#he might receive some kicks right into his fucking eyeball

[kuberish]

honk mimimi

#G/t #my art #my doodle #g/t #giant tiny #giant/tiny #size difference #gt #sfw G/t #g/t community #g/t art #flams #Juna #shit like this calms my fucking soul #Juna is fine #but will Flams be fine? :^) #he might receive some kicks right into his fucking eyeball

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

//

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

//

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

//

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

//

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

//

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now.   So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together.  Is he doing alright?  You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people.  “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted.  “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again.  “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger.  “I mean, sapphires?  Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. 

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked.  “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too.  She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.  

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder.  “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat.  Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it.  "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen.  But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard.  "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide.  "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really.  I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up.  "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you.  "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

[wicked-mind]

Snips

Summary: You are assigned as Bucky’s partner. These are moments or as I like to call them, ‘snips,’ of moments together.

Word Count: 9.2k ( I got carried away )

Warnings: Swearing. Drinking. Some edibles in here. Pining. Serial Killer mentioned (you’re the daughter of one). Violence. 

Note: This contains ‘snips’ of your and Bucky’s relationship/partnership throughout two years together. This contains an idea sparked from Criminal Minds concerning Rossi’s storyline. There will probably more of the Bucky and Snips adventures in the future (:

All Writing Masterlist

Any likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated (: I love that shit!

— The Beginning —

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Bucky grumbled with his arms crossed. The last thing he wanted was a partner that wasn’t Steve. Hell, he’d even take the birdbrain, Sam. But Steve had this whole idea that everybody needed a designated partner to go on missions with. He thought it would be good for moral and help create a more open group between the avengers and agents than just having the ‘super squad.’ Bucky followed Steve up to the window here they watched some agents train, glaring down at them. He watched one young blonde haired male agent slip on the obstacle course, causing him to scoff, “Really Steve? They can’t even make it to the end.” Steve chuckles and shakes his head slightly, his arms crossed against his chest, “Don’t worry. You partner isn’t one of these agents. They’re new.” He said, starting to walk further down the hallway until they were looking at the advance training corse. It was set up with androids Tony created to test agents in real life situations. The weapons the androids used weren’t lethal as they were only rubber but left nasty welts and bruises. Steve looked down at the woman pinned behind a concrete barrier as three androids approached, “That’s your partner.”

Bucky looked down at the woman as the androids got closer, watcher her quickly move to take cover behind a metal crate. She was playing too defensively and the androids were cornering her, “God, Steve. She might as well be over with the newbies.” 

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment before back down to the woman, “Just watch, Buck.” He said. He knew Bucky had rolled his eyes but saw from the corner of his eyes that Bucky listened and was watching the woman. The woman peeked her head around the container for a split second before rubber bullets started to fire at her. She took a deep breath and readied her pistol. She looked up to Bucky and Steve for a split second a smirked before stepping out from behind the steel container, eyes closed, and firing three shots. All three bullets hit the three androids in their metal heads, causing them to fall. The woman opened one eye to look at them on the floor before shrugging to herself and walking off the course. Steve looked at Bucky, “Master marksman. Trained by Clint before he retired. She’s top of her class.”

Bucky rolls his eyes over to Steve, “She seems cocky.” He muttered out, arms still crossed against his chest as if to say he wasn’t budging on this partner thing.

Steve smiled slightly and patted Bucky on the shoulder, “Then you two already have something to bond over.” He said with one more pat before leaving Bucky to stand alone in his pout.

Bucky didn’t like very many people. He is not what you would classify as a ‘people person.’ But it’s understandable after all he has been through. So when the idea from Steve came around to set every avenger up with a partner, Bucky wasn’t thrilled about the idea. He didn’t need someone else around him all the time, especially on missions getting in the way. It was a hard first six months of Bucky and you getting to know each other after being partnered with you. You couldn’t even count the times that he called you annoying or a brat. He even called you close to useless one time before you took out a target sneaking up on him which he then apologized for, instead saying you’re just slightly useless. Eventually it seemed a tide had turned and the two of you began being friends. He even gave you a nickname, Snips, given to you due to all your snippy comments you made to him when you went on missions together and also due to you sniping targets at almost a record length.

What you didn’t know is that while you thought you two were becoming good friends, Bucky was developing feelings for you. He loved the way you snapped back to him, always having something to say. He liked having you always looking over his shoulder when on missions even though he spent the first months saying he didn’t need you. You two were like each other’s shadows. Something he loved most about his partnership with you was the trust. You two trusted each other with everything. Loyalty was a big thing to Bucky and the loyalty you gave off just made him like you that much more. Once reporter dared to say something about Bucky still being the Winter Soldier and he had to hold you back from her and drag you away as you yelled obscenities in his defense.

— The Cookie Situation —

There were aspects of the super serum that coursed through Bucky’s veins that he hated. One was that he could never get drunk to have a peaceful night without his nightmares no matter how much whiskey he drank. But he did find something to help take a little bit of the edge off. The super serum that ran through Bucky’s body was different than Steve’s. It was sort of a knock-off version which meant that with enough of the potent ingredient, edibles worked a little bit. He hadn’t really told anybody about this recent development and always had them hand delivered. They were custom baked for him meaning the nice lady who made them always just sent them in a clear container with no warning labels since Bucky was always the one to receive the package personally. His favorite were the peanut butter cookies and he hand an order to be hand delivered today but he had one problem. Bucky was stuck in a stupid meeting with the lead Avengers, going over the missions for the last month. 

You just happened to be taking a walk through the front of the facility when the delivery guy showed up with Bucky’s package. You smiled and signed for it, seeing the cookies through the clear container. You headed back into the facility to set the cookies in Bucky’s room, snatching one for yourself for being such a good delivery girl. 

Bucky looked down at his phone as it buzzed, seeing the message saying ‘My son delivered your cookies to a Ms. Y/L/N.’ Oh no. Oh god. There was no way you weren’t going to eat one of those cookies especially after Bucky had eaten the last slice of your peach pie a few days ago. He quickly sent you a message.

Thanks for picking up my package. Just leave them in my room. For the love of god don’t eat them.

He bit his lip and fiddled with his phone as he waited for you to text him back.

Don’t tell me what to do. You ate my pie.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Bucky had about another hour of this meeting left and meanwhile you probably ate one of his extremely potent cookies. He hoped to god that the cookies wouldn’t kick in for you until he was finished with his meeting. As soon as the meeting ended, Bucky quickly exited the briefing room and started his search for you. First place he looked was the kitchen for obvious reasons but you weren’t there. Instead, Peter Parker, Tony’s partner, was making a sandwich, “Parker! Have you seen Y/N around?”

Peter jumped slightly at the booming of Bucky’s voice, looking at him as he held his sandwich in his hands, “Uhm… Yeah.” He began, “She came in a little bit ago. Her eyeballs were huge, man. I asked her if she wanted a sandwich and she just backed out of the room. Weird right?”

Bucky let out a fake chuckle before swallowing hard, “Yeah, weird.” He muttered, “Well, if you see her come find me.” With that, Bucky turned and continued his search of the facility for you. He eventually gave up on trying to find you himself, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. where is Y/N at in the facility?”

“Ms. Y/L/N is currently in the south elevator.” The AI responded.

“Where is she headed?” Bucky asks.

“No where, Mr. Barnes. Ms. Y/L/N is just standing in the elevator on the second floor.”

Bucky let out a sigh before making his way to the south elevators, clicking the button from the fourth floor hoping you would sill be standing in the elevator. To his luck, there you were when the elevator doors opened standing in the corner with wide eyes looking at Bucky. He walks in and folds his arms, glaring down at you, “Snips. Did you eat one of my cookies?”

You open your mouth to talk but then shut it quickly. Everything was moving different around you like it was somewhere trapped between super slow motion and super speed. You couldn’t figure out which. You bit down on your bottom lip as you stared up at Bucky with blown pupils. When did he get so tall? You glance down to see if for some reason he was wearing high heels but only saw the same black combat boots he always wore perfectly tied.

“Snips!” Bucky said a little louder, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get you out of your trance. He already knew his answer from the way you were looking at him as if trying to discern if he was real or not. The cookies never made him even close to this but then again he was a super soldier.

“Noooo.” You said slowly, drawing out the vowel. You put your hands behind your back and pursed your lips together as you met his gaze.

Bucky ran his flesh hand over his face, trying to figure out what he should do with you when he heard the elevator doors open behind him to see Sam’s eyes flickering between the two. 

“What’re you two doin’ just standing in the elevator?” Sam asks, stepping inside and pressing a button to the fifth floor. As the elevator started to move, he folded his arms as he looked between you and Bucky, who had moved to stand beside you, suspiciously. After a moment of silence, Sam turned his gaze on Bucky, “What did you do?”

Bucky shook his head slightly, “I didn’t…. do anything.” He said which was true. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t give you possibly one of the most potent edible peanut butter cookies in the country. You took it upon yourself to eat the cookie.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Bucky as if to say ‘I don’t believe you’ but before he could dig a little deeper, the elevator doors dinged open and he walked out leaving you and Bucky alone in the elevator again.

Bucky let out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors shut leaving you two alone again. He clicks the seventh floor button so he could take you back to your room where nobody would catch you all wide eyed and zonked out of your brain. He waited for the doors to open before looking at you, “C’mon, Snips.” He said and started walking out of the elevator but as soon as he did you pushed the close door button and the button to the main floor. Bucky turned around to see the doors close, “Snips!” He yelled before hearing the elevator going down. He threw his head back in defeat and frustration, “Holy shit.” He muttered out before heading to take the stairs to find you once again.

With the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y., Bucky figured out you were outside in the small garden area in the backyard. Bucky quickly made his way out there to find you staring at all the different colors of bloomed tulips like it was some sort of miracle or act of god. He walked up and gently put a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N. We should get back to your room.”

You jumped slightly at his hand on your shoulder suddenly, tearing your gaze away from the rainbow of flowers before looking up at Bucky with wide eyes again, “Bucky!” You said before looking back at the flowers, “Do you think the flowers, like, know what color they are? Or are they just as surprised as we are when they bloom?”

Bucky dropped his head at your words. You were completely stoned and not cooperating. He looked back at you, “Snips. Let’s go back to your room and I’ll make you my ma’s spaghetti.” He bargained.

Your eyes immediately dart back to his at the mention of food, “Oooooh…. Noodles.” You said as a smile creeped across your lips, “And sauce. Bucky’s sauce and Bucky’s noodles…” You stifle a laughter at your own words then just start bursting out in laughter, “Bucky’s noodle.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, “Oh. My. God.” He hissed out at you. That’s it. He’s done trying to be reasonable with you right now. He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder as you’re still howling with laughter into his back and you didn’t stop laughing for a moment until he put you down in the safety of your own room, kicking the door shut behind him. Bucky watches you take a moment to catch your breath and your laughter turn into giggles until you stop laughing, “Snips, listen. That cookie you ate was a very potent edible, alright? You need to stay in here until your come down.”

You tilt your head at his words, narrowing your eyes onto his face to focus before they widened again, “Oh my god. You’re a secret stoner.” You said, pointing your finger at him.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “No I’m not. They barely do anything to me, just helps me sleep.” He defended, glaring at you, “Now sit your ass down and I’ll make the spaghetti.” He ordered, pointing over to the couch.

You salute him, “Yes, Sergeant.” You said with a smile before turning on your toes and plopping yourself down on your small couch and turning on the tv to some cartoon. You listened to Bucky go through the small kitchen in your apartment suite. Even though there was a full community kitchen downstairs, each room came with its own accommodations such as a full bathroom, a living room, a bedroom, and a kitchen as well. You could smell the marinara waft through the room and you made a small ‘mmmm’ noise at the smell before you were interrupted by your phone buzzing. You pulled it out and checked the message before your eyes widened. You launched yourself off the couch and went over to Bucky in the kitchen, “Bucky! Logan’s downstairs!” You whisper, pointing at your phone.

Bucky looked at you confused, “Who’s Logan?” He asks, “And why are you whispering?”

You ignored the second question, continuing in a whisper, “I was supposed to have a date with Logan tonight and he just texted me to say he’s here.” You tell him, still pointing at the phone.

Bucky couldn’t help but flinch as the word ‘date’ passed your lips. Date? You were going on a date with a stranger? He folded his arms, “Nope. No way you’re going out on a date tonight. Stark is still upset about the whole reporter thing, there is no way you’re going out stoned out of your mind. I’ll deal with it.” He said, snatching your phone from you so you couldn’t do anything stupid with it, “Stir the sauce, I’ll be back.”

You nod slowly to Bucky and pick up the wooden spoon, staring to stir the sauce and getting memorized in the act easily.

Bucky watched you for a moment and rolled his eyes at how easily amused you got stirring the red sauce. He walks out of your room and to the elevators, going to the main floor and out to the front of the facility where he saw a black car parked and a man sitting in the driver’s seat. Bucky tapped on the window until the man rolled the window down, “You Logan?” He asks, taking a good look at the man you were supposed to go on a date with. He looked tall, not very much muscle though and was pretty much the exact opposite of Bucky. He had blonde curly hair and big brown eyes.

Logan nods, “Yes, sir. I’m here to pick up Y/N?” He asks, fidgeting with the phone in his hands. He couldn’t lie, the six foot mass of muscle leaning over to peer at him through the window was intimidating. This must be Y/N’s partner she had told him about. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen tonight, kid.” Bucky muttered out, his lips drawn into a stern line as he looked around Logan’s car before back to Logan, “She’s sick. Sorry she didn’t tell you.” He said, turning to leave but then turned back at Logan, “And next time you ask a girl on a date, bring flowers and actually get out of the car.” He hissed out before making his way back into the facility. You deserved better in Bucky’s mind. You should be greeted with a smile and flowers at the doorstep before being walked to the car where the door would be opened for you. Stupid kids nowadays. Bucky made his way back up to your room where he found you still stirring the sauce, “All taken care of, Snips.”

You shook your head slightly as he came back inside and took the wooden spoon from you, “What’s taken care of?” You ask confused before remembering, “Ah right. Date night.” Bucky put the pasta into the boiling water, “He’s a punk anyway. You deserve better.” He grumbled out but you were already entranced back to the cartoon playing on the tv. He watched you for a moment, wondering what it would be like for him to be on your level. You were happy about anything and found everything interesting or funny. The cookies never did that to him. Once the pasta was done, he set up two servings and slumped on the couch with you, passing you your plate. He watched the dumb cartoon with you, smiling when you would laugh at things he didn’t really think were that funny. Bucky loved the way you laughed, especially right now. It was pure happiness that rang in your voice. When dinner was done, Bucky did the dishes and cleaned up everything before settling back on the couch beside you. You had changed the cartoon to some comedy movie and were snuggled up half asleep on the couch. You gravitated towards his natural warmth, leaning your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his right muscular one. This was the moment Bucky decided he was unbelievably and unbearable in love with you. The way you curled up against him so easily. The way you looked sleeping comfortably against him like you knew he was there to help you, to keep you safe. 

— Birthdays Are The Worst —

Today was special. It was your first birthday as part of the avengers and Wanda as well as Natasha had made a deal about throwing you a surprise breakfast followed by a party later that night. You didn’t like birthdays. It was always the worst day of the year. You used to love your birthday- the cake, gifts, surprises but that changed when you were fifteen. You groaned awake at the sound of your alarm, picking up the clock from the bedside table and yanking the cord out of the wall to shut it up before tossing it at the wall for good measure. You pulled yourself out of bed, already defeated by this day. You managed to stomp yourself into your bathroom without throwing anything else and showered, brushed your teeth, and got yourself ready for the day. You took one last look in the mirror at yourself before walking out of your bedroom and heading to the kitchen glaring at the floor. You almost jumped out of your skin when everybody yelled ‘SURPRISE! Happy birthday!’ You put your hand to your chest as if they gave you a heart attack before looking all of them over. Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Vision, Bucky, and Sam as well as the rest of their partners were there with party hats on and mimosas in their hands with big smiles on their faces. You looked all of them over for a moment standing in place before seeing an unopened champagne bottle on the table behind them. You took a deep breath and stomped over, grabbing the bottle by the neck before turning back to head to your room without a word to anybody. 

Everybody watched you go until the door slammed behind you to your room. Natasha looked over at everybody else, “Okay… What just happened?” She asks confused.

Vision tilts his head slightly, “It seems she is not a fan of birthdays or surprises.”

Steve looked towards Bucky, “Maybe you should go talk with her.” He said, his brow pulled together to create a pinch in his forehead. 

Bucky sighs, “Yeah… I got it.” He says, taking off his party hat and chucking it on the table before heading down the hallway and turning the corner to stand outside your bedroom door. He sighs and knocks softly, “Snips? Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

“Nope!”

Bucky sighs again, “Well, do you at least need help with the cork? You can never do it right and you don’t need to be losin' an eye.”

There was silence for a moment from you before you finally said, “That would be wise.”

Bucky opened your door slowly and walked in, seeing you sitting on the bed untwisting the metal that kept the cork in place in the bottle. He shuts the door behind him and approaches you to take the bottle, popping the cork without causing any foam and passing it back to you. He watched you take a bigger swallow than you probably should’ve and folds his arms, “So which is it? Hate birthdays or surprises? Because I know you like pancakes.”

You look up at Bucky for a moment then back to the champagne bottle, “I don’t hate birthdays or surprises. I just hate my birthday.” You said softly, “Doesn’t help that Logan dropped his phone in the ocean on his stupid vacation so all I got was a text from some random number that said ‘Happy Birthday! Heart, Logan.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. That stupid idiot boyfriend of yours being stupid again, not a surprise. He couldn’t count the times he’s been annoyed at Logan’s late night phone calls with you, the giggle you’d make when you got a message from him, or the way you’d scrunch your nose when he pissed you off. But the thing that annoyed him most was when Logan would scroll through his phone while you watched movies in the living room with everybody else as you curled up next to him as if trying to grasp his attention. Bucky always ended up watching your movements towards Logan more than the movies, he couldn’t even tell you the character’s names in half the movies from being so focused on you. This just added to the list of why he hated Logan, “Your boyfriend is an idiot.” He said, keeping his arms crossed as he watched you take another sip of the champagne, “Why do you hate your birthday?”

You sigh softly, biting your bottom lip. You didn’t want to answer that question. 

“C’mon, Snips.” Bucky said, unfolding his arms and sitting next to you, “It’s me. We tell each other everything.” That was true. You two had a deeper trust than most partners did and you did tell him everything. It’s what made you two the most successful pair when it came to missions even if you two were just as equally reckless. You were always completely open and honest with each other about personal things as well as telling the other when they were being stupid.

You sigh and look up at him from the corner of your eyes, “I made a deal to do something every year on my birthday since I was fifteen. It’s difficult to explain. I’ll just bring you with me.”

Bucky simply nodded, knowing you didn’t want to speak about it and that you would show him the truth soon. He had learned quickly that pressing you wasn’t a good route to go down. You two sat in silence for a while as he watched you take a few more sips of champagne before standing up like you were ready to go. There was already a car with a driver in the front lot waiting to take you to your destination. The drive was just as quiet with Bucky observing the surroundings, trying to figure out where you two were going. But his brow pulled together in confusion when he saw the car pull into a federal maximum security prison, “Y/N, what are we doing here?”

You look over at him, “I’ll explain when we get inside.” You said simply, waiting for the car to pull to a stop to get out. Bucky was right on your heels as you entered, following you through all the security check points before they took you to a meeting room. You looked through the one way glass window as guards brought an older man in with his wrists cuffed as well as his ankles.

Bucky watched the man then looked down at you, “Alright, Snips. What’re we doin’ in a prison on your birthday?”

You keep your eyes on the man who took a seat on one side of the table, a grin on his lips and tapping his fingers on the table as if he was waiting, “Have you ever heard of The Domino Killer?” You ask looking up to Bucky who shook his head, “He was an active serial killer when you were with Hydra so that doesn’t surprise me. He was called the Domino Killer because he would leave hand crafted dominos in the pockets of his victims. He was charged with 32 counts of murder after his daughter turned him in. But he has way more than 32 victims.”

Bucky listened, confusion still written all across his features as he looked at you, “And what does that have to do with you?”

You took a deep breath, “Because he’s my dad. I’m the one that turned him in.” You said softly, “He was supposed to get the death penalty until he made a deal with the DA. He would confess another murder with the location of a body once a year and to one person. Nobody knows about any of this except you. Not even Logan.”

Bucky listened, putting the pieces together, “You’re telling me that asshole in there makes you come here on your birthday to confess a murder to you?” He asks shocked, then shook his head, “No, Y/N. You’re not doing that this year. Forget ‘bout him, he’s nothing.”

You look at Bucky and shook your head, “I have to, Buck. Who knows how many bodies are out there with families waiting to figure out what happened to them… I have to give some sort of peace and if that means sitting across from him while he writes his confession, I’ll do it.” You told him and walked out the door before he could respond. You knew he would watch from behind the glass. You entered the room with your father, swallowing hard and sitting across from him, “Hi, dad.”

Your father grinned, “My beautiful Y/N! Happy birthday, my sweet girl.” He said, moving his hands across the table to take yours but you lean back away. He narrows his eyes at you, “Can smell the alcohol on you, m’dear. Isn’t it a little early for that?”

You grimaced at him, “Yeah, well, it’s my birthday and I can drink when I want. Let’s get to it,” You say, sliding a pencil and the notebook over to him, “Write it down. Every detail.”

Your father sighs, picking up the pencil and starting to write as he spoke, “I ain’t sure why you gotta make this so difficult.” He said, keeping the pencil gliding across the notebook, “All I asked was to see ya once a year on your birthday and ya act like it’s torture.”

“It is.” You replied shortly, keeping your gaze on the notebook instead of meeting his face.

Your father stops writing and looks at you, pointing the pencil at you, “I never treated you badly, little girl.” He reminded, “You had everything your heart could desire ’til you turned me in.”

