love you too, baby.”
[More stuff]
#Colby Brock#Colby Brock fluff#Colby Brock Imagine#Colby Brock fanfiction#Colby Brock fanfic#Sick Day#Sam and Colby#masterlist to come and be created
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oof i forgot to post notes
here
Nott is Fjord's daughter now
Calianna?? i missed the spelling im sure her sheet will pop back up, but she wants an Item from the storehouse.
She has also called jester and kiri cute which is gr8
Oooh she's got left side draconic shit
im working so like... bad notes
theyre all being dicks but shes determined theyre lovely i love her too much
theyre heading toward the... unterloch??? close enough
"Mr caleb" - Callie
Jester has Kiri on her shoulders <3
"MR FJORD" (with the lil j noise lmao) ooooh i love her
its super duper misty/foggy, they cant see much
Nott is Bren for this lmao, gives Febron some fuckin booze
Callie, @ Fjord: (some comment about parenting)
Callie calls Febron "Mr Creepy Pervert" which i think is. just fab.
move over molly youve been replaced as my fav
(jkjk molly my darling i love you)
i do love that its "i need a d6" and everyone clamours to give. ive done that. its so nice.
Big fuckin fireball burns off the fog in a wide area, and also damages something that comes for them
taliesin your vicious mockery needs work
Fjord casts Witch Bolt? Sick
ok ok notes picking up now promise, around Frumpkin looking out over shit with Caleb
layer of bones inside something or other. a tree trunk. something matted in corner.
taliesin and laura pointing in EXACT unison is really creepy
marisha gets that nat20 on a survivl check
Febron nearly walks into a venus fuck trap, Callie levitates him, and they bat him away like a balloon
Caleb is very good at being a dickhead and i adore him
Fjord sees a shadow and they fan out, Callie Fjord Beau Yasha Molly?
Shadow is a bulbous humanoid, super boily, trollish in nature
Beau distracts w some ball bearings
oh ja callie thinks molly is a super devout bahamut follower
Callie is from port demali originally! raised by a cult taken in off the street
Jester is charged with going to make friends with the troll and hands Kiri over holding her under the arms... wings?
And Fjord takes her by the scruff and literally EVERYONE gets mad
(Nott takes custody instead)
Jester sends her duplicate out, and the troll attacks it and then runs away when it fails
pearl hilted daggers in the trees mark the way
there are corpses set up for show ew
Jester is gonna try and Speak With Dead
Q: What Did this to you?
A: Swamp fish men under the ground
Q: How many?
A: Many
Q:did anything hurt them more
A: TLDR when we cut them, they bleed
Q: --nvm the troll gets Febron
Febron is Unconscious
FEBRON IS SUPER DUPER PERMADEAD
Beau is ALSO unconscious now
Matt: That ends your turn fjord?
Fkord:... yyyeah i cast regret
Caleb is casting things and IM HERE SCREAMING SLOW REPEATEDLY AT 5am
Yasha burns her movement to get close and DROP IT
Jester casts Healing Word THANK GOD
7hp
CALLIE FREES BEAU WITH LEVITATE!
troll gets away w febrons super dead corpse
back to speak with dead on the halfling
Q: which way is the safehouse
a: (head curves to right) hundred feet that way
br8k
The cult worshipped The Queen idk ic ant remember the proper name, part of a ritual the bowl, ueen of chromatic dragons
Callie cleans the water so Nott can see, which is sweet
jester + callie comlimeting one another is so cute this is th new otp
big big tree hollow chamber
Nott gets fragment of possibility and goes down a lil hole, falls but casts featherfall
they all godown, kiri in a corner, and they talk too much and lose their surprise round
Fjord: SUP, FISHFUCKS
HUNGER OF HADAR BITCHES HOLY FUCK
Fjord is stabbed w harpoon 8( and then is bitten!
BEAU IS ENLARGED
i love it when they call molly "mollymauk" it genuinely fills me with some joy
Fjord is nat20 harpoon'd too. AND AGAIN AND UNCONSCIOUS but half orc so 1hp
Fjord is pulled in, beau sentinel's it before it can get at him, but it still takes its bite- misses, thanks to Molly's blood maledict.
nvm he goes down again.
Yasha gets real mad and murders one of the fish buoys
Duplijester casts cure wounds by hugging Fjord
I love when the CRew starts fuckin singin all together its so beautiful. the lollipop every time.
Beau flurry of blows it and its dying but not gone.
Fjord gets the hdywtdt with his FUCKING eldritch blast
Callie is a little possessive of kill. "a little"
also i know shorthand itd be cali but fuck you im homestuck til the end
Kiri stabbing dead things (callie voice): i kill people!
Marisha is amazed by how magnets work
lots of money found. manacles.
Nott finds the bowl and hides it REALLY WELL from Callie
Caleb Identifies the bowl, it's for communicating with the Queen and requires blood.
Fjord has little panicky flashbacks of being in the shipwreck oh sheisse
he continues under the water though.
big room, piled up treasure, 5-6 fish dudes.
Caleb calls Everyone over except Jes and Nott, no, now including Jester.
Beau snatches the bowl from Caleb.
and now theyre all super mad at caleb for this what the fuck yall.
Cult of the caustic heart, servants of the scaled tyrant
Callie is being honest YAAAAAAY
Beau drags Caleb away and lectures him, but Callie stands up for him which is Really Nice.
Mol: "YOURE ALRIGHT CALEB, YOURE JUST A SHITTY COMMUNICATOR"
YASHA HAS THE SWORD THAT DISPELS MAGIC shes gonna stab it
IT WORKS!!!!! SHE SHATTERS THE FUCKING BOWL!!!!!!!
Callie just gives her a big hug awww and yasha pats her
Callie + Jester are now pen pals
Callie leaves
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Pls write something with Will in the IT universe omg.. . I would literally die that would be some good coming from you.
Will Byers doesn’t remember much about Derry, Maine.
It had been more of a rest-stop than a home, he knows that much is certain. He and his mom moved there that summer after Jonathan graduated high school, packing up their station wagon with Will’s colored pencils. A change of scenery, she called it, a chance to stretch our legs.
Will knows they were running away. But the bitter bite of cowardice had nothing on the relief he felt seeing Hawkins in the rearview mirror.
Now when he conjures memories of that single school year, his ninth grade year, he only comes up with faint flashes of color. Blue lockers and green grass and a red two-story house next door. He remembers ice-cold water and a rope swing in somebody’s backyard and lifting the door of some clubhouse, hidden away from the world.
A honking laugh, a hand clapping his back, a red balloon.