“What you did was wrong.” You said, meeting his gaze, “Keep writing.”

Bucky watched through the window, his arms crossed and nostrils flaring at your conversation with the man who was your father. He had no idea this was what your father was like, there was nothing about this in your file but it did happen when you were a minor. You must’ve taken your mother’s name after the whole ordeal. Bucky watched you two have short replies back and forth until your father was done writing. He left the room to meet you outside the room as you handed the notebook to the district attorney who thanked you. He walked up and looked down at you with soft eyes, “You alright, Snips?”

You look up at him and nod slightly, “Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s get outta here.”

The rest of your birthday was better. Bucky had made sure to cancel the party Natasha and Wanda had planned for you tonight and instead just had a movie night with everybody. Bucky couldn’t help but feel pity for you- for what you went through at such a young age being the daughter of a prolific serial killer. But he related to the pain of being connected to something you didn’t want to be apart of or had no choice in being apart of. He commended your bravery silently, wondering what it was like for you to have to turn your father in at such a young age. 

— A Change in the Weather —

The current mission you were on together wasn’t exactly going to plan like you two thought it would. Sure, you got the information needed but you didn’t notice the missile that came and struck the quinjet before it was too late and all the flares were used. You and Bucky had to jump out of the back before the missile made contact. The terrain wasn’t the best to be stuck in with no supplies. It was freezing temperatures and snowing. It didn’t help that the two of you had to jump into a lake either. Bucky pulled you from the water, swimming to the shore and carrying you over the slippery rocks as you coughed up water that had been stuck in your lungs. 

“You alright, Snips?” Bucky asks, gently setting you back on your feet but keeping an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. This wasn’t the first time you two had ended up crashing a jet and having to be in the middle of nowhere but the last time was in a nice warm forest area not in a blizzard.

You nod, coughing a little more before taking a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m good.” You said with a half smile and a thumbs up. The cold wind quickly nipped at your wet skin, making you shiver, “Tony’s gonna be pissed about the jet. We gotta get out of this storm or we are going to be popsicles.”

Bucky nods, narrowing his eyes as he looked around, “We should head towards the mountains. Maybe we can find a cave to sit tight in until the storm passes and someone comes to find us. The emergency alarm should’ve been alerted with the jet went down.” He said, removing his arm from your waist and starting a slow stride towards the mountains. 

You nod and follow beside him, keeping up with his strides. It wasn’t long until your teeth were chattering, your wet clothes sticking to your cold skin like ice. You look up at the mountain through the blizzard, only about another mile to go. Your legs started to feel numb and you had no idea how you were still moving them at this point. You stopped, leaning yourself against a tree.

Bucky stopped and looked back at you, “You good?” He asks, not really affected by the cold. He ran hot even if the end of his hair had turned into small icicles. Concern was etched into his features at how cold and weak you looked.

You nod, blinking slowly, “Yeah…” You said softly, your breath shaking from how cold you were. You used your hand to push you away from the tree but your legs betrayed you- instead of putting one foot in front of the other you just collapsed face first into the snow with a groan.

Bucky would’ve laughed at you but he knew your body couldn’t take the cold like his could. He leans down beside you, pulling you up and onto his back with ease, “Hold on, Snips. Not that far now.” He said, pulling your legs around his waist as he piggybacked you the rest of the way to the mountain. He could hear your teeth chattering together in his ear and could feel you shaking violently from the cold, “You need to stay awake.”

“I’m trying…” You whisper towards him between your shivering, “Talk to me about something… How about your date with the girl from accounting? What was her name… Lydia?”

“Lindsey.” Bucky corrected with a small chuckle as he continued stomping through the deep snow, “Ah, I bailed last minute.”

You closed your eyes but listened to him, “What? No! Why? Lindsey seemed nice.” You say softly to him. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders a little tighter. Bucky was warm even with all the snow collecting on you two. 

Bucky shrugs slightly, his eyes scanning the mountain for any openings for a cave, “She wasn’t really my type.” He replied. 

“What is your type?” You ask, your voice getting softer and more shaky. You needed to get out of this cold. Your fingers and legs were numb and you could feel your suit practically turning to ice on your skin. 

You. Everything that you are. That’s my type. That’s what Bucky wanted to say but instead he settled with, “I’m not sure. I’ll know when I see it though.” He stopped in front of the mountain, looking at the wall but seeing no openings, “Snips, I’m gonna put you down for a minute and run ahead to look around for a cave.” He said, kneeling down and letting you slide off his back onto a rock. He turned and looked at you, staying at your eye level as you seated yourself on the rock with your arms wrapped around your body for any type of warmth, “Hey, you stay awake.” He said, placing a finger under your chin and pulling your face upwards to meet his gaze with your drooping eyes, “I mean it, Snips. Stay. Awake. I won’t be gone long, stay here and wait for me.”

You nod, “Okay. Staying awake.” You said with a small smile to him before watching him run off along the mountain side to look for a cave. Once his figure disappeared into the white of the blizzard, you pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, tucking your head onto your knees. So… Cold… You thought. You thought you couldn’t get any colder but each passing second proved you wrong, “Stay awake…” You whisper to yourself, lifting your head up. Your vision was blurry as you looked for Bucky through the snow. You blinked a few times, trying to keep the sleep from taking over but you fell over into the snow, looking up to the white sky before darkness surrounded you and you did that thing you weren’t supposed to do. You fell asleep.

Bucky eventually found a cave a little away from where he left you. He ran back to the rock he left you on, groaning when he saw you weren’t sitting there, “Dammit, Y/N.” He growled out, looking around. He paused for a moment and listened, hearing your faint heartbeat and breathing. At first he thought you had wandered off then he heard the soft sounds before seeing some of your fingers sticking out from under the snow beside the rock. He ran over and dropped to his knees, pulling on your arm until you were out of the snow. He swings you up into his arms, pulling you close, “C’mon, doll. Wake up.” He muttered as he quickly started a run to the cave he had found earlier. He had to get you out of this blizzard before you were past the point of waking up again. He walked into the cave, still holding you close as he sat down as far away from the entrance as he could. He held you tightly against his chest as he sat on the floor, rubbing your back as he listened to your shaky breath and soft heartbeat, “Snips, wake up for me.” He muttered over to you.

You adjusted slightly in his grasp, blinking yourself awake. Your icy eyelashes ripped apart from each other, then you huddled towards the warmth in front of you, pressing your face into Bucky’s chest, “I’m awake..” 

“Thank god. You had me worried there.” Bucky breathed out, keeping his hands running along your back, “Gonna warm you up a little more. No more sleeping. As soon as this storm lets up, someone will come get us. As soon as the jet went down it sent a signal.”

“I’m tired, Buck…” You whisper out against his chest, closing your eyes again at his warmth. 

Bucky leans his chin on the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer, “I know. Just stay awake. Let’s talk about… Logan. How’d your vacation with him go last month?” He asks. Truth is, Bucky didn’t want to talk about that annoying boyfriend of yours that always made you laugh and left kisses on the side of your head, but he had to keep you awake. 

You sigh softly, “It didn’t… I broke up with Logan in the airport. I went alone.” You mumble out, “Turns out New Orleans is a pretty good place to be stuck alone. Everybody was friendly and it’s easier to get free drinks when you’re single and sad looking.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. How could you keep this from him? Here he was, pining over you everyday he had to watch you with that stupid boyfriend. The whole time you were supposed to be on vacation he couldn’t help but be jealous over the fact that you were probably having a romantic time tangled in the sheets with Logan but apparently that wasn’t the case. He wished he would’ve known, he would have taken you to New Orleans and enjoyed it with you, “Why didn’t you tell me, Snips?”

“I didn’t think it was that important.” You say, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, “Plus I didn’t want to talk about the reason we broke up in the first place.” Logan had always been jealous of how close you and Bucky were. Logan claimed that you spent too much time with the tin-man even though you explained to him every time you were partners, best friends and that it wasn’t anything he thought. He told you how he would always notice Bucky staring at you from across a room like he was just waiting to get a moment alone with you. The way Bucky would take any chance to make you smile even if Logan was standing right there. He hated the inside jokes you had with Bucky. Logan had said he hated how you were his ‘partner’ and would go off on missions for weeks at a time alone together. 

Bucky frowned slightly at you. You didn’t tell him this. You told him everything- even the dark bits nobody knew about like your dad. But you couldn’t tell him something as simple as a break-up with that moron Logan? He keeps his eyes on you huddled into the warmth of his chest, “Let’s talk about it.” He said, “We don’t have anythin’ else to talk about and you need to stay awake.”

You sigh and look up to him, “We were at the airport and I was late because I saying goodbye to you. That started a fight with Logan and he went in saying he doesn’t trust you with me and hated that we spent so much time together. Then he said I should ask for a new partner instead of being with the Winter Soldier.” You sigh again, “I may have punched him and got locked in the airport jail for twenty four hours before driving myself to New Orleans.”

Bucky listened, his jaw dropping slightly again at the story, “You got arrested punching your boyfriend?” He asks, a slight bit of pride filling his chest at the fact you defended him and punched Logan. 

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected quickly, “And yeah… That’s why Tony was scolding me when I got back from vacation. Apparently I’m already on thin ice because of the whole journalist thing still and getting arrested in a public airport was sort of a big deal.”

Bucky smiles slightly, “Well, I’m proud of ya’.” He said down to you, “It’s about time you got rid of that dumb boyfriend of yours.”

You chuckle slightly, “Yeah… I guess so.” You mutter out quietly.

Bucky eventually lost hope in keeping you awake. Every time you drifted to sleep and he woke you up, you were out in an instant afterwards shivering against his warm body. The only thing he could do was hold you as close to him as possible, trying to keep you warm. He watched your lips slowly turning blue as you let out shivering breathes. Eventually the storm did let up after a while and Bucky could hear a quinjet incoming towards their location. He stood up with you still wrapped in his arms, carrying you towards the noise where Steve and Natasha were waiting at the quinjet. Bucky carried you inside and watched as Natasha inserted an IV into your arm to pump warm fluids through your body as well as wrapping you in heating blankets. There isn’t a word to describe the relief Bucky felt at washing your skin pinked up as well as your lips from the warmth, listening to your breaths grow less ragged and your shivering slowly subside. He planned on giving you a few weeks to recover from almost freezing to death as well as your recent break up before he would take the chance of asking you out.

— I Hate Trains—

Bucky had finally built the courage up to at least ask you out for dinner, or maybe make you dinner and watch a movie together. He hadn’t felt this jittery in a long time. He had been nervous about this for the past week, trying to figure out the perfect way to ask you out but not make it sound like just a friend hang out type of thing. But before he could ask, you two were sent by Tony and Steve on a mission. So here you two were sitting on opposite ends of a train after a random tip came in that there were dangerous Hydra affiliates traveling on the same train. You sat in your seat, pretending to read a book but keeping an eye out around you. The train was pretty much empty besides a few travelers. You looked down and pulled the book up to your nose, speaking into your earpiece to Bucky, “You alright? I know you hate trains.”

Bucky was sitting a few train cars over at the bar, drinking a whiskey and keeping a look out for anybody suspicious. He hears your words in his earpiece and has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, “Shut up, Snips. I’m fine.” He muttered out and looked around slowly, “Everything’s good over here.”

“Good here too.” You mutter out back into the earpiece.

Bucky looked up as a new bartender from the wait staff came and poured him another whiskey. Bucky grumbled out a thanks to the bartender before throwing back the liquid in a single swallow. It hit him like a boulder instantly, his stomach twisting and his vision becoming blurred. He stood up and stumbled out of his stool, looking at the bartender who had a gun pulled out pointing right at him, “Snips… Trouble.”

As soon you heard there was trouble, you threw your book down and started in a rush to get to Bucky a few train cars down. You were quickly blocked by passengers and staff that were Hydra agents undercover. You pulled out your knife and made quick work, knocking them each back as you progressed through the train cars to get to Bucky. Some of the agents landed some blows to your face and stomach but nothing you couldn’t handle. When you managed to get to the train car, you quickly locked the door behind you and slowly walked down the corridor until you saw Bucky slumped in a chair dazed looking. You quickly rush over to him, “Buck, you alright?”

Bucky looked at you, he was seeing three of you staring at him with a concerned look and your voice sounded like you were far away. Whatever the bartender had slipped into his drink was strong enough to garble his brain and make his body feel numb, “Look out.” He muttered out, seeing an agent coming up behind you.

You quickly turn, punch the approaching agent square in the jaw before kicking him back. But just as the Hydra motto went: cut off one head and it’ll be replaced with two more. More agents started advancing at you. You pulled out your knives and fought them the best you could, trying to keep them away from Bucky at all costs. One agent managed to land a good punch to your ribs, causing you to drop to the floor with a yelp.

“Snips!” Bucky yelled in a slur, seeing you get beaten. He still saw three of you but could make out the red bruises that were forming along your jaw as well as the split lip.

You stood slowly, glaring at the four Hydra agents that remained. You kept yourself standing in front of Bucky, knowing he was probably the target they came for. You rolled your shoulders, pulling out your two blades for each hand, “You want him? Gotta go through me…” You hissed out at them. Your ribs ached, knowing you probably had a few cracked and you had taken quite a beating with it being many of them against you. But your will is strong and you wouldn’t let them take Bucky away. He was your partner. Your best friend. Your person. 

Bucky watched as you continued to try and fight the Hydra agents to defend him. He clicked his earpiece, “Sam.. Steve… Anybody we need immediate extraction… I’m down.” He said softly before pushing himself to his feet. He stabilized himself by holding onto the tops of the seats as he watched you take a knee to the same spot from before on your ribs followed by a hard punch to your jaw that made you fall to the ground. As much as it swelled him with pride to see you fight tooth and nail for him, it also caused him pain seeing you take the beatings that were probably meant for him. He stumbled over to the Hydra agent that floored you and landed a hard punch with his vibranium arm to the agent’s face, causing him to fly back and topple over some other agents. With still blurry vision and stumbled steps, he picks you up carefully, “I got you, sweetheart.” He murmured out to you before turning and looking at the emergency door for the train. He walks over to it, adjusting to hold you in his right arm while he pried the emergency door off the hinges, tossing it over at the Hydra agents that were still trying to get to their feet, “Hold on tight, Snips.” He said, holding you to his chest and tucking your head into his arms before taking a jump off the moving train, ducking and rolling as he hit the hard dirt ground.

The next thing you remember after being floored by the enemy agent was staring at the ceiling of the quinjet and Sam trying to talk to you. He sounded like he was underwater and far away, you couldn’t make out his words very well. You look over to across the jet where you saw Steve talking to Bucky who was laying across the floor. When Bucky’s eyes met yours, he stopped mid sentence and tried to get up to go over to you but was held back down by Steve. You reached your arm a little to reach your hand out to him before passing out again.

Sam and Steve got you and Bucky back to the facility and to the med-bay where Dr. Cho was waiting. You were immediately given morphine while they waited for your x-rays to be done of your ribs. They worked on Bucky but whatever Hydra had slipped him was already wearing off and the wounds he sustained from jumping off the moving train were already healing. He was more concerned with how you were doing and the doctors informed him you were being well taken care of. After you were all patched up and weened off of the morphine, you woke up to see Bucky sitting beside you, glaring at you. You groaned slightly and lifted your hand to rub the side of your head, “What’s with the look, Sergeant?” You mumble out.

“You’re an idiot, Y/N.” Bucky hissed out at you much harsher than he originally wanted it to sound. He looked over your bruised face for a moment before his gaze softened, “Taking on all those agents alone was a stupid move. You could’ve been killed.”

“Okay first off, I didn’t die.” You said, looking over to him, “And two, you jumped off a moving train. Don’t talk to me about stupid.” You squirmed your way to sit up in the medical bed with a slight wince at the movement of your ribs, “What did you want me to do, Buck? Just let them kill you? Or worse, take you?” You shook your head at the thought. You couldn’t lose Bucky, “I’ll never let that happen.”

Bucky sighs as he listens to you. Your loyalty to him was unwavering, nothing could tear it down even if it meant you staring death in the eyes, “I’m sorry, Snips.” He said softly, meeting your gaze, “Just seeing you get hurt and not being able to do anything about it…” He flinched at the memories of you getting knocked down to the floor, getting up every time to defend him, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

“Well, I’m still here. Didn’t die remember?” You say, reaching out and placing your hand on his gently, “You’re not losing me and I’m not losing you. Ever. You’re my person, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart swelled as you called him your person. That’s all he ever wanted to be in every definition of the term. He wanted to be your best friend. Your safe place. Your only love. Your person. He intertwined his fingers with yours slowly and managed to give you a half smile, “And you’re my person, Y/N.” He said back to you before swallowing hard, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. I was actually going to ask you before then we got assigned on the mission…” He paused, watching you look at him curiously with an eyebrow raised, “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Bucky wanted to go on a date… with you? I mean, yes, you’ve thought about it a few times but he was your partner and thought it would be unprofessional to date a coworker let alone your partner which is why you tried dating a civilian like Logan but that obviously didn’t go well. Bucky was a beautiful man, you’ve known that since the first time you laid eyes on him. He had a matching attitude to yours and he was so easy to be around. You watched Bucky stare at you with nervous eyes about what your reaction would be, “Bucky… I…” You began, trying to find your words.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said, looking away from you in a defeated fashion but kept ahold of your hand tightly as if he never wanted to let you go. He just wanted you to be happy and if that meant just being your best friend and partner, that’s what he would do.

You bit your lip for a moment before speaking, “What I was going to say was that this is a really awkward moment to be asking me out.” You said softly with a small smile, “You just asking me out because you thought I was gonna die? Or you feel pity for me getting the shit beat outta myself for you?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you as you spoke. You were smiling and that wasn’t a no. You were being snippy with him and it caused a small smile to appear on his face as he squeezed your hand, “Neither, doll.” He told you confidently, “Like I said, was going to ask you before the mission and before I felt pity for you.”

You laugh a little, wincing slightly at the pain your ribs from the action but keeping your smile on your lips, “Alright, Buck.” You told him once you stopped laughing, “I would love to go on a date with you. But I’m not going anywhere until my face is healed up.”

Bucky beams at your answer, grinning like a teenage boy who just had his first kiss. This was just as good as a first kiss. You were the first one he’s actually felt something for since the 40’s. You were his person as much as he was yours, “Don’t worry about that, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He said, reaching up his free hand to sweep some hair from your face with his vibranium fingers, “Besides, I rather cook for you.”

You smile at him, “Oh that sounds good.” You reply before an obnoxious smile covered your features, “More of Bucky’s noodle.”

Bucky laughed slightly and shook his head, “Dammit, Snips.” He chuckled out, “You gotta stop saying that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary@bibliophilewednesday @redhairedfeistynerd​ @princessnnylzays​

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction

[disgruntledspacedad]

Save a Horse 

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: (fluff, slice of life) You ride a horse. Javi has a heart attack. 

words: 2kish

warnings: language. Utter ignorance of ranch life, but Ears is enthusiastic, at least. No horses were harmed in the writing of this fic.

a/n: unbeta’d.

It was Pop’s idea to start with. 

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Orejas?” he breaks the easy morning silence suddenly, resting his empty mug on the counter and shooting you an expression that can only be described as conspiratorial.

“No,” you answer honestly, thinking wryly that Pop certainly knows how to catch your attention. 

Beside you, Javi stiffens, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you. He’s been a little jumpy ever since he’d got you back, and with good reason, really. You rest a reassuring hand on his thigh and squeeze, receiving just as much comfort from the gesture as you’re offering.

This man is your rock.

Pop is still watching you expectantly, and you feel your lips tug upward. It’s so easy to smile at Chucho Peña. “But I’m game to try anything twice.”

Pop grins, and Javi blusters a deep sigh.

It’s nice outside. For being early November, the weather is surprisingly mild in Laredo, the air smelling of grass and hay and maybe a little bit of horse, but in a good way. The sunshine is warm on your skin, the sky extending bright blue as far as you can see. 

Pop leads you to the stables, prattling on about horses and saddles and other things that you don’t understand in the slightest. Javi follows silently, catching your fingers in a vice grip. His jaw is tense, his brow furrowed in that little frown that seems to be permanently affixed to his face ever since Colombia.

Your heart flip flops, and you stop, pulling him close enough to rest your head on his chest. Automatically, Javi’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in, and he sighs deeply into your hair. 

“Freaking out,” you remind him gently. 

He huffs a tiny laugh. “I know.”

You lift your lips for a quick kiss, and Javi obliges eagerly. “It’s going to be okay, babe,” you murmur as you pull away. 

“I know,” he repeats softly, looking for all the world like he really doesn’t. 

“Come on.” You tug at him, noticing Pop carefully not watching you in the distance. “It’ll be fun.”

“I doubt that,” Javi mutters darkly, but he follows anyway.

“This is Caballo,” Pop announces, stopping in front of a freakishly huge black stallion.

Creative, you almost say aloud, reminding yourself to be nice just in time. This man is as good as your father-in-law. It’s probably wise to keep that favorable impression you’ve made.

As if sensing your thought, Pop winks at you. “Javier named him.”

You shoot a little smirk in Javi’s direction, knowing that he���ll pick up on your teasing. He doesn’t rise to your bait, though, the killjoy.

In no time at all, the horses are saddled up and ready to go. Javi is perched atop a cream-colored mare, Cerveza, and Caballo is all yours.

Pop declines to ride, preferring to supervise you from the ground. “He’s very gentle, Orejas,” he tells you as he helps you into the saddle. “Won’t throw you or buck. Not like Cerveza.” He winks up at you. “Es una pequeña perra.”

Together, you laugh. You’ve picked up on enough Spanish curses during your time in Colombia to get the message.

Javi and Pop offer you some last-second advice - relax, sit up straight, and keep the reigns loose - and then you’re off, plod-plod-ploding at a mind-numbingly sedate pace around the fence line. 