The memories don’t gain solidity until Mike Hanlon calls, late late at night.
Will rolls over in bed and picks up the landline, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his ear. His bedroom window is open, fall air blowing in and ruffling the curtains. The sounds of scratching branches and crunching leaves would have scared him a lifetime ago, would have reminded him of a summer spent in another World, but now they calm him. He can’t sleep in the lonely loud silence of his apartment, he needs a reminder of life outside his own, nature outside his window.
“Hello?” he asks softly, far too tired to speak louder than a whisper.
“Is this Will Byers?” a voice asks on the other line, honey-smooth and familiar.
“Yes,” Will whispers. There’s a peaceful silence for a moment, like time has stopped and the entire world is spinning around Will Byers, phone in hand. And then the voice shatters the peace and Will’s world with a single phrase.
“Will, it’s Mike. Mike Hanlon.”
“Mike,” Will breathes. “Can you believe I’d forgotten all about you?”
He hears Mike sigh on the other end of the line, crackly and distorted from miles of distance. Mike sounds older but still just as warm, a voice Will remembers from that singular school year spent tucked away in a sleepy Maine town. The fractured memories start to gain a little clarity, get context within his brain. For example, he remembers the tire swing was in Bill Denbrough’s back yard, which is a name he wouldn’t have been able to conjure up if you asked him for it just moments ago.
“I can believe it, all right,” Mike says. Will’s mind is racing, repressed memories floating to the surface all at once and it’s hard to grab hold of one and right himself. They slip through his fingers, like he’s drowning and trying to climb to the surface by grabbing hold of slippery seaweed.
And then one memory sticks out.
He remembers unpacking his room at the house in Derry, an attic bedroom with a small window that looked out across the neighborhood.
He had already filled his bookshelf, breaking down cardboard boxes as he went in order to create some actual floor space in his already small room, and then moved on to hanging and folding his clothes. The closet had a musty sort of smell, like mothballs and dust mixing together and Will cracked the window open in order to air the room out as much as possible.
The sounds of the day drifted in through the open window, the hum of a lawnmower cutting grass down the street and feet slapping on pavement. There was a shout from down below, a sort of yelp, and Will peered over the edge of the windowpane to investigate.
There were two boys across the street, probably a year or so older than him, and they were wrestling in the grass in front of a green bungalow house.
“Get off me, Richie!” the one boy yelled, pushing his friend and trying to roll over on top of him. He looked too small to do any real damage though and Will watched as the other boy, Richie, easily held his arms down with one hand and tickled his stomach with the other.
“Say uncle, Spagheds!” the boy on top shouted, pausing the tickling to push his glasses back up his nose. The brief moment of respite allowed the smaller kid to catch Richie by surprise and knee him in the stomach, forcing him to let out a choked gasp as he collapsed to the side dramatically.
“I’ve been assassinated!” Richie cried, “Killed by my own Eds!”
“You got grass stains all over my shirt, Trashmouth,” the little one whined, pulling the edge of his shirt out to look down at it. Sure enough, it had green smudges all over it that even Will could see from across the road. “Ma’s gonna kill me!”
Richie leaned over and helped to brush a bit of grass out of Eds’ hair and Will suddenly felt like an intruder, like he was watching the private moments of these strangers. It was nothing more than friendly wrestling but it felt like these boys had a bond Will could only dream of.
He suddenly missed his friends back in Hawkins more than he could bear, so much he felt the sadness would fill up his insides and drown him, and Will closed the curtains before it could settle inside him any more. He set back to unpacking, hearing the sounds of the boys outside drift down the street, carried away by the summer wind.
When he comes back to himself, Mike is continuing on the other line.
“Will, I’m calling you about Derry,” he’s saying, “I’m calling you about It,”
It.
Such a small word to send bone-chilling terror into Will, to inject his blood with ice. He shivers underneath all his blankets, his palm on the phone growing clammy with nervous sweat, and swallows audibly. The trees continue to creak and groan outside his window and Will almost finds them fear-inducing now, almost likens them to the creaking and groaning of bones, brittle and breaking. He has a flash in his mind of It, of Its lair, of Its terror.
“Do you remember Bill?” Mike asks and it feels like he’s constantly changing the subject on purpose, to keep Will on his toes and keep him from spiraling down into a crazed despair, mad over the memories of It. Will latches onto his voice, lets the warmth remind him of the good times and distract him from the bad.
“Of course I remember Bill,” Will answers, thinking of his friend’s blue eyes and stutter. He loved Bill, he remembers, they all did. It was impossible not to fall in love with Bill Denbrough, impossible not to be drawn into his cosmic aura of protectiveness.
Mike chokes out a laugh on the other line, almost as if he’s wrapped up in the same memories as Will, remembering being ready and willing to die for Bill Denbrough.
“He’s come back to Derry,” Mike explains, “I saw him just the other afternoon,”
“You’re still in that town?” Will interrupts. He always thought they all were going to go running just like he did, abandoning that haunted town as soon as possible. He remembers Bev did that year, left them for Portland and her aunt. When Will left, so close to the beginning of his sophomore year of high school, they were all chomping at the bit to go. Derry was sucking the life from them, assimilating them to its dark magic.
Stay here forever, it whispered in their ears, Give in.
You’ll be happy here.
You’ll float.
“Someone had to stay behind,” Mike says. “You know that,”
Will knows there were other powers at play, a thrumming energy beneath the earth that he merely joined in on. He wasn’t part of the Lucky Seven, his fate wasn’t intertwined with theirs, but he wasn’t an outsider either. For some reason the fog of Derry didn’t work on him like it seemed to with everyone else, didn’t pull the wool over his eyes. At the time he thought it had something to do with his past, was a side-effect of his time in the Upside Down, but now he knows it was because he was Chosen. The Turtle chose him to do good, to protect the Lucky Seven and aid their cause. Will feels honored to have been trusted.
“What’s Bill doing in Derry?” Will asks.
He knows the answer, knows deep down in his bones why Bill followed the siren song back to the town that taught Will the true meaning of evil.
He remembers standing in a circle in the Barrens, his left hand in Eddie’s and his right hand in Mike’s.
The sun shone over them, casting shadows across their features. Will watched as Richie brought his knees to his chest, picking at a scab on his knee. He was leaned into Bill, just slightly, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from him even a few inches. Will knew something changed between them that day in the sewers, something in them grew closer and closer together. He couldn’t help but be a little jealous of their bond, like he always was when he remembered how much the Losers shared without him.