By the third lap, you are thoroughly, utterly, completely bored.

“I think I’m ready to go faster!” you shout to Pop. “Can I make him go faster?”

Pop tips his hat at you, shooting you a toothy grin. “Tap him on the sides with your heels, Orejas, and say, ‘giddap!’”

“Gently,” Javi warns you sharply.

You shoot him a glare that’s only half-mocking. As if you’d just kick this poor horse in the ribs - god, it’s like Javi doesn’t know you at all.

“Giddap,” you say in your most dignified voice, nudging Caballo with your feet like Pop had told you. Caballo jolts forward, cantering half-heartedly for a couple of steps, then slowing to a walk with a disdainful snort. 

Ugh. You toss a questioning glance back at Javi. He’s doing a very poor job of hiding his grin.

Motherfucker.

Pop is smiling, too. “Try it with a little more authority, Orejas!” he advises. “He’s a big animal, and proud. You’ve got to tell him what to do, not ask politely.” 

 Javi snorts. ”Shouldn’t be too hard.”

You whip around to stare at him, lurching forward when Caballo reacts to your sudden shift in body weight. Behind you, Javi breaks out into snickers.

Well, then.

Exasperated, you decide that Javier Peña is far more of a big, dumb, proud animal than the horse you’re riding, and you manage to climb atop him every day and submit him to your will just fine.

Caballo shouldn’t be a problem. 

You square your shoulders, determined to get it right this time, and summon every John Wayne movie you’ve ever seen to the forefront of your mind. It’s not an impressive anthology to pull from - you’re more of a sci-fi kind of girl - but it’s more than enough to get a clear picture in your head of what needs to happen. 

You gather the reigns in one hand, straighten your back, and take a deep breath. 

“Hyah!”

Caballo is off like a shot, surging forward with an enthusiasm that sends your body rocketing backwards. Your feet fly up, suddenly free of the stirrups, and its all you can do to hold like mad to the reigns with your right hand - why the fuck did you decide one hand was better, anyway?? - while your left flaps free in the wind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” you tell Caballo. You’re not begging, you’re not.

You’re vaguely aware of shouts behind you.

You manage to pitch forward just enough to avoid falling off the ass-end of the horse, but it’s a near thing. Caballo is in a full-out gallop, lungs chugging beneath you, mane flapping in the wind and stinging your eyeballs. You lean in and hold on for dear life, and goddamn, none of those westerns ever mention just how rough it is on horseback. You are going to be so fucking sore tomorrow, ass, tits, and bits, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, because you are riding this horse, dammit.

You realize your mistake a moment later. Pride goeth before the fall, and your feet had shaken free of the stirrups on Caballo’s initial leap forward. Now, your legs are free-floating, flap, flap, flapping in the wind, and each bounce is sending you just a hair further over to the side. 

Oh shit shit shit.

You flail, arching your toes in a desperate attempt to find purchase somewhere, but it’s a done deal. Grip with your knees, some primal instinct screams, or maybe that’s just Javi - you think he might be chasing you in the background.

By this point, you’re flat sideways on Caballo’s body, curled up more on his ribs than his back. Flop flop flop. He hasn’t slowed one bit, and you realize with sudden, horrifying clarity that gravity is a fucking bitch, and it’s a matter of where, not if or when, you fall.

You decide to do things on your own terms and let go, dumb as it may be. You pitch forward and roll, tucking your shoulder into the ground like your gymnastics teacher had taught you when you were six. There’s a horrifying moment of chaos and pain - the world is spinning, nothing is under your control, and the breath is knocked completely from you, but it’s over in an instant, and you’re left staring at the shockingly blue sky, blinking into the sunlight and listening to the receding hoof-falls of that goddamned horse.

“Ears! Ears! Ears!” Javi is making a lot of fucking noise somewhere over your shoulder. 

The ridiculousness of the situation hits you all at once, along with a truckload of relief. You relive it all in an instant, picturing how utterly fucking stupid you must have looked, clinging to a runaway horse with your hair wild in the wind and your short little legs bouncing like chicken wings, and before you can find your way to your feet again, you’re laughing so hard that you can’t fucking breathe, which is almost a problem, because there wasn’t much air left in you to begin with -

Javi’s kneeling over you now, blocking the sun with his body, panting hard. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Ears, are you okay?”

You can’t stop laughing long enough to answer him. You curl up in a ball on your side, trying push yourself up on your elbows, but you can’t.

“Oh… Oh my… Oh my god,” you stutter, breathless. 

Beside you, the tension bleeds from Javi’s body in one long, broken sigh. You realize that he’s laughing, too. He leans his forehead into your shoulder, slumping into you bonelessly.

“I… I couldn’t… the fucking foot loops -” in your discombobulated state, the word ‘stirrup’ is lost to you. “My feet, Javi!”

He shakes his head into your neck, hot little breaths puffing on your bare skin. “I know,” he giggles, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw. “I saw.”

You try to stagger upright and don’t quite manage it. You’re feeling dizzy, almost a little drunk, but before you can stumble again, Javi is right there, hauling you to your feet and catching your lips in a deep, gentle kiss.

“You.” Javi breathes into you, his mustache tickling at your lip, and you lean heavily against him, allowing him to do most of the work of holding you up. “Ridiculous girl,” more kisses, “What do you have against me, huh?” a soft nip at the corner of your mouth, “It’s like you just try to scare the life out of me, Ears.”

“Dunno.” Your voice trembles, and you’re unsure whether that’s leftover adrenaline or the way Javi’s gigantic hands are stroking possessively at your ribcage. The flannel he’s wearing is worn soft with age, and you nuzzle into it, sighing. “It’s a hobby, I guess.”

“I can think of better hobbies,” Javi growls at the skin of your neck.

“Not right here,” you laugh, suddenly aware of Pop approaching. Javi whines like a puppy as you push him away gently, his hair mussed and his lips swollen, and your heart swells in your chest.

Christ, sometimes you still cannot believe how fucking lucky you are. 

“Besides.” You can’t resist stealing one last kiss from his chin. “You know you love it.”

Javi’s breath catches. His eyes darken. One thumb strokes softly at your cheek, tucking back a stray hair. “Querida,” he starts -

You’re startled by a slow clap behind you, and both you and Javi jump back as if burned. Pop has finally made it to the scene. “Buena, Orejas!” he teases, his dark eyes dancing. “Well done!”

Asshole, you think fondly. Sarcasm runs strong in the Peña clan, it seems. You shake your head at him, a grin pulling at your cheeks.

Pop reaches to grip Caballo by the reigns. The motherfucker had finished his flight around the the ranch and wandered back toward you, sedately, almost nonchalantly, as if to say, ‘who, me?’

“Ready to go again?” Pop asks, holding out the reigns in your direction. 

Javi groans. “No, Dad.”

You’re not sure if Pop’s serious, but you are. “Absolutely!” Fresh air and adrenaline have made you giddy, and you decide on the spot that, apart from almost dying, riding a horse is the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. 

Caballo takes a little half step back, side-eyeing you with as much expression as a horse can muster, as if he’s sensed your intent and wholeheartedly does not approve.

You glance back at Javi. He’s sighing hard, head in his hands, rubbing his palms to his eyeballs with a ferocity that must have him seeing spots.

You decide to have mercy. “How about tomorrow?” you suggest, bumping shoulders with Javi in a gentle reminder that you’re here, you’re okay. “I know there’s still some beer in the fridge.” 

Pop nods sagely, still grinning as he pats Caballo on the haunches. “I think so.” He offers you a quick wink, and you decide for the third time this morning that you really, really like your almost father-in-law.

“Thank fuck,” Javi mutters to himself. 

You elbow him hard enough to draw a grunt, then offer him a quick peck on the lips in compensation. “Come on, babe. It wasn’t that bad.” 

He huffs in response. 

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal fandom #javi x reader #javi x you #narcos netflix #Javier Peña imagine #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #reader insert #I don't know where this came from but here you go merry Christmas #ears is pure chaotic energy and really it's javi who slows her down not the other way around #ears is basically a blatant self insert character and i'm not even sorry #drops this and runs to wrap last minute presents #javi is so much like a fucking horse i swear #huffing and snorting all the time

[the-crowess]

Altrovough: Adventure on Every Horizon

Chapter 1: Out of the Dark I hadn't been playing for six months. Not because it had become too expensive. Not because work became too much for me. Not because I got a significant other. Not because the community was bad or anything like that. No, I hadn't played in six months because my avatar was stuck in a trap.

            There are glitches, you see. Somehow in this modern VR experience there are still glitches. And with glitches comes assholes who use those glitches to their advantage.

            So, here's what happened to me: Me and my party went into a dungeon. We split up. Two went one way, two went the other, and I (though I protested) was by myself. Even though I had a lantern when I walked down into the hallway it was completely black. That should have been my first clue that this was a trap of some sort. My lantern still had fire, but no light was being produced from it. Being promised treasure and being a dumbass, I continued forward into the dark. After walking just far enough into the hallway to make the doorway disappear, I sprung a tile trap.

            The floor beneath me sloped downward and I fell rolling after it. Head over heels I fell until I smacked my face and passed out.

            I woke up in chains. I was propped up against a wall. My wrists above my head were on short chains, and my ankles on longer chains.

            Okay, I thought, no biggy. I'll just restart the day.

            Okay, so that didn't work. Which is weird... I'll call my party members...

            No service? What the fuck? That's not even an element in this game!

            Well, uh, okay I guess I'll just bust out of these—rusty—old—chains!

            ...

            Nope.

            After exhausting my options, then exhausting them again I logged off.

For months I kept receiving messages that players were interacting with my avatar, so I would log on, only for them to laugh at me and be utterly and completely unhelpful.

            My party visited me four separate times. And all of those times were to make fun or my misfortune, even though they knew that ANYTIME they could unlock the chains and release me. The first time it was all of them together. The captain Jockster (or Jerkstar as I call him) had squatted down in front of me and said, "this is what you get, you know. Playing this way has consequences. Thanks for taking one for the team." Then he had laughed like the drug addicted jackass he was. The others laughed with him. The second time it was only Aliciandria (our rouge) and Marlquan (our cleric). They had been discussing what to do with me when Alicandria accidentally kicked my foot and I responded, and I woke up to them talking about if they should just kill me so that they wouldn't have to worry about how people were judging them for not helping me. The third time it was just Havanio (the sorcerer). He woke me up, then sat across from me and said nothing for an hour. He just sat there like a fucking douchebag and looked at me like I was some caged beast put there for his entertainment. And the last time doesn't matter.

            Players of all kinds and from all districts would stop by only to laugh at me. I became a joke, and even more that that I became a meme! Screenshots of my avatar hanging there like a prisoner spread all over the internet. To add to my torture, a player whose avatar was a homely goblin woman would harass me constantly.

            Behind the happy smile of someone who literally baked cookies for visitors was a demented maniac. This guy—I know she is a he because he fucking DM'd me dick pics. I think he harassed me for three reasons: 1) I fell right into his trap 2) My avatar is a hot man and I think Little Miss Goblin Man is gay or more likely bi and uncomfortable with his sexuality 3) I think he thought he figured out that the gender of my avatar and the gender of myself might not be the same, and he was definitely trying to intimidate me. This asshole physically and sexually harassed my avatar, and I couldn't even report it!

            Not like I didn't try to report it—when I did the staff would send in an NPC (Non-Player Character) and see literally nothing. So, in this trap: it's a glitch mixed with a non-invasive virus; meaning the virus only effects this one spot and not the whole server or game. It can't get into your computer. It like can't get past the firewalls or something I don't really know.

            So, not only did this jack-wad figure out a way to trap me, but he also figured out how to keep his dirty deeds hidden from the staff. For almost three months I continued to check in. Two weeks after the initial incident I jumped at every UAN (Unconscious Avatar Notification) but I quickly learned that nobody wanted to help me, they all just wanted to see if the rumors were true and maybe get a picture. Eventually I stopped responding and eventually my avatar fell out of the popular meme rotation.

...

BEEP. BEEP. UAN! Someone's interacting with your character! 😊

BEEP. BEEP. UAN!! Someone's interacting with your character.

BEEP. BEEP. UAN!!! Respond you asshole! You should log on!

"Uhg! Fine!"

I left my lunch (thinking I would return to it real soon) and went to my game room to log on.

I woke to a girl poking my cheek. I snapped at her fingers.

"Oh! Fuck!" She pulled her hand away, shaking off the close call, "you're hard to wake up! Not much for answering your UAN's huh?"

Standing over me was a girl of maybe nineteen. Her clothes draped and flowed about figure in Cleric glory. Great. A fucking cleric. She wouldn't've stood out more. Dark skin with undoubtably "sea green" eyes. Her hair was done up in some completely unattainable style that was loopy with braids and pigtails sectioned into pompoms; it was a shade of maroon that says, "I'm a supporting character, but I want to think I'm a main character!"

"Is it true you've been down here six months?"

"O.O.G."

"What?"

"Out. Of. Game. I've been 'down here' six months out of game."

"Holy cow, man! That's a while."

"Did you need something?"

"Excuse me?"

I made cold eye contact with her, "Did. You. Need. Something?"

"Uh... wellllllll, I heard a rumor that there was some poor fuck stuck down here who can't get himself out."

"Oh. Fantastic." An awkward silence split between us, "well, thanks for stopping by. Take a screenshot, it'll last longer."

She stared blankly at me, "no. I think you misunderstand. I'm here to help you."

"What."

"I'm here to help you."

I couldn't think. Couldn't fathom this thing unfolding in front of me, "what?"

She began to fiddle with the chains on my wrist.

"Wait, no!"

She looked down at me the way a mom would look at her two-year-old who says he doesn't want to eat mashed potatoes because they have eyes and he doesn't want to eat mashed eyeballs.

"Wait." As my heart pounded loudly in my chest, I asked her, "what do you want from me? Like, you—you can't just want to let me go. You must want something from me."

She sat back down on her heels and looked away, her lips followed her eyes away from me and back, and she said, "Well, no. Not really. Like I said: I heard there might be some poor fuck who was trapped and couldn't get out on his own. I thought for my first adventure, I'd go get 'im." Then she went right back to messing with the chains.

I laughed and shook my head.

She stood up and put her hands on her hips, pouting. Lordy, she was cute. The puzzled look on her face gave me some hope that maybe she might actually be able to save me. With a huff she sat down again and confessed, "you're the only reason I got this game. You're a meme, a legend. You're so classic that you're practically nonexistent. Every time this game comes up in social media you're mentioned. On all the subreddits, and in the deepest parts of tumblr—you're there. I just had to come see if you were real, and I was—and still am—planning that if you were actually here that I would help you out."

"No catch?"

"No catch."

I smiled to myself, knowing now that it was I who had the advantage. I could use her. After all, every party needs a healer. Now I just had to make sure she wouldn't ditch me anytime soon. "Are you sure you don't want to try and find a catch? I was a level 52 before this whole ordeal."

She perked up, "what's your level now, cowboy?"

"35."

"What?! You're so dilapidated and all your equipment was stolen. H-HOW?"

"Cause I'm just that awesome." This should do it.

"I've changed my mind!"

Perfect.

"I want you as a bodyguard! For two years—"

"One year."

"Alright, one year." She looked like she wanted to ask me to shake on it, but then thought better of it, "can I please help you out now?"

"Yes."

Very quickly, and with very little trouble she released me from my chains. Bruises and scars tattooed my wrists and ankles. How the coding of this game works is literally so fucking far beyond me. I pulled my limbs into myself, feeling the stiff resistance of time.

"Can you get up?"

Without needing to consider it I said, "no, I don't think so. Do you have any potions that will give me a boost?"

"Oh yes! I knew that if I found you, you'd need medical help immediately, so I spent all the gold from my—"

"All your gold??? Are you stupid?"

"Whaaaa? I-I... I—just—"

"Whatever. We'll figure it out. What potions do you have?"

She nodded very curtly, and pulled up her bag contents and read them off to me: "fifteen Good Health Potions, fifteen Great Health Potions, fifteen Fantastic Health Potions, ten Boost 'Ems, seven Leaves Of Health, two Gladiator Liquid Bandages and two Beats of Life. What'll it be?"

"Gimme a Boost 'Em."

She tapped on the icon and a Boot 'Em materialized in her hand. She put it out to me, but when I grabbed for it, she pulled away. I of course made eye contact with her, thinking she was gonna pull a fast one on me. Instead she said, "Valhalla."

"What?" My immediate confusion fell away into fear. This must be a trick. But why would she do that? It doesn't make any sense. I'm clearly smarter than her. It's me that's tricking her, why would she—

"That's my name. Valhalla."

The interruption of my panicked thinking threw me off guard. That's a stupid name. Before I could tell her how stupid I thought her name was she put the Boost 'Em in my hand.

Taking the potion, I had trouble removing the cork. Valhalla silently offered her help, but I shooed her away. I grumbled something about how I was perfectly capable of doing it myself.

With much effort and significant struggling, I yanked the cork out and threw it over my shoulder. Only for it to bounce off the wall and back into my lap. With the kind of drunken vigor seen at taverns I swallowed the creamy blue liquid. The moment it touched my lips, a feeling of power hit me like caffeine in a low-calorie energy drink. Going down my throat it felt like warm milk and honey. Electrifying energy flowed outward from my middle. It snaked its way through my arms and legs. It made my fingers and toes tingle like pins and needles.

I leapt up, a new man. I knew this wouldn't last long, and I knew that later this would end up hurting me more, but fuck.

Fuck this feels good.

"Do you have any weapons?"

"Uh, yeah." Valhalla pulled up her bag again and tapped on the Equipment tab. "What do you want?"

There were certainly more weapons than should have been in her bag if she had just started, let alone had spent all her starter gold on potions. I chose to ignore this. "I'll take the mace." I reached up and engaged with the weapon. The heavy steel handle materialized in my outstretched hand. By the look on her face, it must have been the first time Valhalla had seen anyone engage. I'm glad I was able to be the one to show her, in all the glory I could muster.

"This is a pretty nasty weapon, baby." I swung it a couple of times, feeling the weight; testing the blow power.

"I picked it up because I liked the color!"

I laughed, "I guess I overlooked the purple steel, but this will do nicely."

"Nicely for what?"

"Do me a favor, doll. You see that door over there? Go knock."

"Okay, but," she came right up close to me and stuck her face in mine, "I'm not a fucking doll."

"Noted."

I followed her as she warily walked to the door of the goblin woman's kitchen. Valhalla knocked timidly on the door.

"Come in!" The goblin wench cooed, "I just baked some fresh cookies! We can pose next to the body if you want!"

I caught Valhalla frown and furrow her brows at "the body".

Oh how sweet this will taste, I thought as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I passed in front of Valhalla whispering, "stay back."

I slid through the open door. The goblin hag had her back to me, this couldn't have been planned more perfectly. I crept up behind her with my mace raised above my head and my six-foot-five shadow engulfed her. She turned around with horror, a tray of cookies in hand. Her eyes widened and she tensed as if she were to scream.

But I didn't give her a chance.

"Your actions have consequences."

I let the mace fall down upon her head. The crack of her skull resonated harmoniously with the clang of the cookie sheet on the ground. Giddy joy sprung forth from me as I smashed the mace into her again and again. The second blow shattered her ribcage. Her ribs sprang up and splintered through her tissue. Smashing her hands made her fingers pop off, they flew in all directions. A blow to her thigh created a fountain. Warm blood hit my bare chest, my exposed legs. It splattered on my face. It coated my hands. It made the mace slippery in my hands. Her blood soaked what little was left of my shorts. It sprayed the walls, the kitchy table and chairs, the coffee pot and baking ingredients. Blood decorated the cookies that now laid scattered on the floor. 

Satisfied by the pulpy mound of oozing, squirting flesh and bone I subsided. Reaching down, I tore a blood-soaked rag from her dress. Turning to the wall I wrote LEAVE.

Standing back, I let out a heavy sigh. The effects of the Boost 'Em would soon wear off. I turned around and cracked my neck. I looked over in Valhalla's direction, but over her head. "I need some new clothes." I declared.

She stared at me. Her eyes pulled mine in and her mouth morphed into a grin, "fuck. YEAH!"

"Huh??????"

"Dude she called you 'the body'. And we both know that she was the reason you were stuck down here. Plus: THAT WAS AWESOME!!! I am so glad I came to find you! Best $130 dollars I ever spent." She then ran up and hugged me. The contact made me tense up.

I shook out of her embrace, "let's get out of this dungeon."

She led the way out. It was different from the way I had come in. We walked down the hallway that I had stared at for so long, hoping that somebody, anybody would come for me. Not ten feet into the tunnel we turned a corner and there was the exit. My stomach dropped. I felt sick.

It had been so close the whole time. Learning this made me want to revive that sonofabitch just to kill her all over again.

Emerging into the sunlight hurt my eyes. I was blinded.

What a sight we must have been. Myself: six-five, soaked in blood, starved, almost naked. Her: small, sweet-looking, fresh-faced, and not a drop of blood on her.

I still couldn't really see when somebody started talking. "Hey, are you guys okay?"

"Oh, we're fine," Valhalla sang sweetly sang sweetly next to me. At that very moment, I lost all my energy. My health bar plummeted, and sirens rang through my headset. My vison flashed red. I fell to the ground.

The group that had approached watched, alarmed. Valhalla looked like she wanted to eat her words.

Stupid girl. She had no idea what to do.

I had fifteen seconds before I'd die. This had happened once before when my former party and I had just started the game. We got attacked by a level 20 dragon and one strike had me seeing red.

10 seconds.

They were bickering about the best course of action. They had no idea I was on the brink of death. Valhalla stared at me looking like a lost idiot.

The sky began to spin. Valhalla's blurry silhouette swayed above me.

Did she forget about all that stuff she bought? How many gaming hours did she log before she came to find me? Did she even go on the tutorial adventure? I mean, you can technically skip it, but—

"BEAT." I coughed out then my head lolled.

The party erupted into tense panic.

5 seconds.

Oh please, please Valhalla. Please don't let me die. After all, you told me you came to save me. So save me!

Just as if she could hear my internal pleas, a beat was shoved in my mouth and my jaw forced upward from the outside to crush it. The juicy tuber gushed in my mouth. I felt Valhalla's hand on my lips, pressing down to keep everything in. I'd heard rumors of the experience of Beat of Life. Some players said they almost wish their party members would have let them die. The juice was hot, potent, and sour. So sour is made my jaw ache. It felt like someone was twisting a wheel, making my jaw tighter and tighter. My teeth felt like they were going to pop out of their gums. It burned my throat, made my eyes water and my nose run. My stomach did not want to accept it. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't move. Hot flashes waved through my body. An ocean of churning heat pushed and pulled at my organs, my brain. I could feel myself sweating. Growing hotter by the moment. My head swam. My limbs grew numb. I passed out.

I was saved. Unconscious, but saved.

But Valhalla didn't know that. Stupid girl, skipping the tutorial. What was she thinking? Guess I'd have to ask her when I woke up.

And so I took off my headset and it was dusk.

#writing #write #story #creative writing #swear words #lots of swearing #tw #crude humor #violence #gore #gore tw #violence tw #video games #viddy games #video game story #original fiction #fantasy #high fantasy #tw swearing #vr #virtual reality #vrgame #vr game

[lunarsaga]

Me: I'm not gonna write a fanfic, I'll just do this in snippets My "Snippets": *full fanfic chapter length and only getting longer* Me: ......uh.......

This Episode:

The Band Of Seven, Resurrected

Finally catching sight of their friends again was a bit of a relief for both Luna and Ai. It had been a long couple of days, going all the way home and coming back. Part of Luna hoped they’d get just a little bit of rest before whatever shit hit the fan next, but another part knew the odds on that were pretty low. Still, it was nice to be back.

Kagome was the first to spot them as they flew in. “It’s Luna!”

“Luna’s back!” Shippo proclaimed joyfully.

“Hey, y’all,” Luna greeted as Ai touched down. She hopped off the demon’s back as her friends offered their greetings. “What’d I miss?” She asked.

Miroku was the one to answer. “Quite a lot. It seems that we may encounter a new enemy: the local villagers recently informed us of a group of mercenaries called the Band of Seven. The villagers believe these ruthless killers may have been brought back from the dead.”

With a grin on her face, Luna shrugged at the idea. “Undead mercs, huh? Nothin’ we can’t handle.” She held up her fist for her sister to bump it, and as Ai changed back to her human form, Luna noticed their little group was smaller than it should’ve been. “Where’s Sango?”

Kagome bumped fists with her sister, smiling at Luna’s nonchalant comment. “She went off with Kilala. I sensed a Jewel Shard nearby earlier… so I think she may have gone to look for Kohaku.”

Luna didn’t have time to respond. Off in the distance, she heard the distinctive echo of a sound she was all too familiar with.

“What on Earth was that?” Ai asked, her hand on Luna’s arm.

Kagome glanced at her sister nervously. “Was that…?”

“Gunfire. Definitely.” Luna’s eyes were locked on the trees in the direction the sound had come from. Mere seconds after they heard the shots, there was an overwhelming tang of copper in the air.

“And the smell of human blood…” Miroku said, gravely.

Inuyasha hopped up onto a tree limb, hoping to get a look at what was happening. He couldn’t see it, but he sure as hell could smell it. “And it ain’t from just a handful of people, either.”

So much for a second to rest, Luna chuckled to herself as she tightened the straps on her backpack and immediately kicked into gear. “What’re we waiting for, then?”

And off they were, charging headlong into danger as always. Luna could sense something was up; more so than usual. The stench of blood was never a good sign in the first place, but there was something else setting off warning bells. Something she couldn’t put a finger on.

The smell got stronger and stronger, until… they reached its source. Despite the amount of nasty shit she’d seen in her ten years of hunting supernatural monsters, there were some things that still turned her stomach, and seeing a single human being standing in a veritable ring of blood and gore was definitely one of them. His black hair was pulled into a twist; his lips were painted red, he had blue tattoos like tear tracks under each eye, and one side of his kimono was tucked up under his belt. The dude was just squatting in the middle of the carnage, eyeballing the barrel of a matchlock gun like it was his first time seeing one (which, hell, it might be, she thought to herself; in this time, they would’ve only recently been invented). He seemed completely unbothered by the dozen and a half bodies of freshly murdered warriors and their horses surrounding him.

Inuyasha was the one to get to the scene just ahead of the others, calling back over his shoulder: “Stay back! Don’t come over here!”

Instinctively, Luna remained in front of her sister, her arm out to try and block her view. Her stomach was churning, and her hand was poised to pull her gun if needed. No way this guy could be human… right?

“Did… that one person do all this?” Kagome’s voice was a shocked whisper.

It was then that the guy in the middle noticed them. He stood, his sword over his shoulder and his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Are you the one I’ve been looking for?” He asked, a grin on his face as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Are you Inuyasha?!”

“Got a bad feeling about this.” Luna mumbled, “That guy isn't a demon, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” Kagome uttered back to her, “I don’t sense a demonic aura….”

“How’d you know my name?!” Inuyasha demanded.

He got no answer out of the guy with the sword. Instead, the guy squealed: “You’re adorable!”

A dumbfounded silence fell over the group. Luna glanced around at the others to make sure she didn’t just lose her mind—but no, the general consensus among her friends was along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck?’

“I especially love those fuzzy ears of yours!” The guy continued, licking his lips. “I want them~”

Alright, so this guy was nuts. Luna had had enough of ignoring the bad vibe she was picking up from him. She dropped her bag next to Kagome’s bike and readied herself for a fight: detached the ammo bag and shotgun holster from her pack and slung them over her shoulder, slipped her short sword through one of the belt loops on her jeans, and pulled her shotgun to make sure it was in hand and loaded. She kept her eyes moving back and forth between Inuyasha and the dude with the sword during the next exchange:

“Who are you?” Inuyasha demanded, “What are you after? You don’t smell like a living person, you reek like corpses and graveyard soil!”

No answer.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku said in realization: “Could he be—?”

“Yep,” Inuyasha confirmed, before calling out to the guy with the sword again: “Some villagers were talking! They said some disgusting specter rose up from the grave. That’d be you, I presume!”

Right, zombies, Luna thought to herself; if he really is undead, the Sacred Salt won’t do as much as it would a demon… It’d sting, but what I really need is-… She smirked and holstered her gun again, grabbing a different weapon from the bottom of her bag.

“Are you one of the Band of Seven?!” Miroku asked of the specter as Luna was tuning back in. “Answer me!”

After a long pause as the specter seemed to size the monk up, his response was even worse than before. “Inuyasha really is good looking, but you’re pretty sexy yourself~”

Luna snorted so hard she thought she was gonna eject her brain through her nose. Ai whacked her in the arm as a warning.

“No one minds if I suck him up, do they?” Miroku grumbled.

“No.” Inuyasha said, flatly.

“Hold on!” Kagome said, “He’s got a Sacred Jewel Shard! He must’ve been revived with the power of the Shard!”

“So that was what I was sensing,” Luna mumbled, “but why does it feel off...?”

“Where’d you get the Jewel Shard?!” Inuyasha once again attempted to pose a question to their opponent, only to once again receive a weird, adoring response:

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry~!”

“Shut up!” Inuyasha shouted, jumping forward and drawing his sword. “Alright, dead man, you’d better start talking to me, and I want real answers!”

The expression on the specter’s face shifted from one of reverence to one more sadistic as he regarded Tetsusaiga. “That’s an interesting sword you have there… let’s see whose is stronger.” He lifted his own sword, making an odd motion around his head and shoulders with it as if he were gearing up for something. “Yours or mine?!”

When he brought his arm down, something that looked almost like a bolt of silver lightning shot from his blade. Inuyasha barely had the chance to block it as it cut an arc through the air toward him.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome called out in surprise.

“Stay back!” Miroku threw his arm out in an attempt to shield the others. “It’s some kind of trick sword!”

“That’s my cue!” Ai shifted into full demon form, jerking her head at the sisters and the little fox. “All aboard!”

Kagome climbed on no issue, but Luna glanced at Miroku, who made no move to follow them. “You coming?”

“I’ll be alright, you keep them safe.” Miroku said, resolute. Not about to argue, Luna climbed on the demon’s back and Ai leapt into the air above the fight.

“You gonna be okay holding all of us after that long flight?” Luna asked her friend.

“I’m fine, it’s the same weight as you with your pack on.” Ai sassed back.

“Yeah well, fuck me for being prepared,” Luna laughed, starting to prep the other weapon she’d brought.

Kagome managed to tear her eyes from the confrontation below to try and see what her sister was doing. “What did you bring, Luna?”

Luna grinned as she clicked the last accessory into place, then turned back to show her sister. “This? This is my baby.” She held up her favorite weapon: it was a fully-customized folding compound crossbow as long as Luna’s arm. She pressed a release on the side, and the arms shot into place, making both Shippo and Kagome jump.

“Whoa!” The fox demon exclaimed, “What kind of a weapon is that?!”

“It’s a crossbow, Shippo,” Kagome explained, “It’s kind of like my bow, but the arrows are smaller and it’s easier to fire.”

“Self-loading, too,” Luna smirked as she strung it up, “The ‘arrows’ are called bolts. This thing can shoot way faster than a longbow, and since we’re dealing with Zombie Harley Quinn down there—” She grabbed a bolt from her ammo bag to show it to them, “—we’re gonna need these. They’re tipped with pure silver. Great for dealing with Vampires, Werewolves, The Undead, and The Unholy.”

Shippo reached out to touch it, but Kagome stopped him, shaking her head rapidly. “It’s safe to assume you shouldn’t touch anything Luna has in her bag, Shippo.”

The kid swallowed nervously. “G-got it...”

Below them, the fight continued. Inuyasha could barely avoid each strike of the snakelike sword, and his opponent only seemed to be having more and more fun.

“What do you think of Jakotsu of the Band of Seven, huh?!” He shouted as he swung the sword once more.

“Not too much!” Inuyasha came back at him with Tetsusaiga, but to no avail.

Kagome gasped. “He needs help!”

“That’s what this baby’s for,” Luna grinned, patting her crossbow. “Ai, can you stay out of reach of the sword but get me close enough to shoot?!”

“It’ll take a miracle!”

“Better start praying, then,” Luna lined up the shot, finger still as stone on the trigger. There was a familiar voice in the back of her head; she could hear her father saying: “Aim for where they’re gonna be, not where they are.”

I know, dad. She tried not to sigh audibly as she managed to get Jakotsu’s head in her crosshairs and pulled the trigger, quick as a viper.

And… almost missed him.

The consecrated silver bolt seemed to burn through the air as it shot just centimeters shy of the specter’s nose and grazing his arm, burning a hole in his kimono. He whipped his attention to the woman who shot it.

“How dare you interfere?!” He snarled, rearing his arm back and whipping his blade toward them.

Luna felt her stomach drop. “Motherf—”

“You idiot!” Ai snapped at her, trying to fly out of range of the sword as Kagome and Shippo both clung, screaming, to Luna’s back. Just as the sword arched toward them, there was a familiar cry of:

“HIRAIKOTSU!”

And Jakotsu’s blade was then tangled around the aforementioned boomerang. All three riding on Ai’s back sighed in relief when they saw Sango swoop in on Kilala. Ai touched down just as Kilala did, transforming into her human form and unceremoniously dumping the sisters on their asses.

“Are you all okay?” Sango called over to them.

“We’re fine!” Shippo answered.

“Perfect timing, Sango!” Kagome said.

“Some weapon, Luna!” Ai huffed in the Hunter’s direction. Luna just stuck her tongue at her.

Jakotsu was practically red in the face, shrieking in frustration: “What is with all you vile women?! Can’t you see I’m trying to battle Inuyasha?!” In the same breath, he whipped his sword again, toward Sango this time. The movement freed the Hiraikotsu, and ended up leaving a small slice on Sango’s arm as Jakotsu pulled it back.

“Stay out of this!” He continued, “None of you will interfere!”

But their “interference” had served Inuyasha well enough: it gave him just the opportunity he needed to rear back and punch the specter in the face.

“Shut up! I’m tired of listening to your pointless babble!” Inuyasha growled.

Jakotsu grunted as he tumbled back, then rubbed his cheek and pouted like a kicked puppy. “That was cruel…”

“Oh, get over it!” Inuyasha snapped, “Now tell me who gave you the Sacred Jewel Shard before I have to seriously hurt you!”

Kagome and Miroku rushed to see if Sango was okay, but she assured them that it was just a graze; she was fine. Her attention was more on the subject at hand.

“I have a feeling that the shard came from Naraku,” She said, somberly. She looked at Kagome. “When you sensed a Jewel Shard earlier… it was Kohaku. I saw the Saimiyosho around him as well.”

“That means that your brother is still under Naraku’s control…” Miroku said. Sango nodded.

Luna had set her weapon down next to her backpack, and came back with a bandage for Sango’s arm. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how the hell they were gonna handle this—first an undead band of Ronin, now they have something to do with Naraku. What was Naraku playing at...?

“Gotta wonder what the hell is next…” Luna mumbled sarcastically. Seconds later, she would regret asking. A cloud of black smoke poured over the cliffside, drifting right toward them.

Like he knew what was happening, Jakotsu got up and collected his sword. “Inuyasha! You should get out of here while you can! Bye!” And with that, he was just… gone.

“What the hell—” Inuyasha broke off with a startled yell when the cloud reached him. “Its poison!”

“But where’s it coming from?!” Miroku wondered.

“We need to move.” Luna reassembled her bag in less than thirty seconds—side effect of doing it so often. “We can figure out what the fuck is going on when we’re safely away from here!”

Why do I feel like we stepped into something huge here? Luna thought to herself as the group of friends moved away from the cloud of gas.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha oc #inuyasha au #oc #my art #my ocs #the lunar saga #holy fuck I guess I should just fuckin' write this fanfic #kagome higurashi #sango #miroku #shippo #kilala #fanfic

[very-grownup]

THE YEAR IS 2020 AND I WATCHED NEON GENESIS EVANGELION FOR THE FIRST TIME, PART 3

Episode 11.

Self-governance is an illusion and humanity has replaced the decision-making process with some supercomputers because no one's read "I Have No Mouth and I Mist Scream".

The rest of Episode 11 and Episode 12 behind the cut.

So, there's this episode of Johnny Quest where a spaceship crash lands outside this military base and it leaves behind this black orb that in the night opens and it's a glowing red eye and super long spider legs extend and it shoots a laser out of its eye. The Angel in this episode reminds me of the giant space spider robot in that episode of Johnny Quest but it's like a rhomboid instead of an orb and it is covered in triangles and each triangle has an eye and later the eyes cry orange acid and that's upsetting but I love spider.

There's a power outage in this episode caused by I think the Angel just throwing a breaker and shutting everything down and absolutely no one was prepared for this eventuality. Like, everything is underground mostly and what emergency power there is gets diverted from the life support to the supercomputers which seems like the kind of decision EVIL SUPERCOMPUTERS WOULD MAKE but that's not even the important thing.

Shinji's been told by his teacher to talk to his dad because the kids are doing, like, their future goal planning guidance counselor stuff or whatever and parents need to be involved and the little scene of Shinji calling his father from a payphone is heartbreaking. Just awkward anxious stuttering mostly focused on Shinji's empty hand clenching and unclenching helplessly while his father interrupts him to tell him to spit it out already and tell him why he's broken what seems to be a no contact rule between them and it's so real. So futile. Shinji really tries to tell his father the message he's supposed to pass on only to get the brush-off again, the whole thing impatiently dismissed as unimportant and part of all the responsibilities for Shinji that have been delegated to Misato. Then we get the beginning of what is clearly Shinji's father telling his assistant not to forward Shinji's calls in the future before the power outage and the call disconnects. Shinji tries to talk to about this to Asuka and Rei. The disconnect has just enough uncertainty to it that Asuka is able to go 'sounds like a tech problem stop worrying so much and reading into it you wiener'. Shinji tries to lie to himself that Asuka's right even though this is just the latest bit of abusive negligence from his dad. It's sad, it's just so sad, it makes me so sad and there's no one to tell Shinji straight up that his dad sucks and is neglecting him and it's not cool and there's no excuse, not really.

There's stuff with the kids needing to get to NERV with the power out, Asuka trying to get into a power play with the others that they are completely disinterested in, a clearly anxious and adrift Shinji asking '... it's weird we're being attacked by things we call angels right?'

The kids get to the robots which have been prepared for them. Shinji sees his father working with the grunts to get the robots ready all analogue and hand-cranked or whatever and he's allowed to believe this is because his dad had faith the kids, including Shinji, would get there. Which is such a cruel lie to perpetuate about this man who was ready to drop a nuke on his son in the last episode, but Shinji takes it and actually gets into the robot with spirit because he's so desperate to believe that he's even on his father's radar, let alone important to him.

They have to chop a bunch of tubes with axes so the robots can punch and kick their way to the Angel and get acid-cried on and when the tubes are axed they gush really upsetting fluid and I hate it. But mostly I just keep thinking about Shinji's empty hand clutching at nothing while trying to get his father to hear him. This concludes my report on Episode 11 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Episode 12.

In the year 2000, as we all remember, Antarctica got blown the fuck up by an energy giant appearing. Who survived this incident? Misato and I assume a single penguin. Misato was a child who was there with her father because no one knows what work-life balance is or where it's appropriate to bring children and to save her, her father put her in a metal coffin tube. TRAUMA.

Back in the present (I have now forgotten what year this is supposed to be taking place in), Misato has been promoted to major and Shinji's two friends, the horny boys who try to have an empathy, notice before Shinji and Asuka do (parental figures can never change). It turns out with her promotion and Shinji's shitty dad and that other old dude being away (in Antarctica where everything is blood and northern lights), Misato is the most senior person at NERV and I got a feeling so complicated. Because it's great that professionally Misato is getting recognition and authority, especially in the wake of Kaji existing, but ... Misato is a disaster and NERV is a disaster and being the top disaster dog of a disaster seems ... not great.

There's a bit that is both sweet and sad where Shinji's friends make them throw a little party to celebrate Misato's promotion and they are genuinely trying to do something nice for her even if it's partially propelled by horniness but also ... no peers? Honey. (Ritsuko and Kaji do show up so it's not just Misato and middle schoolers but Kaji is a negative to the adult count, the peer count, and the friend count so it's all null.)

The important thing in this episode is the connection and parallels between Shinji and Misato. Shinji realizes that although they're celebrating her promotion, Misato isn't happy. Misato admits this is kind of the case and Shinji is baffled. The promotion means that outside authority figures have recognized Misato's hard work and are validating it and why wouldn't that make Misato happy? Surely that's why people do things, to get external validation? Because it's why Shinji makes the decisions he makes. Validation and happiness are complicated, naturally, and it's saying that, but also implicit in the exchange is that Shinji has never received external validation. This is his holy grail. Once he has that surely everything will feel different.

When an Angel that looks like an orange boomerang or maybe a bop-it with an huge eyeball in the centre attacks and Misato's in charge, she uses her authority to make some wild and risky calls which boil down to 'throw all the teens in robots at it at once'.

The Angel drops orange globs of itself onto the earth below and each glob is like a little nuke that leaves a smoking crater behind but it's pretty cute, like someone put decarabia from SMT through a funhouse mirror. Not a fan of the orange globs, though.

Ritsuko confronts Misato in the bathroom about making bad decisions for the wrong reasons (as opposed to her usual bad decisions but for the right reason), suggesting that Misato just wants to get revenge on the Angels and destroy them which ... is what I thought NERV was for? It seems very double-standard and bullshit and I don't buy it as being something that makes Misato's decisions any better or worse than they would be otherwise. Ritsuko just seems to be covering her ass because Shinji's dad is away and only he gets to send teens into death.

Misato takes some time to explain to Shinji why she joined NERV and the complicated feelings she has not towards the Angels but to her father, who was a shitty father who was emotionally distant and neglectful and only seems to have managed to be a good dad once before promptly dying. Misato is still trying to figure out the intersection between anger and grief and how to feel about a man who does important work and to who she doubly owes her life but who was a shitty dad in a moment-by-moment sense. The guilt of still being angry, even after his death: Misato is still grappling with this and the echoes of shitty parenting, a cyclical thing that she is simultaneously enabling and attempting to divert by stepping into Shinji's life and it's no surprise something she's still grappling with flies over Shinji's head.

The kids get in the robots to fight the Angel all at once in Misato's reckless plan that works because ALL THE PLANS ARE THROWING TEENS IN ROBOTS AT GIANT MONSTERS. One of the kids tears the membrane off the giant eye and stabs it with a giant robot knife and it's gross. ALSO on defeat the Angel STILL BLOWS UP AND LEAVES A HUGE CRATER, SOMEHOW THIS IS SUCCESS?

Shinji's shitty dad calls in to validate and commend Misato's incredibly reckless decision because of course he doesn't have a problem with plans that might kill teens. He was ready to nuke his son an episode ago! Shinji's shitty dad then speaks to him directly, calls him by name, and basically tells him 'good work' and between this and his talks with Misato, Shinji learns the lesson that if he continues to do this thing he hates beyond all understanding, his father will see him. It's awful because Misato was trying to find words to explain how fleeting to nothingness external validation is when it doesn't align with your own desires and this didn't reach Shinji but also because what his father gives him is lip service. Empty words. Nothing. But they're still the most Shinji seems to have ever gotten from his father and so this nothing is everything. This concludes my report on Episode 12 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Supplemental: with how poorly Misato explains things to Shinji, it feels like she's never spoken about her anger towards her father and her anger about her anger being complicated by his sacrifice and death. She has no real friends she feels safe opening up to.