“I can only remember parts,” Bev said, staring at the grass as it bobbed in the wind. Will couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t force himself to look at the cut on her cheek and the way her hands shook as she clasped them together in front of her. “But I thought I was dead,”
Will kept his eyes on the ground as she told them of her vision, her now-memory of them as adults back in Derry, back in Its lair.
“I saw us,” Bev told, looking around the group. Will could feel her eyes on him, boring into his soul, but he couldn’t get himself to look up. Her vision couldn’t have included him, there’s no way his fate could be intertwinned with theirs in the same way.
“All of us,” she promised. When Will looked up, she was looking right at him, focused on his face. She looked so much older than the rest of them, so much wiser. It was like the Deadlights changed her, aged her, made her perhaps a little more empty inside. Will hated looking at her now and seeing the effect It had on her, on all of them.
“Swear it,” Bill said, standing and grabbing a broken piece of glass from the ground. Will cut his eyes over to the boy, watching the sun glint off the glass as Bill gestured. “Swear if It isn’t dead– if It ever comes back, we’ll come back too,”
They looked around at one another, the wind ruffling their hair and stinging their eyes, and they made a promise to themselves. Richie stood up first, Eddie following his lead, and then they were all stood in a circle in the Barrens, pledging their future.
The bottle stung as Bill cut open Will’s palm, dug into his skin and stretched it open. He felt sharper somehow, more awake with the blood running down his palm and between his fingers. He looked at Beverly and she was watching him again, something in her eyes that Will couldn’t place. He kept looking at her as he took Eddie’s hand, wincing as his cut dragged across Mike’s palm.
There was a thrumming enery between all of them, a power being passed through as they bled together. It was hot like fire, electric as he felt his heart beat all the way down to his toes, getting louder and louder. It felt like they were beating together, their hearts in time with one another as they made a promise to return and finish their job.
They stayed together as long as they could stand it, for as much time as they could bear to feel the power, before they broke apart. The summer wind felt chilled when they separated, like the only thing keeping Will warm was the power of the Lucky Seven.
“You were there,” Bev told him later, saying goodbye for the last time before she went to Portland. She grabbed his shoulder and made him look her in the eye again. “Grown up just like the rest of us, back in the sewers,”
“Okay, Bev,” he said quietly, blinking as she swallowed. He watched her eyes flick between his, searching for something, before she nodded once and then brought him in for a hug.
She was lying. He knew she was lying, was trying to make him feel better by pretending he was there with them all those years from now, but she was wrong. He could tell in her eyes that she was scared of the future, was worried about what awaited them years and years from now, but that she was trying to be strong for all their sake. Will wondered what she really saw in the Deadlights that made her so scared, so desperate to assure Will of his placement in their cosmic group.
Friends don’t lie, but Beverly Marsh was lying anyway.
“I love you,” she promised, kissing the top of his head.
“I love you too,” he said and that was that.
He never saw Beverly Marsh again after that summer.
“He intends to finish what we started,” Mike says.
Will can almost feel Mike’s hand in his now, warmth spreading from his fingers over his palm and up his arm. He brings his hand up to the light, to his face, and expects to see blood in the center of his palm, dripping over the bedsheets, but he’s clean.
He squints and just for a moment, sees a thin white scar. It’s as long as the cut Bill made for him, jagged from the blunt bottle tearing his skin instead of slicing it, and it’s the first time Will is noticing it for twenty years. He turns his hand over and then back, watching it to make sure the evidence doesn’t disappear again.
“Please say you’ll come back too,” Mike asks. He sounds hesitant, like he’s waiting for Will to slam the phone down.
“I–” Will starts. The words clog in his throat and he has to clear it before he can force them out, “I’m not one of you,”
“No,” Mike interupts but Will keeps going, has to say it all now or he’ll never be able to say it again.
“I’m not… one of you. I never was,” he whispers. “You have so much power that you can’t even see and I’m not a part of that.” The scar on his hand feels hot, feels like a fresh wound that’s fighting infection, and Will pulls his fingers into a fist to fight the urge to break down.
“I can’t help you, Mike, I’m not strong enough,” Mike silences on the other line and Will’s breath is ragged, loud even over the beating of his heart.
“You were one of us,” Mike says finally, the words crackling. Will closes his eyes and tries to sink back into his pillow, tries not to let the words get to him but Mike sounds so earnest and honest. “We loved you like a brother, like one of our own,”
“I’m not strong enough,” Will repeats.
“We need you anyway,” Mike says and Will knows the decision has been made, was made twenty years ago when he cut his hand and looked into Bill Denbrough’s eyes. His fate was decided before he even knew what he was deciding on.
The scar burns as he nods, as he tells Mike he’ll be there soon. It aches as he packs his bags and books a flight to Derry first thing in the morning, twinging when he climbs into a towncar outside the airport and riding into the sleepy Maine town he’d forgotten all about.
The scar doesn’t stop burning until he’s stepping out of a taxi in front of Jade of the Orient, Derry wind prickling his face and smelling like the past. It reminds him of summer and dust and death and Will bites back the sudden fear that crawls up his throat.
He takes a deep breath and goes inside the restaurant, finally ready to face his fate.
send me requests/headcanons/prompts!
#will byers#it headcanons#it movie#it 2017#it crossover#stranger things#stranger things crossover#it stranger things#bill denbrough#richie tozier#beverly marsh#mike hanlon#stanley uris#eddie kaspbrak#ben hanscom#UM HI EVERYONE I GUESS IM BACK????#i took a lot of time off from writing and i really have no excuse but hahaha i guess im Back#anyway have this headcanon thats been sitting unfinished in my drafts for MONTHS#it was originally gonna be a full fic but idk if i wanna bother finishing it lmaoooo#my writing
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Queen of Ash and Dust- An IT/Dark Tower crossover- Chapter 2
You could have cried when you first saw Pricetown. First from relief when you saw it from the distance, and then up close when you saw what a ghost town it was. If a town was what you could call it.
After two days, the relentless desert was finally starting to fall behind you. You were surprised you could even still keep yourself upright. You could still taste the ash in your mouth from eating nothing but the scraps that the man Roland had been pursuing had left behind. Roland still hadn’t told you who he was. But neither had he questioned you about Pennywise much to your relief. You still had yet to mention him to your new traveling companion and were hoping against hope to keep it that way for as long as you could manage.
The dry wind continued to whistle in your ears. And you were sure your face was becoming chapped. You stumbled. You had been doing that a lot lately. Roland shot you a worried look. You put your hand over your stomach as another bout of nausea rose up in you. You needed food, blood, something. As the two of you neared the first house, you heard a braying sound. They stopped.
“I hear a donkey,” you said.
“I hear it too,” said Roland. “We need to find where it’s at. Ask if we can buy it.”
You trudged forward. Ghost town indeed. You heard an echoing pounding sound, like someone was beating a hammer. Sure enough, it was a bedraggled man beating on a piece of tin that was coming loose off the top of a shed. You saw a woman sitting on a porch in a rocking chair, shucking corn. Your mouth started watering. You licked your lips. It took all your willpower not to go snatch an ear from the woman. Finally you and Roland came to the house that had the mule. There were two scraggly horses as well. They both had dirt caked on their sides and haunches. Their backs twitched as a small cloud of flies kept landing on them. You felt bad for them.
How can anyone survive in a town like this, much less livestock? you wondered.
A little further down the road was what appeared to be either a meager general store or a bar. Maybe it was both. Roland approached the house with the mule, you at his side. The steps up to the porch creaked.
“Let me do the talking,” said Roland. “And you might want to stand behind me.
You frowned. “Why?”
“Just trust me.”
You did as he asked. Roland knocked on the door. The wind whistled around you.
Y/N. Y/N.
You glanced to the left. Was that your name you had just heard?
Y/N.
You whipped around. And then you was it. A red balloon in the middle of the street. Your heart started pounding. He was here. Pennywise was here.
You bounded off the porch into the middle of the street, searching around frantically.
“Y/N?”
You ignored the gunslinger. Pennywise was still alive. The dust continued to blow around you. It was flying up in the air now. You turned and turned. You wanted to cry out to him, but your voice seemed to be stuck in your throat. And then you stopped. Just behind the back corner of a house, you saw him. And to your surprise, there was no anger. There was no resentment. All there was, was joy.
You stood frozen, staring at your mate. Wind blew more dust between you and Pennywise, but there was no that he was definitely there. Should you go to him? What would you tell him, now that he was actually before you.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore. Before you could take three steps, something large slammed into you from behind. Strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you off the ground, pulling you with him. You opened your mouth to scream, but your breath came out in a whoosh.
A stagecoach thundered past you. You stared after it in shock. Roland filled your vision. He placed his hand firmly on your shoulder.
“Are you alright?”
You pointed towards where Pennywise was. “I…”
“Didn’t you see the coach coming?”
You glanced back, but Pennywise was gone. So was the balloon. Had you imagined things? Was the desert sun getting to you?
“Y/N?” Roland waved his hand in front of your face and you finally met his gaze. “Did you see something?”
“I think I…”
Should you tell him? You sighed wearily. If Pennywise had been there, you would definitely run into him again.
You shook your head softly. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Must just be the heat.”
“Well let’s get you inside,” Roland said softly.
You felt a twinge of guilt. Roland had been so good to you these last couple of days, made sure you were fed, even though the pickings had been meager. How would he react when he found out about Pennywise, about what he was?
You let Roland lead you back to the house. You took one final glance around where you had seen the balloon. Nothing.
Roland knocked on the door. No one came. He knocked a second time. You could hear footsteps inside, and finally the door came open with a squeak. A man’s head poked out. He had short, thin hair and a milky eye.
“What ye want?” the man asked.
“We are weary travelers just come across the Mohaine. We hope to buy a mule…and some food if you can spare any.”
The man’s eyes traveled up and down your body. He idly scratched his thin belly.
“Come in. I’ll see what kind of business I can do with ye.”
The door opened the rest of the way. Roland entered first, and you followed warily. You didn’t like how the man had looked at you. But you didn’t worry. For sure Roland would let no harm come to you. Not that you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself. The man couldn’t have weighed much more than you. And he didn’t have Pennywise’s blood in him.
The man’s meager hovel had a rich, meaty smell to it. You scrunched up your face. Your stomach roiled. You wanted to cover your nose with your mouth, but didn’t want to appear rude. Once you were all inside, the man turned to face you and Roland.
“So what can I do ye for? Ye say you want ma mule? Gonna have to pay for him.”
Roland gave a nod. “Yes I am aware.”
The man gave a nod towards you. “The girl need to eat? I got some fresh beans a’cookin’.” The man went to an old cast iron stove. A small pot bubbled on top of it.
“We don’t want to take more than you can give.”
The man opened a cabinet and pulled out a small wooden bowl. “Nonsense. A girl’s gotta eat. ‘Specially one in her condition.”
You blinked a couple of times. You glanced down at your flat stomach. Your condition? You were only six weeks along. There was no way the man knew. Unless he meant your appearance. Did you really look that bad? You decided to play it off with a laugh.
“Yes I supposed I do look a little haggard. This is the desert after all.” You shrugged.
The man still had his back to you. He was spooning some beans into the bowl. “Yes it is time we get a little blood in ye.”
Your smile fell. “Blood?”
The man turned. “Beans. I said beans. What’d ye think I said?” He grabbed a spoon and handed the bowl to you as you stood staring at him with your mouth agape.
“I…nothing. I must have misheard you. Thanks.”
You took a spoonful of beans. They looked fairly hard still. But food was food. You blew it off so as not to burn your mouth.
“So what ye goin’ for, gunslinger, with this young lady in tow?”
You narrowed your eyes. This man sure was taking a good bit of interest in you.
“Heading to Tull. It’s personal business.”
“Ahh. Eat yer beans, kitten, so we can talk.” The man tilted his chin towards you, a sly grin on his mouth.
He led Roland towards a table and pulled out a chair. You stared after him with your spoon halfway to your mouth, which was gaping wide open. Kitten? You slowly placed the spoon back into the bowl. You swallowed.
Pennywise. It had to be Pennywise. But how? Was this Pennywise himself or had he possessed this man? And if it really was Pennywise, was the real man dead, perhaps behind his house somewhere?
You spotted a rickety stool next to the door and perched yourself on it. The man told you to eat. Even if he wasn’t Pennywise, you were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You took a bite of your beans and tried not to make a face. They were still half hard. But you ate with gusto. The man spoke to Roland about the mule. Roland reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He held it up for the man to see. The man’s eyes grew wide. He leaned forward.
“Well, well, well. Is that real?” He grabbed the coin from Roland.
“Yes.”
You eyed the coin. It looked suspiciously like gold.
“I uh… I don’t have the change for this.”
Roland leaned forward as well. He rubbed his jaw. “Not expecting it. Do we have a deal?”
The man gave a nod. “Aye. A deal indeed. The mule is yours.”
Roland stood. “Good. Do you have any extra crop we can take as well? Some corn?”
The other man stood. “Well now, that might cost extra.”
You placed your spoon back in your bowl with a clatter. “What? He already paid you extra. And you gave me food without question.”