#neon genesis evangelion report #they're starting to get long

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: cursing, flirting

Pairings: Sam x OC, Rafe x OC

Chapter 2

Sam’s POV

I woke up with a headache and creaky joints. As I sat up from my bed, I took a deep breath enjoying the air that wasn’t of the prison variety. There was a beautiful view of Italy outside my open window and I couldn’t have been more enthusiastic for the day ahead. I stood from my bed, stretching my arms and rolling my shoulders to loosen up as I gathered my things to go shower. As I passed through the living room, I noticed the little woman from last night curled up on the couch, using her jacket as a pillow, still clad in last night's clothing. With curiosity and stealth, I made my way over to peek at her from the other side of the doorway. I stared down at her tanned skin, freckles peppered across her cheeks and down her pointed nose, her eyes big and lush with thick lashes, her lips rounded and stained a deep pink; Her hair short, dark, and pin curled. Her thin arms wrapped around her curvy but small frame as she snores lightly. She really was quite beautiful. She looked something like a 1920’s starlet. I could feel a light pang in my chest and it spooked the hell outta me, so I pushed on down the hallway to shower. I realized I sort of stuck my foot in it last night with her. Like Sully, she just wants to protect my little brother, which I guess I should be grateful for.

After a phenomenal shower, I wrapped my towel around my waist and headed back to my room to change. As I passed the common area, I stopped in my tracks. Sunny stood in the corner of the kitchenette, fixing herself a cup of coffee. At the sound of my footsteps, she turned to lock eyes with me, giving my body a once over with a smirk before taking her mug and pack of cigarettes outside. I watched as her hips swing side to side with each dainty step she took and I could feel my ears heating up. I couldn’t help but stare at her fantastic backside as she leaned against the railing with an amused grin. Just then, I heard a door behind me open. Victor took his morning hobble to receive a coffee himself when he saw me. “Jesus, kid! Put some clothes on!” He exclaimed and Sunny turned her upper half to look at me.

“Aye! You should be so lucky as to witness a spectacle of a body such as this!” I joked as Sunny cracked a smile and turned to light her cigarette. Sully on the other hand just grunted and waved me off. Prison dimmed my sense of modesty greatly. If they saw it, they just saw it. No skin off my back.

With a chuckle, I continued on to my room to get dressed. I had to look somewhat nice, going in undercover as we scouted the area around the estate as tourists. The plan Nathan came up with was for Sully and himself to go look by the front end and Sunny and I on a boat across the water, checking out the back to the best of our abilities. I figured since we’d be spending the day together that I should apologize. I knew I was in a heap of trouble and in all honesty could use all the stable help I could get. When I left to go fix myself a cup of coffee like the rest of my “roommates”, I looked around for Sunny but she wasn’t there. “She’s in the shower.” Sully mumbled, opening up the morning newspaper.

“Can you even read that thing, Sullivan?” I chuckled, grabbing a mug from the shelf.

“For the most part. My Italian’s a bit rusty.” He replied, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Well alright then. Where’s Nathan at?” I asked.

“If I know him, he’s probably still asleep.” He licked the tip of his thumb and turned a page of the newspaper as I stopped pouring my coffee.

“Christ, I’m gonna go wake him up.” I groaned in annoyance as I hurried myself to his room.

I barged into Nate’s room clapping my hands and making all the noise I possibly could. “Let’s go, little brother! Time to get up! Up, up, up!” I said sitting on his bed and shaking him. “You’re gonna sleep the whole day away, Nathan. Get up! We got shit to do today!” I was rather enthusiastic this morning. He groaned loudly, pinching the sand from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright, alright! I’m up! Jesus…” he groaned. I left the room with a satisfied grin as he sat up.

“And don’t you dare fall back asleep, Nathan, you hear me?” I nagged, looking in his direction.

“Yeah, Yeah…” he grumbled.

As I turned to leave, I felt myself bump into something and I put my hands out to catch whatever it was. In my hands were the small damp shoulders of Sunny, head and body wrapped in towels. I let out a sigh of relief and embarrassment. “Oh…. hey…” I said, a lump began to form in my throat.

“Howdy…” She said making an innocent face at me as she clutched her clothes to her chest. My chest began to swell as I rubbed my neck.

“Listen… about last night… I’m sorry I came off that way.” I mumbled, staring into her round brown eyes.

“It’s alright. I understand. You can’t afford to fuck this up.” She responded and I shot her a small smile, nodding. After a few seconds, I noticed I was staring for too long and decided to abort.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” I said with a cough before pushing by her. I could hear a sweet giggle of amusement behind me as I left followed by a “Natey, I’m using your room to change.”

He only mumbled in response and I watched her move by him and close the door. Today with her was certainly going to be interesting.

By the time everyone had showered and gotten dressed, we three men sat in the common area… waiting on Sunny. “How long is this girl gonna take? Jesus!” I voiced, standing up to light a cigarette and stand in the balcony doorway.

“Beats me.” Nate said sipping his second cup of coffee.

“She’s a beautiful woman, Sam. Beauty like that takes time.” Sully said simply. I groaned as I took a drag of my cig, blowing the smoke outside.

“Beauty could be speedier!” I shouted in the direction of Nate’s room. After a few more minutes of waiting, I could hear the door opening. “Thank fucking Christ! Let’s get this show on the…… o-on the road…” When she emerged from the room, she was dressed casually in a fitted light green dress with heels to match. Her hair seemed a little longer than I when I saw her last night. She had a fair bit of makeup; her eyes shining with eyeshadow and liner to make her eyes stand out. I felt like if I stared any harder, my eyeballs might fall out of my sockets. ‘Va-va-voom…’ I thought as I admired the curves of her body in silence. I took a quick drag of my cigarette to cover the fact that I was choking on my own words as she sauntered by me to dig through one of her rather large bags.

“You look great, kid.” Sully complimented. She turned her head to give him a sweet smile before looking at Nathan, half asleep in his seat with a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Nate-o! Wakey wakey, baby! We gotta go. Do you guys remember the plan?” She asked, pulling a big purse from the bag and putting her belongings as well as a widescreen electronic.

“What’s that for?” I asked. I’d never seen anything like it. The way technology had grown in my absence was ridiculous. I didn’t even try to pretend to understand most of it.

“Well, it’s a tablet. I figured that if we got close enough by boat, I could hack their computer files and find a digital blueprint of the area. Y’all take one each.” She dug into her bag once more and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with small ear pieces, holding them out for each of us to grab. I picked up the small grey bud and pressed it into my ear. “With these we should be able to hear each other even across the water.” She gave each of us a small black box to put in our pockets as a receiver and she did a bit of typing on her tablet.

Sunny dispersed the electronics and made sure they were all working before we left. Going down the stairs we ran over the plan again. She and I were basically undercover as a couple. ‘This should be fun…’ I thought as we reached the front doors of the hotel, splitting off into pairs as we agreed. I walked ahead of her, swinging my keys around on my finger and adjusting my sunglasses. The clicking sound of her heels trying to keep up with me was adorable. I smiled to myself when she caught up and put a hand on my arm. “Slow down, dammit!” She whined, her Texan accent as thick as ever. I did as she asked and slowed my roll. “Where’s your car?” She asked me.

“Nate told me to rent a vehicle. Didn’t say it had to be a car.” I smirked as we approached the beautiful red bike I chose. I could hear her huffing behind me as I hopped on and prepared the bike, pulling out a small white helmet for her. “What?” I sighed in a moment of annoyance.

“Had I known we were taking a bike, I would’ve put on pants.” She mumbled, snatching the helmet and putting it on loosely, hiking up her skirt to sit behind me on the bike. I chuckled as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

“Hold on tight.” I told her with a devious grin.

‘Stop flirting and get a move on will ya?!’ I heard Sullivan shout through the coms. I heard her grunt as I started up the bike and we headed into the city.

We saw the sights of Italy as I maneuvered us through crowds and traffic jams. I was feeling pretty damn good right now. I was free. Wind blowing through my hair, a beautiful girl on my bike, and I was riding through one of the most beautiful cities in the world. When we reached our destination, I parked right up by a wall and lifted Sunny off of the bike. Which was very easy because she was so small. She hung the helmet on the handle of the bike and adjusted her skirt and hair before following me into the square. “I thought we were supposed to be a ‘couple’. You’re walkin’ too damn fast.” She nagged.

“I’m really not. You’re just short.” I replied looking at her. ‘Sam… just play nice.’ I heard Nate say.

“Yeah! Be nice to me!” She said, raising a brow at me, crossing her arms and tapping her tiny foot impatiently. I scoffed and rolled my eyes before offering my arm.

“C’mon, honey.” I called, my voice dripping in sarcasm. She strutted towards me and looped a dainty hand around my forearm. I felt a surge of electricity as she touched me and sighed. You’d think I’d be used to the touch of a woman by now.

‘You think you guys can get along for a few hours before you kill each other?’ Nathan asked.

“I’ll behave.” Sunny said, glancing about our surroundings and putting on a pair of black framed cat eye sunglasses.

‘It’s not you I’m worried about, Sunny…’ I made a face knowing Nathan couldn’t see as I heard Sullivan laughing heartily, making her smile. And it was a damn pretty one at that. I ran my fingers through my hair and scoffed.

“Don’t worry about me, little brother. My acting is absolutely top notch.” I bragged, looking at Sunny’s skin glowing in the sun. I wasn’t sure just how much acting I’d be doing however…

“We’ll see.” She cooed, running away from me for a moment to look at the coins in the fountain.

I smiled watching her in this setting. The sun bouncing off of her every curve, her hair shining brown in the light. It was like a dream or something. Somehow she was tough as nails and yet still such a sweetheart. I pulled a cigarette and lit it to calm myself as I watched her explore the area a little bit. I trailed behind her a few feet, giving her space to roam; ping pong from place to place and dance around to the street musicians. Where I fucked up is when I let her get a glimpse at the Italian boutique. I stayed as far away from that thing as possible but Sunny just had to go in. She stood at the racks outside of the shop, browsing through clothes and I watched as she reacted to each piece of clothing with a gentle smile on my face. I threw my head back a moment, enjoying the sun, listening to Nate and Sully’s casual conversation on the other end, and checked my surroundings when my heart stopped. I noticed a familiar face. Not a pleasant one either. He was there… hair slicked back, surrounded by two bodyguards, with an amused shit eating grin on his face, his sights settling on Sunny. “Shit.” I swore, briefly forgetting I could be heard.

‘What is it, kid?’ I heard Victor say.

‘What happened?’ I heard Sunny’s twang come through.

“It’s Rafe.” I began.

‘Shit…’ I heard my little brother curse.

“Sunny, don’t look up unless he comes to you, you hear me?” I said with urgency, turning my back.

‘Distract him, Sunny. He’s never met you before. Sam: you get lost. Now.’ Nate barked orders over the coms and the adrenaline began to surge. I made myself scarce, jumping randomly into the bushes nearby.

“I can’t leave. Someone has to look out for Sunny!”

‘Sunny can take care of herself.’ I heard her say under her breath.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know Rafe like we do…” I tried to get her to understand just how dangerous Rafe Adler was.

‘I can handle myself, Sam. If I’m gonna do this, I need it quiet on coms.’ Sunny snapped and the coms went silent. I stared across the street in the bushes, watching her as she continued to browse the clothing, holding up a dress, and he approached her…

Sunny’s POV

I skimmed through the clothing rack, my heart racing at the thought of having to flirt with several people in my ear. ‘God this is embarrassing…’ I thought, pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head. I looked up a moment to meet with a pair of intense green eyes. He wore his hair cut close on the sides with the top gelled back off of his model-like face. His chest was swollen with muscle beneath his fitted black collared shirt. Him being this attractive made flirting with him easier. I bat my eyelashes at him before looking back at the rack “bashfully”. When I looked up again he shot me a million dollar smile, faint dimples decorating his cheeks. ‘What in the sam hell….’ I thought. He was ridiculously good looking. I sent a smile back, playing coy and holding his gaze as I wandered into the boutique.

Inside the store were several dresses and suits. I still didn’t have anything to wear for the auction so I decided to actually browse around. I followed the racks all around the store before my eyes landed on a black lace sleeve. I pulled the short black dress, checking to make sure it was my size and getting excited when it actually was. When I turned and startled myself as I bumped into someone. A hand rested on the small of my back as to keep my from tripping over my heels and I grabbed hold of a surprisingly impressive bicep. “Woah there! Are you okay? You’d better be careful walking around here. It’s kind of a tight fit…” he said, gesturing to the narrowness of the walkways in the store. ‘Holy shit… Rafe Adler….’ I thought, slightly panicking but I had to calm down. I had a job to do and I was damn sure gonna get it done. I began to bat my lashes again and let my fingers linger on his arm a little longer. He tensed up under my touch.

“I suppose they are, huh? I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” I said fidgeting with my fingers. He placed a hand on his chest and smiled.

“I’m just relieved you’re okay. I hope you don’t mind if I ask your name?” He asked, reaching out a hand to me.

“Sunny Spurrs…” I purred as I placed mine in his, lowering my voice to make my accent less harsh.

“Rafe Adler. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you…” he smirked, kissing the back of my hand with a pair of velvety smooth lips. I could hear Nathan fake a gag on the other end of coms and I giggled. Rafe was buying it. “That’s a lovely accent you have there. Southern?”

“Texas.” I smirked as I walked over to the full length mirror to hold the dress up to my body, imagining how it would look on me. “Have you ever been?”

“Never had a reason to but… I think I just found my excuse.” He answered, slickly running his eyes up and down my backside as he leaned against a nearby rack. I straightened my posture to let him get a good look and blushed when we locked eyes in the mirror. “Might I ask what a southern belle like you is doing out here in Italy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?! I’m on vacation.” I whispered to him, passing by him to look at some jewelry. He followed.

“By yourself?” He questioned.

“I don’t need someone else with me to enjoy a vacation. I’m a big girl, Mr. Adler, and I can handle myself.” I told him as I let my fingers ghost over a beautiful pair of earrings.

“I actually believe you.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind a bit of company this weekend? I uh… know a few restaurants in the area with an impeccable selection of wines. And the food here is amazing.”

“I don’t think I have that kind of money, Mr. Adler.” I said looking over my shoulder.

“Please, call me Rafe.” He seemed a bit nervous. “I wouldn’t mind treating a beautiful girl like you.” He told me with a dashing smile. I heard Sam mocking him in my ears.

‘Jesus. Talk about trying too hard.’ He said and all I could do was smile and ignore him.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

“Need some convincing, huh?” He laughed and I shrugged. “Would you like to wear that dress somewhere nice?”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked inching closer to him, propping myself against the same rack as him, placing a hand on my hip. I dared myself to stare him right in the eyes and his gaze softened into something young and boyish.

“There’s a business party I have to attend in a few days. And auction. I’d be honored to have a dazzling woman like yourself as my date.” He asked.

‘Fuck-’ I heard Sam swear.

‘Say yes!’ Nathan shouted over him and I bit my lip as I gazed over Rafe’s face.

“Will there be…. champagne at this function?” I asked.

“As much as you can drink. I’m sure you’ll need it, holding conversations with those stuffy old rich people. But at least I’d be around...” He joked. I laughed to make him feel like he was funny and nodded.

‘Snooze!’ I heard Sam add. Once again I ignored him.

“That sounds really, Rafe. I'd love to join you.” I smiled walking with him to the cash register to pay for my dress and earrings.

“129 euros, ma’am.” The cashier told me and I began to dig into my purse but Rafe stopped me, placing a hand on my back.

“Please. Allow me.” He said, pulling out his wallet and paying for my things. I was taken aback. No one had ever offered to pay anything for me before. Especially not this much.

“Oh, bless your heart! You didn’t have to do that.” I said dramatically. Shit, it was money I didn’t have to spend.

“It’s no problem! Honestly, I really don’t mind.” He said as the cashier folded the dress neatly and placed it in a colorful paper bag for me. Rafe lifted the bag with a single finger and held it in my direction for me to take. “Grazie.” He said to the cashier. With an intrigued smile, I took it from him and we walked out of the store. I gave him the name of a random hotel within walking distance from the one we stayed at and pushed a curl behind my ear.

“I’ll have my driver pick you up. 7pm on Saturday?”

“7pm on Saturday.” I nodded with a smile.

“I’ll look forward to it, Sunny…” he said, swiftly picking up my hand and kissing it again before walking away with his bodyguards nearby. I waited until he was out of sight to speak again and turned on my heels to head down the opposite direction of the street.

“Coast is clear. Let’s get our asses to that boat.” I said.

‘This is not good. Not good at all.’ I heard Sam say in the earbud. I slowed my pace to give him a chance to catch up to me.

‘No it’s not good, it’s great! Because now we have Rafe distracted.’ Sully said.

“I don’t think I’m an acceptable distraction to keep him from getting his hands on that cross, Sully.” I said as I stopped on a bridge, overlooking the water. I leaned over the railing and began to light myself a cigarette. Appearing from the traffic of people was Sam, his hands tucked in his pockets with a cigarette between his lips as well. He moved up next to me, slickly putting a long arm around me. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

‘You’ll distract him long enough for us to get in and out quickly.’ Nathan added.

“I guess…” I said rubbing the back of my neck.

I noticed Sam staring at me, boring holes into the side of my head. “Can I help you, Samuel?” I groaned in slight annoyance.

“You weren’t really fallin’ for that were you?” He asked with a chuckle. It surprised me. If anything I detected a hint of jealousy in his voice. I smiled.

“Why? You jealous?” I called him on it. He snorted and turned his gaze to the calming waters.

“Of the trust fund baby? Never. I just can’t believe he was bold enough to use those corny lines.” He said, taking a drag of his cigarette as I smoked mine.

“What- you think you could do any better?” I smirked. He raised a brow and gave a half nod. I turned to face him, one ankle crossed behind the other with a hand on my hip and a flirtatiously curious expression, waiting.

“What now?” He laughed. I could see a tint of pink spread across his cheekbones.

“Well?... Get on with it!” I egged on with an amused smirk. He scratched his jaw trying to contain his smile of embarrassment.

‘Oh this should be good.’ I heard Sully say and my smile grew bigger while Sam shifted his feet and inched closer to me, towering over me greatly.

“Hi… my name is Sam Drake and you.. are… gorgeous…” he spoke in a lower tone to me; Taking in a deep breath as his eyes admired my body. I shook my head with a laugh and picked up my bag.

“Cute.” I smirked, turning to walk away from him. He hurried to stand in front of me, flicking his cigarette away and shoving his hands in his pockets. Something had changed in the way he looked at me. Suddenly I was entranced by his bright hazel eyes.

“Does cute get me a drink or two with you?” He smiled. There was an annoyingly swept up feeling in my chest and I crossed my arms hoping the pressure would get rid of it.

“Maybe.” I responded with a chuckle.

“Then I’m cute as hell…” he told me roughly, inching his face closer to mine. I felt my lips part a bit as my heart skipped. I was ashamed to say that it actually worked on me. But I wouldn’t let him know that. With a nervous chuckle, I pulled my shades down and fixed my hair.

“We have work to do.” I said pushing by him with a smirk.

‘Better luck next time, kid.’ Sully said.

“Meh. Not my best work but it was worth a shot.” I heard him say as he followed behind me. Working with this man was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

#uncharted 4 #sam drake x reader smut #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake #uncharted smut #uncharted #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake smut #poc #sam drake x oc #samuel drake x oc #samuel drake smut #nathan drake #victor sullivan #elena fisher #rafe adler #rafe adler x oc #nadine ross

[unikornu]

Page 11, Exposure

-Good ol’ wild west, our next target, Boss. And judging by the map we are halfway through, dayum, i’m fucking impressed how much we did. Gage let out a long whistle while eyeballing her pipboy map, approaching together the next target, Dry Rock Gulch. The rocks around were massive and the scenery was very convincing into bringing some dusty cowboy memories. Even weather was fitting their excursion. 

*plop* Lucy was working her jaw on a pre-war gum drops, making Gage nerve vein show up on his face each time she blew a balloon. -Looking how they…*plop* could create pretty much anything, no wonder Nuka World is so tempting as a base *plop*. He took a chance while Lucy mouth was running and gave her pat on a back strong enough that the gum flew out of her mouth. 

- Khyy, what the hell Gage? She coughed repeatedly and shook a fist in his face. 

-You know it’s annoying as fuck and ruining your teeth with all that shit it still has, consider it me taking care of your sweet mouth and my calming therapy. He grinned and turned his head towards the park entrance. 

-----

The wind was pushing small clumps of dry grass around and nothing could be heard from inside the park other than rolling paper cups. At the gate they were welcomed by the warning sign “Danger, Bloodworms!”. Lucy stood behind the raider and eyeballed a sign. -Bloodworms… She froze in place and the blood slowly drained down from the face making her fairly pale, despite the warm rays that were hitting them. Gage was relaxed, even slightly happy. 

- Ha, just some stupid worms? That’s it? Nice change for once, ain’t it Boss? Hm? Gage turned around back to her after not receiving a single response. She was standing, looking at sign and then back at him spinning the knife in the shaking hands. - You okay Boss? Don’t ya tell me you are scared of some crawling dicks? He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it a bit to get at least a word out her. - Boss?

- I…i…just got hit by the sun too much and blacked out for….a second. Uhm…ye worms, let’s go. You first since you are so….eager to stomp them. She lied through her teeth and took a deep breath as they started moving. Going right behind, nervously scanning area around, she pulled out silently a dose of calmex in a hope of injecting just a little bit more but as Gage stopped abruptly walking into his back, she dropped it on the sandy ground and kicked it aside hiding her failed attempt.