“Little ladies like you need to eat,” the man told you. He squinted one eye at you. “You’ve got a long journey ahead of you, ain’t ye?”
You glanced over sheepishly at Roland. Time for you to test your Pennywise theory.
“Maybe we shouldn’t take the mule after all,” you told him in an authorative voice. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
You stalked across the room.
“Well now I never said-“
���I know what you said,” you spat as you plopped your bowl on the table between the man and Roland. “You just said that his coin was more than enough and now you want extra.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Sounds like you’re trying to swindle us.”
The man nodded slowly at you, a sly grin playing across his mouth which he now revealed to be full of rotten teeth.
“Spoken like a true queen,” he said admiringly.
You scowled at the man as he confirmed your suspicions.
“A queen?” You decided to play along. “Tell me, what queen must be forced to live on ashy campfire remains?”
“Times will get better fer ye, kitten.”
You shook your head at your mate angrily. “Someone promised me that a long time ago. And now I’m in Hell because of it.”
You tried to walk past him, but he grabbed your arm.
Roland jolted forward. “What are you-“
Your stared at the man with a look of shock. He stared at you with a glazed look in his eyes.
“Blood is life out here. You are life out here.”
You tried to pull away from him. And then you smelled it.
Blood.
You glanced down as the man pulled his other hand up. He had a knife in it. Blood dropped from his palm.
Your mouth fell open and you pulled harder. “Penny, please,” you whispered.
“Let her go,” Roland growled.
The man clamped down on your arm harder. “Blood is life. Stay true to who you are...” he leaned over n towards her, “or die.”
You stared at him in horror. You’d had enough. Pennywise or not there was no way you were going to down his blood in front of Roland. Anger started to well up in you. Anger at Pennywise for getting you stuck in this Hell hole.
You grabbed your bowl of beans and mashed it against his face. He let you go with a hiss and you took off running. You ran out the door and stopped when you got on the porch. The smell of blood still lingered in your nostrils.
“Fuck.”
You took a shaky breath. Your eyes. Roland would see your eyes. You knew what they would look like. You shakily walked around the porch. There had to be something. And then you saw it. A bucket near the porch. It was half full of water. You jumped down. First you splashed your face. The water was lukewarm. You splashed it again. And then you stared down and waited for the water to calm down.
“No, no, no,” you said when you saw your reflection.
Your eyes were gold.
“Fuck me.”
You hit the rim of the bucket, making the water slosh around. Roland would have questions. And you would have to answer them. One way or another. You owed him that much. But would your new comrade be able to handle the truth? That your husband was a monster. And so were you.
#dark tower fanfiction#dark tower#pennywise x reader#pennywise fanfiction#roland deschain#gunslinger fanfiction#gunslinger
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The Signs As Some Of My Favorite Quotes From This Video:
Aries: “when you take a bite of a hot dog, you’re making a pact with the DEVIL”
Taurus: “the logistics of you are weird, you’re like 8 feet tall and floppy”
Leo: “if i put this around my body, you could see.. all my bits”
Virgo: “this is the shittiest reversible shirt of all time, where both sides look like the inside of the shirt”
Capricorn: “egg guy, i gotta be honest”
Sagittarius: “woAHH SHUDDUP RYAN LOOK AT THIS”
Gemini: “if this is what people taste like, guess what? we’re headed in a great direction”
Libra: “We’ve got scabs!”
Aquarius: “a life without popcorn is a life not worth living”
Cancer: “let’s just go, as in take another shot?”
Scorpio: “That frosting starts to mix with the tree bark part”
Pisces: “we’re the stick guys”
The Myers-Briggs Types As Some Of My Favorite Quotes From This Video:
ISTJ: “a chipmunk has a soul. i don’t think that’s a crazy thing to say.”
ISFJ: “it smells like cardboard”
INFJ: “do i look like i need milk?”
INTJ: “there’s something very bold about the deepness of this V”
ISTP: “imagine a root beer but with no moisture”
ISFP: “the only yellow food i know is a banana”
INFP: “This was either made in 30 seconds, or it was made 90 years ago”
INTP: “NO YOU CAN’T SAY SCIENTIFIC”
ESTP: “This donut is lubed up”
ESFP: “you angered me so now I’m gonna double fist these dogs”
ENFP: “Gonna dog it up baby!”
ENTP: “IT’S SOFT! IT’S THE SOFTEST EVIDENCE THERE EVER WAS”
ESTJ: “see you suckers at the water cooler”
ESFJ: “if you’re eating hot dogs every day, i’m sorry, start digging a hole”
ENFJ: “yeah, there’s my nipple”
ENTJ: *mouth full*: “I ate too many”
Honorable Mentions I Couldn’t Bring Myself To Delete (also useful if i didn’t get your sign/type right):
“Are these made out of rubber tires? i k n o w t h a t”
“bone fragments, a small piece of metal, ‘something green’, blue plastic, a band-aid...”
“you have the tongue and tolerance of a toddler”
“i could see myself eating this at 2 am, after a long night”
“it was a mistake shot”
“where does all this liquid go? are we filling up like balloons right now?”
“I’m gonna take an IV selfie”
“all that for a banana?”
“that’s like serial killer shit dude, what are you talking about?”
“this is bug blood for sure”
“you look like TRASH buddy, and lookit me”
“this shirt is powerful”
“makin green beans in a lab somewhere”
*(I’m Taurus and INFP, for the record)*
#tag yourself#the signs as#mbti types#myers briggs#shane madej#ryan bergara#buzzfeed unsolved#meme#buzzfeed unsolved meme#shane and ryan#ryan and shane#zodiac
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Snapshots: Part 1
Some Peace Corps volunteers are excellent photographers. Their Instagram and Facebook profiles are filled with the perfect pictures - cute kids posing with crafts they’ve made, motivated farmers standing proudly with their tree nurseries, strong mothers whipping up some fire peanut sauce, or their charming village silhouetted against the sunset. I, however, am not one of those volunteers. I never think about taking pictures and when I do they never turn out well, always out of focus or with weird coloring. It might have something to do with the fact that my phone is from 2012, and while it still functions excellently and I am glad to have it, the camera pales in comparison to what’s available on newer models. Also, I tend to think that some of the most memorable or iconic moments are ones I can’t capture with a photo. So, over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to capture these moments with words. Here are some of the feelings, events, or short stories I thought worthy of taking note. I’ve titled this post “Part 1″ with hopes of making more like this in the future!