-Shit, you sure you are okay? You act freaking weird since we entered. Raider turned around his head just enough to show his angry brow expression and moved back on. Lucy let out a silent sigh seeing her syringe getting lost in a sand as they walked away. 

The robot silhouette showed up behind a corner greeting them with a very stiff cowboy act “yiihaah-doggies-of-the-wild-west”. - Now, that’s interesting…there will be nice spare parts once i’m done kicking the shit out of you, sheriff. Raider cracked his fist preparing to give machine a solid hit through the glass but Lucy pulled his hand away. 

-Just wait a moment goddamit, information first, smash after, right? He hmphed but backed away lighting a cigarette, letting her do the all the wire work. Few sparks in the back and there it was, every information they needed served on a table. 

Sadly as the robot recording was going on about the worms and possible nest the her face was turning more and more into fear expression. Before Gage had a chance continue on his disturbed action as he strolled around with his smoke Lucy was already out of control kicking the robot down and swearing uncontrollably. The sound of metal smashing and thumping reached the ground under, waking up everything lying beneath their feet. They were coming and they were hungry. 

----

- Well, good fucking job Boss…He threw the smoke aside and stuffed a fresh magazine into the rifle. Lucy was feeling the nerves crawl upon her legs and clenching its boney fingers in her throat. She was shaky as fuck trying to defend herself from parasites jumping out of the sand but with each one joining them she was losing this battle, mostly with her mind. Gage noticed her unusual moves, lack of confidence, something was indeed off but there was no time to talk. One of the worms managed to reach under her metal armor with its round jaws filled with hundred needles, biting into her shoulder blade in the back. She dropped to her knees, a fearful scream leaving her mouth just pushed her right hand man to shove more bullets into the crawling filth of this park. As he fended off the last of them he ran right to her, pulled the worm out of her back, ripping some of skin in the process. 

-Argh! That was so slow and gentle ugh. She groaned.

-Fuck, what the hell was that? What the fuck is wrong with you?! He was angry, demanded answers but she couldn’t speak, panting heavily, as she looked up and saw the familiar shadow, standing in front of her. Same one, over and over again, shaping into the man that was giving her orders 200 years ago.

 -“So weak, Feit. I’m disappointed”. He kicked her in the face, sending into unconscious state.  

Now Gage was not just angry but also worried. He noticed some unusual curly smoky shapes slowly fading in the air but assumed they were just radiation doings.  He threw her over the shoulder and carried to nearest shack sighting deeply.  They went through so much already, much worse, be it gators or glowing mirelurks but he still felt like she was hiding something or refusing to open up all of her secrets. 

---

A spiky sensation in the wound woke her up. It took more than one stimpack to make the blood start clotting with this one. Gage threw the empty syringe to the side and awaited in silence for her to stand up. He was calm but certainly not in the cheerful mood. 

- I…think, i need to tell you something more about… She started but the big palm of his hand grabbed her by the throat and pushed to the wall, cutting her sentence. 

- You think?! I fucking thought we trust each other at this point and that includes no motherfucking shit behind the back. He released her shortly, seeing her eyes widening in fear, not wanting to cause any more pain by pushing her to the wall but he didn’t back off. - And what the fuck is that? Dozens of calmex? Are you a fucking addict of sort and missed it at our lovely introduction last time? He pulled a bunch of syringes from the pocket that he stumbled upon while patching her up and put them aside on the broken table. Lucy was ashamed and sad, it was coming to her at one point, deciding it wouldn’t be such a big deal not to tell him about her phobia since bloodworms were pretty rare occurrence. Not this time tho.

 - Okay, fine! I use calmex very often. Got addicted to it even before the war, helps me to calm down, focus on many matters and when phobia kicks in. I’m sorry but i felt like its not that important and would just make me look i dunno… weak, Christ. She slipped down the wall slowly down landing on her ass and hiding her face with a hand. She wasn’t sure if to tell him about the shadow that haunts her as it would sound completely ridiculous to the simple man like Gage.  

- You looked pretty weak back there trying to hide it. Boss, while beating eaten slowly alive. I ain’t like too some shiet out there, fuckin bugs for instance, you should have told me something. He pulled a chair and sat in front of her leaning a bit forward. 

- It ain’t like that Gage, it’s paralyzing me, bringing those flashes from back when….the court decided to teach me a lesson. He popped open a bottle of nuka cola and handed it to her. Whatever sugar it has left will help her to boost up some energy. 

- Go on Boss…nothin to be ashamed off, get it out.  Seeing his surprising willingness to listen she continued after taking a sip. 

- I thought i was doing something good, wanted to deliver justice at every corner. It didn’t matter to me that the man i was defending had a crime past. He found out the court was corrupted, cops too, making up their own evidences and shit. He got pulled up there and i did what felt right, defended him. The judge…didn’t like it…i ended up in a dirty cellar, pulled out of my office and tortured. Gage crouched by her side and put the hand on her shoulder. 

- You don’t have to continue if its too much, Boss. He slowly raised her head with his fingers to look at her. She swallowed hardly yet another sip of cola.

- They said i needed my righteous bitchy mouth cleaned and they brought them….leeches, fucking hell, the disgust and pain… even if time went ahead two hundred years, for me it still feels so recent. Lucy left out a deep sad sight and looked raider in the eye. 

 - After that my..boss found out that calmex would calm me and dull the unnecessary memories and feelings during my jobs, making me more efficient and..i got addicted, pretty badly. Sorry i didn’t tell you, it just felt…stupid to share something like this. She pulled herself up, worried about his response but started putting her gear together, herself too. He stopped her by putting the hands on her hips and turning her around to face him.

- Hey we are in this together, our plan, fight, hell even fears included i don’t care what crap else, we are partners Boss. If u have a problem, we will fucking solve it, okay? I’m sorry for what happened to you, i truly am, fuck, but just…stop hiding shit from me, no matter how dumb it might feel for ya. Alright? They nodded at each other as an agreement and to her surprise Gage handed her back all the calmex syringes. - You will still need them here, that ain’t something u solve in one evening Boss but…we will get to that okay? Now let’s exterminate that shithole.

They came back, dirty from dust and blood, with a few bites too to the Fizztop but again successful, in the favor of Operators. As the drugs cleared out of Lucy blood system she rushed to the bathroom, ignoring the Gage’s yelling behind, pushing the door after her but still leaving an open crack. She had a strong urge to just take off her armor and clothes and scratch everything down with water from her. To her luck there was already one filled bucket under the sink. She undressed to her underwear and without hesitation grabbed a handle and threw it all over herself throwing the empty bucket aside. Gage heard all those noises and curiously peeked through the door small opening. She looked so desperate, rushing and harshly rubbing hands against her skin. Even the black dust around her eyes looked more dramatic than ever, smeared downwards and to the sides. He respected the boss privacy more than ever but this time it was just an act of care, reason, maybe something more that made him cross the line of the door. 

-Hey, its over. Just, shit,  try to calm down Boss. She stopped and looked at him, a bit embarrassed but slightly angry of being disrupted like that in the state she was. 

- I am calming down, right now, can’t ya fucking see?! She groaned but realized shortly he deserved a better response -Shit…sorry, i didn’t mean to snap at ya, you helped me get through back there but…i would like to be alone now. She sighted, grabbed her dumped clothes from the floor and slowly walked past him but his lower arm grabbing her around the waist stopped her. The pile of clothes flew from her hands down as he turned her around and pulled towards him.  

- No…that ain’t an option, not before i get to see that face back to its usual shape. He said with a low voice, almost growling, putting his other hand under her cheek, brushing his fingers through her wet hair.

- What the fuck are y--  He leaned to kiss her before she could ask anything more or worse, punch him in the face. Lucy decided to leave those two options for another occasion as her mind drifted off from the anger and stress, surprised by the raider move but fully committed to these few seconds.

- Shit. As Gage pulled off he expected at least a slap but her hands instead landed around his neck. His confidence allowed him only to stand still, looking down at her as he wasn’t really a man of many words, especially in these kind of situations.

- I didn’t expect you have it in you. She bit her lower lip. -You can go on, if you feel like. She raised her eyebrow at him letting a slight smirk twitch on her face. 

- Fuck..i do feel like, Boss. He grabbed her by the ass and pushed up. She allowed it, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him for another kiss, deeper and longer that round. Gage pushed her against the wall for better balance. 

They kept it for a while but raider didn’t cross the next line yet, didn’t want too and neither respect would allow him this time. He lowered her back as she pulled off. - You look better, Boss, especially with that blush of your face. He joked, trying to relax the atmosphere after, mostly for himself. 

- Thanks to you, i guess. She brushed her cheek and smiled, turning her head away.

They stood for a moment but Lucy decided to not ask any more questions, keeping these incidents as unprofessional as they can get and as much as he wanted to. Felt easier that way, not knowing what next day might bring.  

- You up for a small drink at patio before hitting the bed? She asked while gathering her clothes, scattered around the floor. 

- Actually, why the hell not, Boss. Business talk this time tho. He grinned and followed her to the patio. 

  The rest of the evening they indeed, drank and talked, sharing some more of their past and joking around. She felt good around him, safe even, slowly letting the thought of trust slip in and let her guard down at last. She drank down her last glass of booze before hitting him with last question. 

- Hey, can i sleep with you here, from now on? I still dislike open spaces like that but maybe with you around it will feel better. Gage paused, holding the glass at his lips putting it down slowly. 

- Do you mean fu...? 

- No, no. Just sleeping Gage, jezz. I will keep hands to myself too unless you feel like breaking some rules. She chuckled covering her smirk with a hand. 

- You better keep these hands away from my smokes. He joked back. - Okay, Boss, if you want to, i won’t kick you away, not on purpose at least.        

  It been hell of a time since they both slept with someone, sharing a pair of mattresses. Gage let her fall asleep first before he took down his eyepatch, wrapping it around his hand and turning his back to her. Lucy still kept her knife under the pillow but not for him this round.   

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #screenshot #smooching #thrax's action poses #pose it mod

[willow-salix]

Random bit of fun because it's been the kind of day where I needed to make myself laugh.

Everyone knew that Selene had a love of classic horror films, the ones that Alan said were boring and not in the least scary. The same ones that John always turned his nose up at because the special effects were non existent. Virgil liked them because they always had great music to them and Scott and Gordon just found them hilariously funny. 

But this one was different, while her favourites were made in the 1960s, she had stumbled across one that was positively modern in comparison from the 2010s. She'd put it off over and over again but if there was one thing that hanging out in a floating space station gave you an opportunity to watch all the movies you had previously never had time for. She had quickly run through almost all the movies on her watch list and was down to two, it was scary or the prank show Gordon had insisted she watch, so it was time to watch the scary even if that time was 3am and she couldn't sleep (not that she expected the movie to help). So there she was, camped out on one of the couches in the sunken lounge of the villa, blanket over her legs, tablet balanced on her knees, watching the movie. 

It started with three young girls happily playing tea parties in their attic play room when all of a sudden they dropped their dolls and little tea cups and as one, moved to the windows, opened them, and jumped the fuck out. 

Selene jumped in shock. "Da fuq was that about?" she yelped, eyes glued to the action which had cut to a young single father having one last chance to impress his bosses at the solicitors where he worked. He was a widow, his wife having died in childbirth and he was fast running out of money,  debts mounting, he needed this job.  

The owner of a big old house had died and the young father was the one sent to go through all her papers and check the house over,  looking for her most recent will, before they could sell. Seemed simple enough, but this was a spooky movie so obviously that wasn't going to go well.

He said goodbye to his son, planning on being done by the weekend when his son and the nanny would join in for a weekend in the country, all very pleasant... Selene was now quite bored after the dramatics at the start. She reached for her cup of cocoa and sipped as she watched the young father, Arthur Kipps,  board the train and promptly fall asleep. Cue a dream of his late wife which shocked him enough to wake with a start. A helpful man by the name of Sam offered him a ride from the station to the guest house. 

At the guest house Arthur (whom she could see as non other than Harry Potter no matter how hard she tried) was told he didn't in fact have a room booked and must go away. Strange. But the wife of the landlord took pity on him and let him stay in the attic... The same creepy ass attic the girls had jumped from.

"No Harry! Don't sleep there!" Selene warned but of course the twat didn't listen. Though he appeared to get through the night unscathed and proceed to make his way to the creepy ass house he was looking through. 

Selene jumped and squeaked her way through his first visit when the bitch in black decided to pop her ugly ass face up now and then and waft around in the background when she shouldn't be. 

She got a major case of the sads when a kiddie died due to the black bitch and got rather indignant on Harry/Arthurs behalf when the villagers all seemed to blame him. But by the time he went back again and began to uncover some clues as to the woman in blacks identity and why she might be creeping around like a dick and scaring the shit out of people, Selene was on the edge of her seat and not in a good way. The ghost popped up, eyeballs being all weird and dodgy and it all got a bit much for Selene, though she would blame sleep deprivation from back to back rescues. 

"Expelliarmus! " she yelled, waving her wandless hand at the screen in an attempt to make the spook go away.

She might be a super tough witchy but even she wasn't good with jump scares, it was the dodgy plinky plonky music they used to fuck with your head that always got to her and after she had shrieked and almost dropped the tablet for the fourth time she paused the film and, grabbing laptop and blanket, decided her spaceman would so appreciate a late night visit from his witch. 

She padded her way down the hallway from the lounge on a hunt for her elusive man. She checked Scott's office where he was known to sometimes hang out but found it empty. The kitchen was just as deserted so she let herself outside, taking a deep breath of the cooler night air. Ahh, target spotted and locked on! He was stretched out on one of the loungers arranged around the pool, which to some would seem strange in the middle of the night, but she knew he enjoyed the quiet. Such a shame she was there to fuck that up for him. Sucked to be him right now. 

She tugged his book out of his hands without asking - he didn't need it now- put down the tablet and scooped up the cat that was curled up on his lap, dropping him unceremoniously on the floor.

"My space man." Armstrong gave an outraged meow but she nudged him aside with her foot. "Go find Alan and sleep on his face."

There went his peace and quiet. Much as he loved her she had the subtlety of a cyclone sometimes, even at half past three in the morning. How was it even possible that she was still this bouncy? He tried to catch his book as it was whipped out of his hands but missed.

"I was reading that."

The cat went next and, although he had actually been enjoying the warm weight of the purring creature on his lap, he would never admit it and therefore didn't raise a protest. 

Selene pushed his legs apart, ignoring his questioning eyebrow and settled between them. He let his feet fall to the floor, making room, allowing her to wrap his arms around her middle and lean back against his chest. 

She picked up her tablet and propped it up on her knees. This wasn't going to be pleasant, he had very little faith in her viewing choices. 

"Selene, " he sighed. 

There was that tone that they all heard at least once a day, the one that said he was already done with your shit. Good job she was immune to such things. 

She wiggled to get comfy and smiled to herself. This was much better, her man would protect her from evil jumping ghost ladies that desperately needed to cleanse, tone and moisturise once in a while, he was awesome and could like…shoot it with a laser or some shit, what more could she want in a movie buddy? 

"You know I have no interest in watching this, " he protested weakly as he caught sight of the screen. 

She ignored that too, he'd like it once it got going, she was sure of it, and hit play. 

The dumbass formerly known as Harry had balls, she'd give him that, he hadn't given up and was yet again back in the house of oogie boogies with nothing but a dog for company. The story was unfolding and Selene was actually beginning to feel kind of sorry for the emo ghost, but she still didn't trust her and said as much, very vocally and frequently. 

"Don't go in there…. Shit shit shit creepy rocking chair… ahhh I fucking hate those little wind up monkeys, this, this is why kids were disturbed in the victorian times, look at the fucking toys they give them, what's wrong with the parents…" she paused her mini rant by yelping and hiding her face in John's neck when the ghost popped up again, "not cool, so not cool dude. " 

John but his lip, refusing to laugh at her comments, it would just encourage her and honestly, she was bad enough as it was. She was so animated in everything she did, so open, honest and just full on. 

He much preferred to sit and watch in silence, but Selene was never quiet for long and with four brothers he was used to never getting his own way.  It had been a busy few days and while the others had passed out early, they were both too keyed up to rest. He'd chosen the sensible option of quiet relaxation, obviously she'd had other ideas.

He made an attempt to watch the film but it was almost impossible, having missed the start and with her near constant distractions. He gave up all pretence of paying attention and simply enjoyed having her so close, tightening his arms around her middle.

Once she deemed it safe she looked up again,  uncurling a little from the protective shelter of his arms and managed to sit through another five minutes without freaking out, that was until there was a massive ass house fire and Harry/Arthur's friend Sam told him a bit more about his own story, that's when she started to get defensive and head more into pissed off territory.  

"Why do you keep calling him Harry?" he asked but received no answer as she launched into another tirade. 

"What is wrong with you? Oi, ghost bitch, stop that shit! Don't make me come down there! You might be able to mess with the now non wizard but try a real witch for size."

She cheered and got a little excited when the heroes tried to help the ghost, though the bitch wasn't very appreciative and just did her banshee impression, which lead to Selene screaming back at her, as if that would actually help, making John jump in shock. How was she so loud? 

She relaxed when she thought it was all over, only to bounce back up in the last few seconds in complete outrage. "They should have called me, I'd have kicked that bitches arse in less than a day and been home in time for dinner, now look! Look at that! What the fuck was that? Fucking vengeful ghost, what's wrong with you!"  She pushed the tablet aside in a huff, crossing her arms, sulk mode activated.

The chest she was leaning against was vibrating against her back as he shook in silent laughter. She turned to glare at him, which just made things worse as he lost control. 

John was laughing at her, this was unacceptable.  She nipped his chin in retaliation, trying to hold in a laugh and not admit that she had been a massive wimp. 

He continued to laugh, the lines of stress and worry that had formed over the past few days vanishing smoothing out as he relaxed and let go. She smiled, glad to have helped. Even if her way had been unconventional, it had done the job. 

John hugged her tighter, his amusement fading away to leave him with quiet contentment as she placed the tablet on the ground and rested her head back onto his shoulder. High above them, a bright spot in the dark sky he could just make out his beloved craft, awaiting him, but, as was becoming more and more frequent, he didn't feel the immediate urge to return. They lay in silence for a while, watching the stars, relaxed and at peace. 

"Want to take your witchy to bed so we can get some sleep?"

He smiled, turning his head for a quick kiss. "That's an offer I would be a fool to refuse."

They gathered their things, turned off the lights and returned to the silent villa, bed calling. 

#John Tracy #Selene is the worst person to watch a movie with #it's 3am #There goes his peace and quiet #Thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #Fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic update #fan fic stuff #fun stuff

[burtlederp]

Writing Blurb 8

This is not my best piece of writing, but I’ve been itching for a couple days now to post something else. This is also pt 1 of the third draft of this friggin writing blurb I’ve written, I just wanted to get validation for it now. XD Enjoy, and welcome a new character (well, recycled old character), Damien!

TW: blood, gore, burns

“Oh, gods, I’m so sick…” Damien muttered to himself, relying heavily on the slippery railing to ascend the icy steps to his apartment door. He took some time to retrieve his keys from one of many pockets, and even more time to get the key into the lock, fingers so numb that he might as well have been drunk--which, honestly, would be preferable. The door to his dark, lonely apartment swung open, and he quickly closed it behind himself. He pulled his bag off his shoulder and hung it on the coat rack, except that he missed, it fell to the hardwood floor beneath. But he didn’t notice, stumbling into the living room. He knelt, or rather fell, in front of the cold fireplace, shivering as he pulled off his gloves.

“Another damn sprite… Why… Why’d it have to be now? In th’dead of winter? In fuckin’... Alaska…” He muttered darkly as he pulled logs off the stack by the hearth and heaped them in the ash from that morning’s fire. He paused, trying to remember what came next, and reached for the box of matches. He paused again. “No, I need… Alcohol, then matches…” He held his freezing, shaking hands over the logs, palms down, and tried to summon to mind the chemical formula for ethyl alcohol. And yet, though it was a substance he knew through and through how to create spontaneously from his hands, he could not, for the life of him, remember its chemical make-up. He sat there in his empty apartment, cold, hungry, sick, and tired, hands held out over the wood uselessly. 

He drew his hands back close to himself, shuddering, then keeled over as his stomach suddenly cramped painfully, gasping. He curled up tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Something was in him, twisting his stomach and yanking at his intestines and pulling on his organs like harp strings, and it was awful. He had no way to stop it, he just had to stay still and hope it passed quickly.

Luckily, it didn’t last too long, soon leaving him feeling even weaker and colder than before, his brain feeling like mush. He unsteadily rose back onto his knees, wearily looking down at the still cold, unlit logs, wishing fire would just appear there, and he could be warm. Summoning the energy from somewhere inside himself, he once again held his hands over the hearth, and tried to think, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“C-c...two…” He said to himself. It starts with carbon, right? “H… He? No, no, H...five. H-five. O… No, no! N! N… th-three?” His teeth were chattering, arms aching from the cold. “Fuck it, it’s got hydrogen in it, it’s gotta be flammable…” He growled, and a clear, pungent liquid dribbled from his hands, spattering atop the logs. Tired and desperate for the fire, he didn’t really register that the fluid didn’t smell much like alcohol, and put what he thought was a satisfactory amount on the wood, shaking the last of it from his hands as he reached for the matches. Excited for fire, he quickly pulled out a couple matchsticks, knowing it was going to take a couple to light anyways. He lit one and brought it down to the log.

The damn fireplace exploded. His slow, foggy mind didn’t register the initial reaction, instead he was only aware that one second he was kneeling in front of the supposedly-alcohol-laden logs, freezing his ass off, and the next, he had been thrown across the room into the wall, ears ringing, and he was burning. Flames seemed to have covered the room in an instant, and panic, as fierce as the explosion had been, rose in his throat. He rolled, putting out the flames that danced on his clothes, and got to his feet, thrusting forth his hands as jets of water spouted from his palms. The fire hissed and went out, quickly extinguished by the heavy dousing the whole apartment received. 