Observations While Traveling
the sept plas driver using a wooden block to keep the tires from moving because he can’t put the car in park
sharing the front passenger seat with a grown man so nine people can fit in a car made for seven
the feeling of awe seeing a massive stone cliff face loom above the trees as the car turns corner after dusty corner
mild agony as the car slows, lurches, slows, lurches over and over; jostling as the car dips through washouts; the urge to pee continuing to grow
Moments in Village
excitement after checking on a tree nursery that’s actually sprouted a good amount. little babies!
the satisfaction of walking home from the garden at sunset, looking at the mountainous horizon thinking that things are gonna be alright
the silliness I feel when I try to be helpful and pound rice with my mom and sisters
the closeness I feel to them when we exchange a few simple smiles
helping the women in my village cut an entire laundry bucket full of onions for lunch at a baptism and not crying a single tear
responding “yes, i’m trying” every time the women ask me “Binta, you can cut onions?!” as if they’re surprised i have even one culinary ability
the moment before i ride my bike down the big hill toward my road town, listening for an oncoming car in the distance, knowing I’m making quite the risky decision
doing it anyway and feeling the wind in my hair through my helmet and my eyes watering and the howling in my ears but coasting to a stop at the bottom feeling like everything is right
the joy on my mom’s face when I give her and my sisters a loaf of homemade challah bread I made while in Kedougou. “binta, your dad’s going to be so happy that he will dance today!”
and my sister confused about the six-strand braid asking if it’s really just one loaf of bread
holding a two week old baby having no clue what to do except not let the head drop
telling the grandma the baby is beautiful only for her to respond “no, he’s so ugly”
watching a toddler shove handfuls of dirt into her mouth as if it were candy
sitting at a women’s group meeting, appearing to be in deep conversation with another volunteer while the women count dues, when in fact we are actually just discussing our favorite kinds of cereal
helping the same women’s group build a tree nursery, casually reflecting on how many hours I have spent up close and personal with poop (in the form of manure) since arriving in this country
sitting with my friend under a mango tree at the end of the day, watching the setting sun, learning about upcoming Ramadan and talking about the pilgrimage to Mecca
Storytime - The Dog
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a dog and her name is Lyra. She is about five months old at the time I write this. She is a great companion and normally follows me everywhere I go. One afternoon, we’re walking together to the well to pump water, like we do every day, and she abandons me somewhere along the walk. I go to the well, fill my bucket, walk home, and still don’t see her. However, I’m not worried. I figure she is playing in the bush and will come back to the house eventually like she always does.
I go into my hut, put the water bucket in the backyard, change into my running clothes, and sure enough by the time I’m done and heading out for a run, Lyra comes jogging up to my door. Two things are off. First, her stomach has swollen up like a balloon. My first thought is “what the fuck did you eat.” Second, she looks up at me with the most satisfied look on her face and there’s the clue - the fur around her mouth is all completely stained red with blood. Fuck, lol.
So I go around the corner of my hut and find my answer. I look down at what she’s been tearing apart, the reason why she abandoned me on our walk, and find the rear half of a dead lamb, completely disemboweled. I just stand there for a few seconds with my mouth in the shape of an O, realize my host-mom is staring at the whole thing, then quickly assure her it wasn’t Lyra!!! She didn’t kill it!!! She just found it!!! Then throw Lyra in my backyard and awkwardly leave to go for my run.
I come back from my run, ready to take a nice refreshing bucket bath, but because my dog’s face is covered in blood and she smells like a dead animal, figure I should try to bathe her first. Figure I should try to bathe her even though I know she absolutely hates water. As you probably guessed my attempt was a failure. I tried to hold her in my arms as I lathered the shampoo and water but she got all slippery like a boiled hotdog and fled from my arms when I was only maybe 2/3 finished, making sure to claw desperately at my scalp on her way out. Ouch.
I walk outside to see where she went and of course she found a nice big pile of dirt to seek comfort in. I grab a towel to dry her off and tell my family “you see, this is why I don’t bathe her. Y’all always ask me why I don’t bathe my dog, I tell you she hates water, and this is what will happen.” Lyra’s last say on the matter was to bite my hand and run away again as I tried to rub her down. Okay.
And finally to top it off, as I’m walking dejectedly back to my hut, soaking wet and covered in dog hair, my dad calls out to me “Binta! Don’t bathe your dog! She hates water, you hear? She refuses to be bathed, you hear?” Like as if I hadn’t already told them that a million times! Okay.
After I finish my own bucket bath I put on some clean clothes and go outside to sit with my family as we wait for dinner to finish cooking. Lyra comes up to me seeking a pat on the head, I reject her, and she promptly throws up a nice steaming pile of sheep guts next to my feet. Then falls asleep right in the middle of the compound at 8 pm. She spent the entire following day sleeping under my bed and farting little clouds of the most foul stench I have ever encountered. Okay.
Anyway, she’s fine now. The end.
More to come later!
- Maggie
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7½ Disasters
@jilychallenge 07/2017 | @bantasticbeasts vs @petalstofish
Summer Tropes | “we have to crush the team of our unbeaten rivals in this waterfight (even if the other side has a rlly cute red head) oh god fOCUS”
Word count: 3000
AO3
would you believe me if i told you it’s still july on mars?
The first summer, it’s just him and Sirius, riding their bikes down to the corner store and using James’ pocket money to buy water balloons. When they get back to James’, they fill them up, and they have a go throwing them at each other. Sirius shrieks the first time he’s hit, and James’ aim accuracy plummets because he’s got water all over his glasses and he can’t bloody see anything, and Sirius will you stop darting around already.
It’s not nearly as fun as it looks in those American movies.
They trek inside, drenched and shivering, and James’ mum shoves them both in the downstairs shower to get the grass off. James doesn’t mind nearly as much as he lets on; a water fight in the English summer is a rather cold affair. Sirius gives his arm a soggy punch and says, “I’m gonna destroy you next time.”
But two days later, Sirius gets whisked away by his parents to France, and by the time he gets back, 17 whining postcards later, school has started and James has a runny nose anyway.
(It’s a disaster).
The second summer, Sirius has the forethought to invite Remus and Peter, and James has the forethought to wait for a day that’s actually hot. Sirius and Remus stay behind to fill up balloons while James and Peter speed down the hill to go get water guns.
Between them they can afford three little ones, or they can get one big one. “It makes more sense,” Peter reckons, “to get the three, ‘cause then we can have one between pairs and then a spare in case one breaks.”
“Yeah,” James says, “that does make sense.”
(They get the one big one).
James and Sirius argue for almost two hours over who should get to wield it before Remus snatches it from the table and climbs up the big tree in James’ backyard and sprays them when they try to follow.
(It’s a disaster).