Soon, no fire remained, the water stopped. Damien, shakily, looked at his hands with wide eyes, then fell to his knees, screaming. He had been burned, badly, he could feel it on his face, certain spots on his singed clothes where the heat had penetrated and cooked the flesh beneath, and his back and head ached from being thrown back so far--but it all paled in comparison to his poor, crippled hands. The skin covering his hands, and some of his knees, was a patchwork of white and black char, huge pieces of flesh actively beginning to snap as they cooled and curl back. 

He felt sick. He felt light-headed. He couldn’t think, only stare at his mutilated hands, his gasps more like pained, choked cries. He couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs, his mind whirling, but only a single thought present: What the fuck had he lit?

He didn’t have time to ponder it, his eyes rolling up into his head as he collapsed sideways.

--- 

Hovering above him was a gloopy, oozing mass of angry purple slime, large eyeballs and goop inexplicably, unceasingly generating at its top and rolling down, dripping, but nothing ever landed on Damien’s face directly beneath it. Behind it, a large aura of pitch black, with bright white rays glowing out from it in a very simplistic flower pattern. Damien met those constantly rolling, constantly shrinking eyes with his own bored, somewhat exasperated expression. It didn’t really look terribly proud of him. He sighed, resting his arm over his face.

“What the hell did I light?” He groaned.

“C2H5N3, otherwise known as ethyl azide, or azidoethane. It is incredibly explosive and dangerous. And you produced almost a liter of it and lit it point-blank.” The creature replied with a deep, rumbling voice that had no discernible origin. “Damien, how the fuck did you forget the chemical formula for alcohol? Where did you get nitrogen from?!”

“Oh shut up! There’s a new asshole who’s been bouncing around my body all day, fucking up my insides, and you know that!” Damien hissed, sitting up and getting to his feet. “Where is the bitch, anyways?” 

“I don’t know, it’s your mind.” The floating ball of goop responded shortly.

“And you live here, Atom.” Damien snapped, walking away, the creature, ‘Atom,’ following him. 

Damien was no longer within his apartment. Well, he was, his body still lay on the soaked, charred carpets, but his mind did not rest anymore when he had fled the waking world. He spent most of his unconscious hours wandering his mindscape, trying to keep the many residents of his body under control. Some days it was easy, some days it was hard, and some days, there was somebody new.

“Damien, Damien!” A high-pitched voice called, quiet and far away, and Damien looked down to see a mouse carrying a spool of red thread, a needle in its other hand, its giant ears perked towards him. “It’s at the hollow!”

“Thanks, Des,” Damien leaned down, holding out his hand, and the mouse named Despereaux hopped on, skittering up his arm. He moved fast through his own mind, the world warping around him as he ran towards the hollow. 

The hollow was not just a general hollow one would find in any woods--it was a particular one, a place that Damien knew very well in the world outside his skull. Many a summer day and even a few wintry ones he had spent in that lush, well-forested spot, where the earth fell down into a flat clearing of moss and soft grasses, shaded generously by a thick canopy high above. He and friends who had long forgotten him had spent the days when they were free from school here in this place, climbing trees, weaving around the tightly-spaced trunks, gorging themselves on the wild berries that grew in abundance just outside its thick walls of wood. It was, subconsciously, a kind of home for Damien, a comforting memory. A time when life had been so sweet, and not so bitter as it was now. 

He slowed as he approached the trunks that formed the outer rim of the hollow. His eyes scanned the undergrowth for any movement, any sign of something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He was tense, waiting, fists clenched.

“Damien, there--!” Despereaux squeaked suddenly, Damien’s head snapping around just in time to see it, but not in time to react. A huge, golden lion bore down on him, slamming him into the dirt. He was dazed, and it sunk its teeth into his neck, tearing his throat free from him. Damien didn’t scream, he couldn’t, choking on blood as he kicked the monster off himself. The lion flew back, hitting a tree and falling to the ground. It rose to its paws, hissing and baring its huge fangs as Damien got to his feet, hand clutching his throat, from which blood poured. He glared at the lion, and realized it was not one, not entirely. Rising from its two-color mane was a proud set of antlers, on its back a huge pair of blue and green feathers with gold spots, a matching plume on the end of its long tail, and a dappled pattern of various shades of gold covering its flank. It was, in short, a very fancy lion, but Damien didn’t care. 

He scowled, leaning on a tree, looking down at his blood-covered hand, the wound starting to stretch itself back over the empty space where his windpipe was supposed to be, healing rapidly. “This isn’t my first time doing this kind of thing, you bitch,” He rasped, his voice slurred as he gargled blood, throwing himself towards the monster, his own teeth bared. The creature ran at him as well, trying to swipe with one large paw, but he ducked. A sword materialized in his hand and he slashed the monster across the chest. It yowled, dodging his next attack, and snapped at his middle, though its jaws closed on air. 

Atom and Despereaux stood on the sidelines, watching as Damien took a harsh blow to the torso. They did not step in to help Damien: they couldn’t, not really. Damien had made it clear in the past that he did not want their help. This wasn’t their body, nor their mind, it was Damien’s, so it was his fight alone, he insisted. They didn’t need to help anyways, not with this one, as was soon apparent as Damien dropped the sword in favor of clasping his hands together and smashing the lion’s jaw shut so hard that the end of its forked tongue was cut clean off. As it staggered backwards, trying to keep its footing, Damien stepped forwards, took hold of one of its great antlers, and yanked, snapping it in half. The lion reeled away, and took off into the undergrowth.

“This ain’t over!” He screeched after it, his voice hoarse, leaning heavily on a tree, blood still trickling from his throat. He lowered his head, gingerly feeling his neck, that familiar, terribly unpleasant exhaustion that he could only get from wounds he sustained here creeping into himself.

“Are you alright?” Atom asked gently. 

“Yeah… I’m fine…” Damien wheezed. “Gods, I’m going to be so sick when I wake up…”

“Yes, about that,” Atom floated into his view, that odd dark aura obscuring the forest behind him. Distantly, an alarm was ringing, the ground beneath his feet vibrating. “You probably ought to do that now.”

#writing blurb #writing #my writing #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: burn #tw: burns #damien #superhero #superhero character #my oc #mine #oc #this is only the beginning of his bad day #it only gets worse from here friends

[dispatchvampire]

Out Go The Lights

Pairing - Steve Rogers x OC, 

Warnings: Some swearing, minor violence, nothing terrible

Summary: Clint and Delilah go to a haunted house within a haunted house. Shenanigans ensue. It’s amusing and traumatic for everyone. 

A/N: This is part of the Slow Burn series, and in the same universe as Brighter Than the Sun. It’s out of order but I wanted to share it because of Halloween. 

“Come on, HP. You know you wanna go. It’ll be fun.” She kicked her bare legs over the side of the table like a small child with her well-loved canvas shoes barely hanging on to her toes. It wasn’t really shorts and tank top weather, but then, it wasn’t like Delilah got cold, either. She reclined on the empty workbench across from her friend, watching him painstakingly assemble some part for his Iron Man suit. 

Tony pushed his welding goggles up his forehead with a disapproving frown. “Oh yeah, absolutely. Random people jumping out at me and yelling. Not at all flashback inducing or bad. Not to mention it’s a haunted house within a haunted house. Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

The Junior League Haunted House was an annual charity event to raise money for Toys for Tots as well as their ongoing youth initiatives. From all accounts it was one of the most fun haunted houses in the city. The fact that it was in a building that dated back to almost the Victorian period and was rumored to have its share of spooks and specters was just a bonus. 

Now it was her turn to frown. “Since when do you believe in ghosts?”

“Let’s just say I don’t not believe and leave it at that, can we?” He readjusted the equipment in front of him and cocked his head as he looked it over. “I would have thought Capsicle would take you. He seems like he’d be into that kind of thing.” 

“Steve…” she rolled her gaze toward the ceiling as she considered how to phrase her thoughts. “He doesn’t quite see the point of going to a haunted house and I’m still working on having him wear a costume to your party, so I need to pick my battles. Not to mention the whole ‘people leaping out at him’ thing might be a bad deal.”

“See? It’s not just me!” Tony crowed triumphantly with his welding torch held aloft over his head. 

“Boss, Agent Barton is outside, shall I let him in?”

Tony nodded and flipped his welding helmet down. “Yes please do, FRIDAY. Especially if it means an end to this tedious conversation.”

“God, you’re such a child. It’ll be fun. I think you’re allergic to fun.”

“It’s not my fault your idea of fun is both dull and trite.” 

The glass doors to Tony’s lab whispered opened behind her, and in strolled Clint in a vintage Dokken shirt with cutoff sleeves over a pair of jeans that was more shreds than actual denim and his armguard. He winked as he passed her by on his way to the workbench where Tony was modifying a different part of his suit. 

“Yeah… so those new explosive arrowheads you wanted me to test?” The way he cringed when he spoke had the engineer powering down his arc-welder and giving the man his full attention.

“How bad?” he asked as he raised his helmet again.

“More sparkler on the Fourth of July, less ‘Death from Above’.” Clint pulled a box from the threadbare pocket of his jeans and slid them gingerly across the table toward Tony. 

Her dark-haired friend stared at the box for a long moment before heaving a sigh and dropping his face shield back into place. “Okay. I’ll add them to my list of shit to do in the relatively near future.”

The blond beamed as he slapped him on the arm. “Thanks man.” 

“Can I get a light?” Tony held up his welding torch in Delilah’s direction. She’d taken to lighting it for him when they worked on her brace and cane, prior to the nanite installation. He’d helped her so much, it was really the least she could do. 

She hopped off the table and lit him up with a flick of her fingers. “Only because I love you.” She slapped his ass before wandering across the room to the fridge for a bottle of water. 

“Buttering me up isn’t going to make me go, Hotstuff.” He looked over his shoulder in her direction and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear his smirk. 

Amused by their interaction, Clint hopped up on the table where she’d been sitting, effectively stealing her spot. “Where are you trying to drag him?” 

She sighed dramatically and cracked open her beverage. “I got two tickets to the Junior League Haunted House and Nervous Nellie over there won’t go with me.” Delilah couldn’t help the pout that followed that sentence. It had been a while since she and Tony had hung out outside of him making her gear and she missed his cranky butt. 

The archer’s big blue eyes lit up the moment she said ‘haunted house’. “Ooooh, the one inside the actual haunted house?”

Dee nodded eagerly. “Yeah! It’s supposed to be great. I figured we could make a night of it.”

“Cap doesn’t want to take you?” 

Her lips pursed as she thought about her conversation with her boyfriend. “Yeah, he’s not really into it. He’d go, but he doesn’t really see the point. Plus the moment someone jumped out at him, he probably wouldn’t react well.” 

Clint blinked several times as his eyes unfocused imagining just such a scenario. “Yeah, probably for the best.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll go,” he offered with a nonchalant one-shoulder shrug. 

“Really?” She was practically bouncing on her toes in glee. 

“Sure! Phil’s off on a mission, so we’ll hang out. It’ll be great.” 

“Fantastic, I’m glad that’s settled. Now both of you, get the hell out of my lab!” 

Tony was on the receiving end of one stuck-out tongue and one obscene hand gesture as they left. 

“He’s a spoilsport.”

“Allergic to fun, I’m telling you.” 

********************************************

The ride uptown was pretty quick, just a couple subway stops before they were out on the street and headed to their destination. 

Delilah had changed into more appropriate outdoor attire of a white cable-knit sweater, corduroy skirt, and black riding boots. Steve had been very appreciative of the look before they left. Clint had opted for a faded green henley that showed off his muscular chest and arms over the jeans. Dee promised Tasha she’d defend his virtue if she had to. 

The line to get into the three story Queen Anne Victorian mansion wasn’t too bad for mid season. It helped that Dee’d already scored the tickets, but still, they didn’t have to spend the evening fending off the cold. 

The ground floor was opulence defined. Persian rugs, dark wood paneling, imposingly large chandeliers, the works. It was straight out of a Hollywood backlot period piece. Only she got the feeling most of what she was seeing was, in fact, the real deal. Their journey started when they mounted the stairs, passing out of the well-lit parlor and into the daunting blackness of the second floor. 

“You wanna hold hands?” Clint whispered. She’d felt the heat of him moving a bit closer to her, though she wasn’t sure if it was for his protection or hers. 

She snorted, her eyes moving as she heard a noise coming from the darkness on her right. “I’m good, bud. You?” They were the only two in their group and the further they made it down the hall, the more oppressive the feeling around them became. 

The archer straightened away from her and squared his shoulders. “Nah, I’m—fuck me running with a chainsaw!” he squealed and jumped behind her as the door at the end of the hallway shot open, revealing a neon-lit corpse approaching them, head in hand. 

“Okay, that’s bad.” The ‘ghost’ moved pretty spryly for someone whose eyeballs were now waist-high, and the attention to detail and realism was disgustingly impressive. 

The ‘spectre’ shrieked and ran at them, chasing them until they rounded a corner, at which point, Dee and Clint paused for a minor hysterical freakout breather. “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday,” she huffed out between pants. “You were saying?” She couldn’t resist tweaking him just a bit, just because. 

“Oh whatever, dude.” He took her hand decisively, almost like he dared her to say something else. 

They walked for a bit, hearing noises and footsteps, seeing things move out of the corners of their eyes, feeling people in the darkness move closer to them and then away again. It was a very creepy vibe and they were both winding up for the next jump-scare. 

“That was a pretty high-pitched scream for an assassin,” she mused softly as they neared another door. 

The growl next to her was totally worth it. “It wasn’t a scream and let us never speak of it again.” 

“Fair enough,” she agreed magnanimously. When nothing jumped from behind the door, she held it open for him with her hand out. “Shall we?”

The darkness of the hallway gave way to a weirdly lit funhouse area with strangely patterned walls and floors and a strobe light that was almost nauseating to observe. An agonized wail drew their attention to the corner of the room where a person dressed in a white clown suit with crazy red hair and a rictus grin painted on his neon white face was pulling the intestines out of a woman strapped to a table. It was disturbing as he looked over his shoulder and noticed them, running at them with the innards in his hands. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” Dee pulled her friend along behind her surprisingly quickly for someone with a limp until they made it to the next room. The performer got a lot closer a lot faster than she would have preferred. 

“That was interesting.” He sounded amused, like he knew they were even now and had no problem rubbing it in. 

“No goddamn clowns,” she muttered darkly. 

Clint picked up her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles as he exhaled a quick laugh. “Noted.”

The next couple scares got even closer still, with each performer chasing them, and they were only just able to flee to safety. It was an adrenaline rush and a half, but even then, her feeling of oppression--like something bad was about to happen--never left her. 

“They’re not allowed to touch you, right?” Clint asked as they mounted the stairs to the third floor. 

“I wouldn’t think so,” she answered, though her tone said she wasn’t quite as sure as her answer would indicate. 

The feeling of unease that had beset her the moment she walked in the building was now a buzz in her head, an itch just out of reach, and only getting stronger. It was almost enough for her to want to mention it to Clint, but she knew he’d laugh at her and then she’d have to kick him in the shins again. It was too much effort. 

They left the stairwell and were immediately enveloped in a kind of darkness that qualified as sensory deprivation. No sound other than their breathing and her heart in her ears, they walked along a path indicted by a rope on one side, with Clint in the lead. Delilah wasn’t happy about bringing up the rear, but given that they were a party of two, her options were minimal. 

From the corner of her eye, a white light drew her attention and brought her to a halt. It was across the room, and bobbing around, but it was clear as day. 

“You see that?” she murmured, as she tapped his hand. As soon as the words left her mouth the light cut out. 

“See what?” 

Hell. “Nevermind.” It wasn’t something she felt like explaining but as they walked along, she knew they weren’t as alone as it seemed. The lights appeared and disappeared again a couple times, dancing closer each time before winking out and since Clint didn’t bring them up, she didn’t either. 

It felt like they’d been walking forever in the darkness and the suspense was unbearable, but then it happened. 

A hand gripped her wrist firmly and she snapped. Shrieking high enough to make glass vibrate, she yanked her wrist toward her body and used the momentum to smash the person who grabbed her in the face with her fist at least three times that she could tell. When the scare happened, with an airhorn going off loudly all around them as the lights blazed to life suddenly, what Clint saw had him doubled over in laughter. 

Delilah stood over her victim, victorious as she kept a foot on his chest, hands up like she’d learned in training. Natasha would be so proud. The kid on the floor would have been rolling around in pain, but the blood flowing out of his nose and down his cheeks when he pulled up his black faceless mask said everything his moans of pain couldn’t. 

“Jesus, lady!”

All at once she came back to herself, realizing where she was and what was going on. “Oh fuck! I’m so sorry! You shouldn’t have touched me, but I’m so sorry! Holy shit! I’m so sorry…” she repeated it as she gingerly removed her foot from his chest and took a step back. 

“Easy, killer.” Clint, wiping mirthful tears from his cheeks, leaned over and helped the kid to his feet, breaking into giggles as the young man in the black bodysuit’s legs crumpled underneath him. “She really rung your bell, huh, kid?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen!” the teenager whined as another performer came through to see what the ruckus was about. As the archer handed him off to his coworker, his blackened eyes widened comically. “Holy shit! You’re Hawkeye!”

Clint was at her side in an instant later. “Time to go.”

Dee couldn’t agree more, doing her best to keep up with his quick pace as he squired her out of the room and on to the next scene. And if she happened to hear a snickering giggle coming from an empty corner of the room right before they left, well, that was between her and the wall. 

The scenes after that were tame to the point of being mundane. Apparently when you pummel a performer, word travels quickly. By the time they made it outside, they were greeted by a small crowd that had gathered around the ambulance and the police car at the front of the mansion. 

Clint’s lips twitched, but wisely he kept quiet. Hoping for a quick and discreet exit, they left the grounds and headed in the opposite direction of the way they came. “We’ll get an Uber,” he told her as they crossed the street away from the scene of the crime. 

“No need,” a voice behind them called, bringing both of them to screeching halt. They turned slowly to see the grinning face of one Tony Stark, looking like a cool suburban dad in his leather jacket and trendy jeans that cost more than most of the cars parked on the street, strolling up to them looking like he was having the time of his life. “How’s it goin’, Boom Boom? Though ‘First Punch Ford’ has a nice ring to it. Maybe ‘The Schenectady Steamroller’? No? ‘Midtown Mauler’, then?”

The nicknames broke Clint, and it was all she could do to keep him upright and off the sidewalk as he dissolved into a heap of gasping, sloppy giggles. 

“He shouldn’t’ve touched me,” she offered defensively. She was horrified that she’d hit a performer, but he was actually pretty lucky she’d only punched him. A few times.

“Uh huh. Pretty sure he’s not going to be seeing or touching anyone else for the next couple days. Go you!” Tony linked his arm with hers, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to her temple as he led them down the sidewalk to the waiting black Mercedes with Happy and Steve both leaning against it with matching crossed arms and disappointed looks. Over his shoulder, he yelled down the block, “Catch up, Legolas! Let’s go get some tacos.”

Happy opened the back door and Delilah folded herself into one of the seats. She was followed by Tony and Clint, whose eyes were so red, it looked like he’d been binge watching ‘This Is Us’. Last but not least was the love of her life, Steve, in his brown bomber jacket and jeans that really magnified the national treasure that is his ass. He had The Look™ and she shuddered to imagine the lecture she had coming her way.

The ride to the taqueria was filled with Clint’s highly embellished debrief of their adventure in the haunted mansion, right down to the sound effects. Surprisingly enough, he left out the part about him screaming like a banshee at the headless corpse. By the time they rolled up to the restaurant, all the guys were laughing and she was left with a flaming blush and a smile made entirely of rue. 

Delilah got out of the car last, taking Steve’s hand as she emerged on the sidewalk. So far he hadn’t really said too much too her, and she was honestly mortified. She would never want to embarrass him with her actions and this totally qualified. Pausing on the sidewalk just outside the doors to the restaurant, she turned to her boyfriend. “Look, babe—” 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his side and kissing her forehead, effectively silencing her. “So…” he gazed down at her with laughing eyes and the most affectionate smile she’d ever seen. “You were the one worried about my reactions, huh, Sugar Ray?”

The nickname brought an unbidden bark of laughter to her lips as she lightly slapped his chest. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, chuckles.”

His beautifully perfect face wrinkled up into a shit-eating grin as he grabbed the door with his free hand. “Don’t mind if I do… slugger.”

#Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton is a good bro #this was silly

[artemisnightingale216]

Love and What We Do in its Name: Ch 3- Hopeful

Authors Note: I WROTE EIGHT PAGES IN ONE DAY! I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF RIGHT NOW! I’m also proud of how the chapter ended, so look forward to that! Also, the audio recording for Chapter 1 will be coming out soon! Be sure to give @sagetheai a follow to see when that will be coming out!

Prologue

Chapter 1- Unemployed

Chapter 2- A New Beginning

Angel was practically dragging Ottilie behind him as they made their way toward some unknown destination, his hand wrapped around her wrist so they wouldn’t be separated. This was helpful since his legs made his strides twice as long as hers, but it also left her sprinting behind him. He kept evading her questions whenever she asked where they were going and simply telling her to keep following him.

“Will you at least slow down?” she asked, out of breath and trying not to trip in her heeled boots.

“We can’t slow down! If we don’t hurry, it might be gone!” he replied, only seeming to pick up the pace. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is!”

“Well, maybe if you told me where we were going,” she pointed out, “I might have a bit more motivation!”

“Just trust me!” he shouted.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I can’t-.” She made a wrong step in her boot and it twisted to the side, almost sending her tumbling to the ground. He gripped her wrist tighter and kept her from falling. Rather than setting her on her feet, however, he picked her up and placed her under his arm. “Angel! This hardly seems appropriate!”