The next summer, Peter brings along Lily Evans, who brings along Marlene McKinnon, who brings along someone who James thinks is named Fenwick. And of course, Snape, because he follows Evans around like a lost puppy at school, so why wouldn’t he follow her here? It makes James’ skin crawl to have Snape inside his house. Why’s his mum got to be so nice to everyone, whether they’re his friend or not?
How did he get to a stage in his life where Snape is in his kitchen, drinking his orange juice out of his designated cup at his favourite spot at the counter?
James spends the afternoon aiming for Snape with extreme prejudice.
(Evans spends the same afternoon aiming for James with the same prejudice).
(James abandons Snape and directs his fury towards Evans).
(It’s a disaster).
The next summer, there’s so many kids at the Potter house that they need teams, and Evans decides it should be boys against girls. Sirius, the traitor, pipes up to agree with her, but he doesn’t realise that this means that Snivellus will be on their team, and by the time James has smacked him on the ear in anger, Lily’s already herded Mary, Marlene, and three girls James doesn’t know (people he doesn’t know! at his house!) to a spot under the tree to discuss tactics.
James surveys his own team: Sirius, Remus, Peter, Benjy Fenwick, the weird boy from down the road who James doesn’t really like but doesn’t really dislike either (Diggle?). And Snape. God, it’d be perfect without Snape. He’d be happy to put up with Diggle, if it wasn’t for Snape.
At least Snape looks about as keen about it as he feels.
He’s been practicing his aim, and every balloon he throws lands on its mark.
“Friendly fire is one thing,” Evans is saying, and her hair is limp around her shoulders, plastered to her neck, “but you’re taking it too far! What’s Sev ever done to you?”
He just brings a balloon down on her head and runs away. She shouts something after him, and then she throws something after him. The balloon bursts on his calves and he almost trips over.
He does trip over. He hates having to sit out while his lip stops bleeding, but he supposes the fact that his mum is gonna let him go back out at all is a miracle.
Of course, his absence means he’s been exiled from his own team, and now he’s a freelancer. Which means he can go wild, but which also means that when he steps back onto the grass with only a handful of balloons, he’s a target for everyone.
Evans grimaces an apology, and he waves her off. Well, he throws a water balloon at her. It’s the first shot he misses, the balloon splitting harmlessly on the ground.
He ducks to miss one from Peter, and Remus gets him from behind. Typical. He throws his last balloon at Peter, and then he has to scramble to find more before they can bombard him in full.
(He doesn’t).
(It’s a disaster).
The next summer, James says, “Alright, Evans,” and hands her a stack of bright red sashes that his mum sewed for him last week. “You and me, team captains.”
She takes them with a scowl, and says, “Thank you,” like it pains her. It strikes him that she comes to his house an awful lot for someone who apparently can’t stand him.
“And because I’m feeling extra especially nice, you can pick first.”
Evans nods thoughtfully, then there’s this vicious look in her eyes and, “Black.”
James feels as though she’s been shot. Sirius looks at him in panic, but what can he do?
“Um,” says James. “Remus?”
Evans is fast, though. “Peter.”
Snape spits on the ground. On James’ ground. Where he sits sometimes.
“Sev,” Lily says, softly, but Snape storms off.
Good, thinks James. “Mary.”
Really, by the end of it, everyone’s sitting out except for him and Evans. It’s just them in the middle of his garden with a bucket of balloons each (his mum had taken away the guns after Sirius wouldn’t stop shooting water directly into Peter’s eye), yelling nonsense and hitting each other.
(It’s a disaster).
The next summer is the one after Sirius discovers Gasolina. He spends the day before the Battle Royale (and in hindsight, this is the first one that really, truly deserves the title Battle Royale) figuring out how to get Fleamont’s hi-fi system to play it and play it loud. He enlists Euphemia’s help in starting it playing right as the battle begins. It’s the call to arms they’ve been waiting for.
Peter takes first blood, a hot and immediate reaction to hearing the first notes of a song that, over the last eight months, has become the bane of his existence. Sirius splutters, and James wants to be on Peter’s side, he really does. But this is Gasolina, and it feels so stupidly right. Even Evans is biting back a smile. Or, he thinks she is. Maybe she’s biting back a scowl, but that seems unlikely. Evans is known for letting her scowls run freely.
Snape isn’t a bad shot, which pisses James off, because he won’t let Remus alone for even a second. He hates Evans for keeping on inviting him, and he lobs a balloon at her to let her know how pissed off he is. Maybe she gets it, or maybe she’s just in a water fight. Either way, she gets him right in the face.
“That’s it, run away!” spits Snape.
James spins, and there’s Remus, scrambling up the tree, and there’s Snape, throwing balloons and - stones from the flower bed?
He watches Remus fall out of the tree in slow motion.
They’ve climbed that tree a thousand times, they know that tree. Remus knows that tree. How can this happen, how can this be happening? He can’t look away.
The look on Snape’s face is victory, and it doesn’t slip when the crunch of Remus’ arm breaking rings out across the garden. That’s what really riles James. There’s not any remorse, he doesn’t look sorry.
James is on him before anyone can react to any of it.
There’s blood on the grass, but he doesn’t know where it came from. Is Snape bleeding? Is he bleeding? Yeah, it must be him. Snape’s got his grubby fingernails in James’ skin.
Someone grabs him around the waist. He elbows them in the chest. He needs another hit on Snape. Just one more, that’s all he needs.
Peter grabs his arm. Evans grabs the other.
“Get him!” Sirius shouts from far away. Too far away.
“That’s enough, Potter,” Evans spits at him.
“He broke Remus’ arm!” James shouts, and she flinches.
“I don’t need help,” Snape hisses, poisonous. “Not from a little slut like you.”
James gets his hit.
Euphemia drives him and Remus to A&E. She tries to make Snape come too, but he scarpers the minute her back is turned. Remus gets a cast, and James gets six stitches in his eyebrow, and they both promise to pretend the other didn’t cry.
James ends up with a scar, and when they go back to school, Evans touches it softly.
(Maybe it isn’t a disaster after all).
The next summer, James learns what it’s like to have Evans fight by his side, and he doesn’t ever want to go back to how it was before.
This is what happens:
They stand with their sashes, and go through the ceremony of pretending to choose teammates, because Evans will always have her girls, and James always have his boys. They glance at each other uneasily when they have to acknowledge Snape’s absence, and then Evans just barrells on like usual.
It starts like normal. Well, this whole event has been so ridiculous over the course of the last six years that starts like normal could mean practically anything. It starts with the teams in parallel lines, a bucket of balloons each. Then his mum shouts, “Ready?” from the balcony, and then she presses play on the hi-fi, and Sirius times his first hit to the first duro! and it devolves from there.
Evans is shaking like a leaf when she corners him under the balcony and he acknowledges somewhere in the back of his head that he must be cold, too.
“James!” calls Remus, but he doesn’t drop a balloon on Evans’ head like they planned. James shimmies past her until he can see up to where Remus is leaning over the railing, empty handed.
“What?” he shouts back.
Remus just points, out towards the driveway and the winding road that connects the hill to the town. If James had a Spidey Sense, it’d be tingling right about now. He sprints to the tree, and climbs as far as he can, until he can see what the matter is. He’s surprised to find Evans pushing her way up beside him.
“Is that-”
James grimaces. “Mulciber’s car.”
It’s a desperately ugly monstrosity of a Beamer-cross-Buick-cross-Behemoth, and it spent the better part of last term impounded, though that period of bliss seems to be over. They watch is crawl up the road as Mulciber struggles to find the right gears for the climb, and James is still frozen.
“Come on!” Evans shouts at him from the ground. “Christ, you’re useless. Black! Start filling up balloons. Mary, make sure all the guns are topped up. Peter, you get Potter out of the tree.”
They’re not ready when the car pulls up in front of the house. Why don’t they have a gate?
“Ready!” shouts Evans. James picks up a balloon. Pink. He tosses it up and catches it, feels the weight of the water. Sirius catches his eye and blows him a kiss, and that makes him feel a little better. “Fire!”
At least James’ muscle memory makes it look like he knows what he’s doing. God, this is so embarrassing. It’s just Slytherins, ugly, pathetic Slytherins, so why is he so fucking afraid?
Avery gets hit with 3 separate balloons at once, and then he raises a gun. Like, a gun.
What. The. Fuck.
James kind of wants to do a heroic jump in front of Evans to save her from a bullet, but he also kind of doesn’t want to die.
(In the end, he doesn’t get a choice).
James has never been in as much fucking pain as he is in this exact moment. Avery has just shot him in the fucking kneecap and what if he can never play cricket again oh god his dad is going to kill him.
He chances a look down to make sure he’s absolutely, definitely going to die and oh god oh god oh god his trousers are stained red, red, red.
“Get up!” Evans hisses, and tugs at his arm. Sirius has his other.
“I can’t,” James sighs, “I’ve been shot.”
“With a paintball gun, you tosser,” Sirius says.
James sits up, takes in the splotch of red on Evans’ collar, the red matting the left side of Sirius’ hair. Paint. “Well, it still fucking hurts, Sirius.”
“Come on, we’re all getting up on the balcony so we have the high ground.”
James pulls himself up and says, “You were my brother An-” and then his knee buckles and he’s back on the ground. “Hey, I’m not fucking around right now, I think my knee’s dislocated, or, like, shattered into a million tiny pieces or whatever.”
“You owe me,” Sirius grunts, as he lifts James up, a little less than gently, and carries him into the house.
“What about-” James starts as Lily closes the glass door behind them.
“Flea’s trying to get rid of them,” Sirius says.
“I heard him say he was gonna phone the police,” Lily supplies from her position pressed up against the glass.
“Yeah, he loves that one,” James says, running a hand through his hair and gritting his teeth as he shifts to find a position on this bar stool that isn’t completely agonising. “‘James, eat your karela or I’ll call the police!’, ‘James, do your homework or I’ll call the police!’, ‘James, go to bed or I’ll call the police!’ I think he just wants to call the police.”
“I hate hiding in here,” Sirius says, pacing.
At least one of you has to be in motion at all times, Evans told James once. As soon as you stop, Sirius starts. It’s kind of spooky to watch. Sirius crosses to the glass door, tugs on the ends of his hair, returns to James. Spins a ring around on his finger. Goes back to the glass door.
Evans gives him a look like see?
She says, “Go find Euphemia, then. James needs to go to A&E.”
James.
His whole body turns towards her without his permission, like she’s some kind of beacon and he needs to be looking at her right now. Of course he manages to smack his arm against his knee in the process.
If he had a higher threshold for pain, maybe he wouldn’t have passed out just then.
He comes to with a brace around his knee, and Evans holding his hand. He pretends to be unconscious for a little while longer, but his mum catches him at it, and Evans takes her hand back.
(It’s the worst disaster yet).
The next summer, unease settles across them as they stand in their lines. Evans stands opposite James, grave until she gets this smirk on her face like she’s Gal Gadot and he’s just told her he reckons he can take her down. Maybe that smirk is how he already knows he’s completely and totally fucked, but he has to try anyway.
She tackles him as soon as the music starts, sends him sprawling on the grass, and pumps the water gun right into his face.
“Foul!” he calls, except he only gets out fou before he accidentally inhales a mouthful of water and has to hack it back up. Sirius hits Evans from behind with a balloon, a perfect distraction for James to scramble to his feet and wrestle the gun from her hands.
She legs it, and she’s so much faster than he’s ever given her credit for, but he’s an athlete, even with one fucked knee, so she only makes it most of the way across the yard before he catches up.
The collision is messy, but he slams into her and they both go flying. It’s a scramble to their feet, and whoever makes it vertical first is going to be the victor. Then he has her pinned up against the wall by the sitting room window, water dripping steadily from her braid, and she gives him that Gal Gadot look again.
(He holds on tight).
“Alright, Evans?” he whispers, and she angles her face up to him. He licks his lips, and she watches him do it. She brings a hand up to touch his cheek, and then–
She smacks the other hand down on his face, hard, and the balloon she’d been cradling bursts open. “Peachy,” she grins, and then she’s kissing him, and he’s kissing her, and it’s uncomfortably wet.
Remus finds them like that, and it takes him, Peter and Mary sixteen balloons to get them to break apart. When they do, he’s bright red, and Sirius gives him that you’re never going to hear the end of this look that he loves so very much.
(It’s a disaster).
(But James reckons he doesn’t mind so much).
The last summer, the summer between sixth form and university, they stand around and pretend they’ll be back next year. Maybe they will. Sirius holds a portable speaker above his head, and Gasolina pumps into the air, and then they go to war.
(And it is a triumph).
#jilychallenge#petalstofish#my writing#fic#jily#jily*#jinkies this was hard to finish#ive just been watching smallville instead of finishing this because??? im a dumbass#gold star for anyone besides ceren who gets the Secret Reference™#alrightanakin#alrightevans#alrightpotter#bartahllen#gxldentrio#jiilys#quidditchlesbian#padfootdidit#prongsno#prongsyouignoramus#snapslikethis#struttinglikapotter#withoutnarrative#gasolina
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