“What do you care? You’ve been naked in front of an entire room before! And on multiple occasions!” he stated.

She grimaced slightly. “That is an entirely separate matter and has nothing to do with this definition of appropriate! Now please stop manhandling me! I am not a sack of flour!” She kicked her legs slightly as she tried to wiggle from his arms, but the fact that he had four gave him the upper hand and made her look childish.

“Baby doll, I love you to pieces, but you’re slower than a turtle on the back of a snails ass,” he shook his head.

Her face turned redder than it already was. “Well maybe if you were not such a grand-daddy-long-leg, I could keep up with you.”

“Oh, hush up,” he said as he pulled out a ball gag and shoved it in her mouth; a few people stared at them as they passed, but said nothing as they’d seen weirder things in Hell. “We’re almost there anyway, so quit your squimin’.” She muttered something, but he couldn’t make it out with the thick piece of rubber in her mouth. “Sorry, toots. You’ll have to speak up. I can’t quite hear you.” He laughed mockingly, staggering a bit as she somehow managed to twist her body around and kick him in the rear. “Ow! Hey, watch it!” She clasped her hands together and fluttered her eyes innocently up at him. “Yeah, right. Your horns hold up your halo.”

The rest of their walk was spent in relative silence. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were both happy to be back in each other presence. Ottilies off-handed comments that Angel could always recognize as teasing left him laughing like nothing else could; unlike most people, she was receptive of his dirty jokes and even gave them right back. Angel had this way about him of always seeing past her blank exterior, getting closer to her than anyone had ever dared or tried. She could almost imagine their relationship was like that of a brother and sister. They would tease each other more often than not, but at the end of the day it just showed how much they cared about each other.

Ottilie looked around at their surroundings, realizing she’d never been to this area of the Pentagram before, but that had more to do with the fact that she had never really traveled much farther than from work to home. There seemed to be a lot more casinos and bars in this area, but more on the high end side than the low class establishments she had gotten used to passing. The people seemed much better dressed as well; there were more people staring at Angel for the way he was dressed than at her, but a part of her wondered if that had to do with the fact he was carrying her around like he was while another wondered if they had other thoughts on their brain. She could only guess that they were somewhere near the North side as she had always heard that it was much nicer there than most other areas.

Angel didn’t even glance at any of the buildings around them, leaving her to wonder once again where they were going. His pace picked up slightly and they came to a rather sizeable clearing, something that wasn’t found often in Hell. She looked at the ground and noticed him step onto a rainbow shaped path filled with holes. She followed the path with her eyes and came upon a sight she was not expecting to see.

Ottilie had heard a lot about this since it’d opened, mostly on the news whenever they felt like dragging it further through the mud, but had never seen it in all of its glory. The backside looked like any other hotel she’d seen, a small tower sticking out of the top right corner of the roof being the only difference, but the front side gave her a jolt of familiarity. It brought her back to her first day in Hell, looking around at the structures that seems so familiar yet she did not know them, and how different they had looked compared to now. The structure was like that of a grand mansion with two towers connected to balconies and a single long hall connected to the one on the left hand side, but the front doors were protected by a tall awning held up by four thick pillars. The doors were also lit up in bright lights all along the front side that cast shadows in what she could only describe as disco-style, the bright ball of reflective glass having once been very popular a few decades back. Her gaze was drawn toward the fuschia colored billboard, the word ‘Happy’ colored pale pink and lit up in lights while the ‘Hotel’ below it was simply painted black, but the ‘t’ had been replaced by a key with an eyeball on it.

Now would have been a good time to pull the ball gag out of her mouth as Angel jogged up the short flight of steps leading to the set of double doors, which were fitted with stained glass that displayed intricate pictures of apples, but too many questions were running through her mind. The loudest being why had he brought her there. It was not as if she was looking to redeem herself. She could not even remember what she had done to end up here, but even then she wasn’t sure if she’d try for it.

Angel didn’t bother knocking, seeing how he was a guest there, and simply pushed the door open. After stepping into the entryway, he closed the door behind him and walked further into the hotel. He either hadn’t realized he was still carrying her or he simply didn’t care, but either way she was still tucked under his arm with a fairly sizeable ball gag in her mouth.

Ottilie glanced around, only able to see things for a second before they passed them. Both the crown molding and wallpaper were decorated with depictions of apples, which seemed to be a common theme for the interior and exterior design. Hanging on the walls were countless pictures that mostly featured a pretty young woman, some of them featuring her as a child, with long blonde hair and bright red cheeks that contrasted her pale white skin. A few others showed her next to people she couldn’t quite identify, but more than a few she could recognize even at a glance.

Angel stopped in the foyer and looked around for a few seconds like he was trying to find someone. Ottilie looked up at him, about to remove the gag and ask what he was doing, when he suddening shouted, “Hey Queenie! You here?”

Ottilie rubbed at her ear, her expression slightly miffed at the verbal assault so close to her person. “A little more warning would be nice,” she said, but the words were lost around the gag.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold that thought,” Angel said dismissively. “Queenie! Where the fuck are you?” Ottilie could only wonder if whoever he was looking for was actually named Queenie or if it was just another nickname. “Ugh. Why is she only ever around when I do shit I don’t want her to see but not when I actually need her? Queenie! You better answer me or I’ll-!” There was a sudden loud crash followed by what sounded like an angry cat hissing and then more crashes followed. He suddenly looked worried and his entire body tensed. “Oh no!” He quickly set her down on her feet and placed his hands on her shoulders as she finally pulled the gag out. “Wait here! I’ll be back!” He started running down the hall. “Don’t worry, Pussyfoot! I’m comin’ for you!”

“Angel Dust, wait!” Ottilie called after him, but he’d already disappeared from sight.

She stood there for a moment before nervousness set in and she looked around, trying to find something familiar, but that was impossible in a place where she’d never been. She felt awkward just standing there, but it would be rude of her to sit without an invitation, so she stayed in that spot like she’d been told.

She was playing with the fabric of her dress skirt when someone came barreling through a side door in the room. She didn’t get a good look at him because he ran off just as quickly as he’d come into the room, but from what she’d seen he appeared to be a winged cat demon. He also looked pissed beyond all reason and this only seemed to be confirmed when he yelled, “Where the fuck did you go? You’d better hope I don’t get my hands on you cause when I do, I’m going to mount your stupid head on the wall!” The only reply he received was a devious chuckle, which oddly seemed to crackle like it was coming through a microphone, before he dashed out of the room.

She could hear more running and shouting throughout the halls, some of it followed by more crashes, but it was hard to determine just where it was coming from. She thought she heard Angel on more than one occasion and had to fight the urge to go looking for him, not wanting to get lost in the enormous building, especially when it sounded like he wasn’t terribly close to her anymore.

“Husk, you know this is pointless, right? Even if you could find him, you’d never be able to take on Ala-!” a voice shouted before a woman stepped into the hall and noticed Ottilie standing in the foyer, their eyes meeting and sharing a look of confusion. She let out a large puff of air, like she was out of breath, and stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The woman was short, only coming to Ottilies chin, and almost everything about her was tiny. Her skin was gray and knee length hair a pale white, the tips a light pink and thick bangs parted to the right to cover her eye. Her left eye was a pale peach with white irises and was framed by thick black lashes, but all Ottilie could see of the right was a bright pink ‘x’. Her nose was beak shaped and a bit large on her face while her mouth was full of sharp fanged teeth. She had a curvy figure and slender waist, but neither her hips nor breasts were very wide. She wore a white sleeveless dress with a dark grey belt around her waist and matching fringe on the hem of the short skirt, one of the straps falling loosely off her shoulder, a dark grey ‘x’ stitched over either breast. Her arms were covered by dark gray gloves that ended halfway past her elbow, one being fingerless and the other not. Her boots were tipped with white lace and also colored dark gray, the right having light pink stripes lining it, the heels not very tall or adding to her height. A dark grey choker was wrapped around her neck and the falling strap of her dress revealed her matching bra strap underneath.

Ottilie stepped back as the woman stepped forward, her expression blank but her actions showing fear. “I-I-Well-Um-.”

The woman noticed her shaking slightly and raised her brow. “Are you okay?” Ottilie didn’t reply and the woman sighed in frustration, suddenly looking very miffed. “You’re not another junky, are you? Look, you can’t just crash here and we don’t have anything you can sta-.”

“Vaggie!” another feminine voice called out as they heard someone coming toward them and the woman from the paintings came up beside the white haired demoness. “Did you find Husk?”

“No. I was too busy getting rid of another junky,” the white haired demoness, Vaggie, gestured toward Ottilie angrily.

The blonde demoness looked at Ottilie and tilted her head curiously, one brow raised in question. “She doesn’t look like a junky.”

“They never do, Charlie,” Vaggie shook her head as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Does she look strung out to you?” Charlie asked, no hint of sarcasm in her voice as she tapped her chin.

Vaggie went to say something before she took another look, their eyes meeting again but gazing deeper this time. “Well… no, but why else would she be here?”

“Maybe she’s here to sign up for the program or-,” Charlie started before she smiled brightly and snapped her fingers like she’d just made an amazing discovery. “She must be here for the maid position!”

Ottilie looked confused by this, but they didn’t seem to notice.

“I guess that makes sense,” Vaggie said after a moment of thought. She looked back at Ottilie and offered a somewhat friendly smile. “Sorry for getting hostile with you. We’ve had a problem with strung out assholes coming in here to crash for a night and then skipping out the next day.”

“Yeah,” Charlie laughed nervously as she scratched the back of her head. “So, when will you be able to start working?”

“Charlie,” Vaggie rubbed her temple, “we talked about this. You can’t just hire someone on the spot. You have to actually interview them.”

“Oh yeah, right, right,” Charlie nodded. “I was getting to that.”

“Uh huh,” Vaggie rolled her eyes, clearly not believing her for one second. “So how did you hear about the position?”

“I came here with Angel Dust,” Ottilie said under her breath, unable to meet their gaze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Charlie asked, leaning in a bit closer to hear her better.

“I came here with Angel Dust,” Ottilie repeated, but all they heard was the name as she was unable to make her voice go above a mumble.

“Angel Dust?” Vaggie practically shrieked in exasperation.

“Oh, so you’re a friend of Angel Dust, then?” Charlie clasped her hands together.

“Okay, how is she not a junky!?” Vaggie threw her hands in the air. “Now we definitely shouldn’t hire her!”

“Vaggie!” Charlie reprimanded. “Sorry about that. Vaggie and Angel Dust have a bit of… bad blood.” There was another crash from somewhere within the hotel and they all cringed. “Why don’t you go do damage control and I’ll handle the interview?”

Vaggie let out a long sigh and started to walk away. “If they throw a shoe at me again, someone is paying for it!”

Charlie turned back to Ottilie, a kind smile on her face. “So, are you ready for the interview? We should probably go somewhere more quiet or we’ll never get anywhere with it.” She gestured behind her, pointing somewhere further into the hotel.

Ottilie stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. She didn’t know Charlie, but from what she’d seen both on the television and the last few minutes she seemed like a nice person. She also finally understood why Angel had suddenly carted her off like he had; he’d been trying to get her a job, but obviously hadn’t done a very good job at presenting that fact as represented by the fact that he’d abandoned her as soon as they arrived. She should have been jumping at the chance to have a new job after having tried so hard to find one for so long, but at the same time she was still scared being in a strange area around people she didn’t know.

Despite all that, she felt a small spark of hope blossom in her chest and clung on to it, letting it fuel her until it outweighed her fear. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, her hands clasping in front of her to keep from fidgeting and met Charlies gaze. Once she was sure of herself, she nodded her head.

******

Charlie had led Ottilie through the halls, strolling along them and somehow not get lost in the maze of corridors, and brought her to an office that looked to have once been a study of some sort. Much like the foyer and entry hall, the room was covered in pictures of Charlie; a great many were of her in her youth, some featuring a tall woman with extremely long blonde hair, and then there were the ones with the same man that anyone in Hell would recognize in an instant. Obviously Charlies father, the two bore too much of a resemblance to each other for anyone to deny their relation. In each portrait, he looked at Charlie with such love and devotion, both of them smiling without a care in the world.

Ottilie wondered briefly if the woman was Charlies mother. She and Charlie looked nothing like each other aside from the fact they were both beautiful young women. She also seemed to have more of a commanding presence than the man did; while he was commanding in his own right, she called attention to herself in a cold and domineering way. Ottilie also noticed that, while Charlie was smiling in their portraits together, she looked far less happy than with her father and even nervous around the woman, like she was afraid to make a wrong move around her.

“So, this is simply a formality. I’m sure your perfect for the job, but Vaggie said we should start doing interviews after the last few incidents with the maids that have worked here,” Charlie said as she rooted around in a file cabinet, pulling Ottilie away from her thoughts. She seemed to find what she was looking for and set in on a table. “Would you like some tea before we get started?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ottilie said quietly, nodding her head in case Charlie couldn’t hear her. “What happened to the other maids?” she asked as Charlie set about preparing the drinks.

Charlie paused as she was putting tea bags into the hot water she’d gotten out of the faucet, her eyes going wide and smile falling for a few seconds before she righted herself and smiled awkwardly. “Well,” she scratched the back of her head, “they sort of left without notice. Vaggie kept getting mad each time it happened so she insisted we start picking them out more carefully.”

“So Vaggie is your business partner, then?” Ottilie inquired, her hands folded neatly in her lap so she wouldn’t fidget with them.

“In a way, yeah! None of this would really be possible without her!” Charlie gestured around them, referring to the hotel itself. “She’s more than just my business partner, actually…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and Ottilie could almost swear she saw her blush brighter than her cheeks.

“Oh, so you’re dating,” Ottilie said. It was hardly a question. She could tell by the way the two interacted around each other that they must have been in a deeper relationship that went beyond just business.

“Um… yeah, actually,” Charlie nodded, surprised that she’d caught on so fast. She poured the now brewed tea into two cups and set one down in front of Ottilie, both tea cups sitting on saucers that matched the apple designs painted onto the china. She brought over cream and sugar as well and sat down on the couch opposite to Ottilie.

There was a desk and two chairs in front of it sitting on the opposite side of the spacious room, but Charlie had steered her over to the sitting area instead when they walked in, saying something about this being more comfortable for both of them. Ottilie had to admit that she was right. There was something she didn’t like about another person sitting behind a desk and asking her questions. Perhaps it was the way the desk made her seem less important than the person behind it.

Ottilie couldn’t help but notice the way Charlie sat. Not unlike herself, her back was straight and she wasn’t sitting all the way back against the couch like most people would. Her legs were crossed at the knees whereas Ottilie crossed hers at the ankle, but that may have had something to do with the fact that Charlie was wearing pants while Ottilie was in a dress. She was also careful not to let the spoon she was using to stir her cream and sugar into her tea hit the side of the cup, a sound that had always gratted on Ottilies nerves.

Once her tea was stirred and it tasted to her satisfaction, she set the cup and saucer down to pick up the paper from the table between the two. “So, do you have any previous work history?”

“I used to work in the porn industry,” Ottilie said bluntly before take a sip of her drink. Charlie looked at her in surprise; no one ever guessed just by looking at her that she would be in adult films. “But I was demoted when I said no after they asked me to do something I was uncomfortable with. While working in the costume department, I met Angel Dust and he made me his personal assistant. I loved both jobs, but they let me go a month back because they said my designs were too old fashioned. I’ve been looking ever since, but haven’t had any luck finding another job.”

“Oh no! That’s such a shame!” Charlie said, genuinely sympathetic for her. “It’s good that you kept on looking, though! That shows perseverance and we certainly need a lot of that here!” She pulled out a pen and placed a check mark next to the question. “So how long have you and Angel Dust known each other?”

Ottilie thought for a moment, her fingers tapping together against her thumb repeatedly as she counted silently to herself. “Seventy years.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lasting friendship,” Charlie smiled. Ottilie offered a small smile in return, grateful for the memories she shared with him, be they good or bad. “How long have you been in Hell?”

Ottilies smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” Charlie looked up at her in confusion before realizing there must have been a math problem with the question. “Don’t worry. I can help you figure that out. Just tell me what year you died and we can subtract it from our current year.”

“I don’t know,” Ottilie said again, shaking her head slightly.

Charlie looked even more confused now. “Um…” She noticed how sad Ottilie looked and felt a pang of guilt. “Well, let’s just come back to that later. I’m sure we can figure that out. Do you know what kind of demon you are?” Ottilie shook her head. “Hm… You almost look like a succubus, but I don’t see a tail… Do you have a tail?” Ottilie nodded, looking a little less sad now. “Aha! Well there you go!” She scribbled something down on the paper and placed a check mark next to the question again. “Now I know this question may seem a little personal, but Vaggie said it was a must for the interview questions. What sin did you commit to end up in Hell?”

“I don’t know,” Ottilie repeated, feeling like a broken record. Charlie looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was playing some kind of weird joke on her. “I can’t remember anything about my past life. The only thing I do remember is how I died.”

Charlie felt her jaw drop as her chest clenched in sadness. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must be like. There were things about her own life that she wished she could forget, but the whole of it certainly wasn’t one of them. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ottilie picked up her cup and took a drink, fighting back the tears that were threatening to well in her eyes. It was hard to swallow around the lump in her throat, but the heat from the tea loosened it just enough that it wasn’t such a bother. “I’d like to remember what I was like before… but I’ve accepted the fact that I probably never will.”

Charlies lips were quivering and her eyes were large and wet from the tears she wasn’t even bothering to hold back. She sniffled loudly, her voice tight as she asked, “Okay, one last question: What size uniform do you wear?”

“A two. Why do you ask?” Ottilie wondered.

“Because I need to know so I can see if we have anything that will fit you before you start working,” Charlie explained as she pulled a tissue out of the box on the table and blew her nose.

Ottilies head flew up and her visible eye brightened. “You mean I got the job?”

“Hmhm,” Charlie nodded happily.

Ottilie couldn’t remember if or when she’d ever felt so much joy in her life. She was so excited that she almost dropped the cup in her hand, which was thankfully now empty, and a wide smile spread across her face. “Thank you so much.”

Charlie was surprised. Ottilie had seemed pretty enough before, but her smile was a whole other thing entirely. She smiled back, her head tilting to the side happily. “My pleasure!”

******

Charlie had been digging around in the supply closet for a good ten minutes when she finally realized how futile it was. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to find any more uniformed dresses in here. We’ll have to order some, I suppose.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Ottilie interjected from the doorway. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble for my sake. I can just make a dress of my own.”

“Isn’t that handy,” Charlie beamed. “Vaggie will be glad to hear that. She says our cleaning budget is high enough as it is.” She picked up a pair of black pants and a red colored smock. “Will this be alright in the meantime? I know pants are a bit of change compared to a dress, but it’s all we have right now.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Ottilie said as the items were handed to her.

“I imagine you’d like a day or two before you get started. When do you think you can come back in?” Charlie asked.

“I’d like to start immediately, if that’s alright,” Ottilie stated, catching Charlie off guard.

“Oh, wow. Now that’s dedication!” Charlie laughed. “That’s fine with me. I have a few things to see to around the hotel, but I’m sure Vaggie wouldn’t mind showing you what to do. You can change in here while I go and find her.”

Ottilie nodded and Charlie walked off down the hall, leaving her to put on her new uniform. After closing the door and slipping off her lavender colored dress, she threw the smock on over her body and stepped into the pants. Charlie had been right about them being a bit of a change. She hadn’t worn pants since leaving the film industry and that had been just before meeting Angel. They were comfortable enough, however, with an elastic band around the waist that both hugged her hips and gave her room to breath. Her boots looked a bit out of place in the modern clothing, but she’d have to settle for them until she could find something better. Once she was changed, she draped her dress and coat on a hanger before stepping out of the room to wait for Vaggie.

It wasn’t long before someone approached her, but it wasn’t who she was waiting for.

“There you are!” Angel said in an almost annoyed tone. “I leave for one minute and you go running off on me again! I thought you’d skipped out on me like last time.”

“You left me an hour ago,” Ottilie pointed out as he came to stand in front of her.

“Oh. Well I uh-,” he stammered before noticing her attire. He’d never actually seen her in anything other than a dress and was just now realizing how small she really was compared to him. “What the Hell are you wearing?”

“My new uniform,” she explained.

“Wait, what? So you got the job?” Angel asked hopefully. Ottilie nodded. “Nine to five alive! That’s amazing!” He picked her up excitedly and spun her in a circle, leaving her dizzy as he set her back down on the floor. “Geez, you work fast, though. I didn’t even get a chance to tell you about it and then you go off and get hired on your own.”

“You had multiple chances to tell me, but you refused to do so each time,” Ottilie stated as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Why can’t you ever let me have my dramatic moment?” Angel gripped.

“Every moment with you is dramatic,” Ottilie said with a deadpan expression.

Angel laughed sarcastically. “Oh, yeah. You think you’re so funny. Well you won’t be laughin’ when I tie up all the bed sheets and turn them into a web and you’re the one stuck gettin’ ‘em down.”

“Good luck doing that when I talk Charlie and Vaggie into using an off brand laundry detergent,” she warned, raising a brow at him slightly.

He gasped at the threat. “You know I have sensitive skin! How could you say that?”

“Don’t test me, spider boy. I’ll beat you every time,” she smiled almost cheekily.

“Why you little-!” he started to say jokingly as he reached all of his hands out toward her like he was going to grab her.

“Hey! Quit messing with the new employee!” Vaggie shouted as she and Charlie came down the hall. “You and those other troublemakers caused enough damage earlier.”

Angel clicked his tongue in irritation as he crossed one set of arms and placed the others on his hips. “That wasn’t even my fault. What happened back there, anyway?”

Vaggie rolled her eyes at the memory. “Something about Radiohead putting a cucumber down on the counter while Husk had he back turned and scaring the crap out of him.” Angel looked almost on the verge of tears as he fought the urge to laugh. “Ugh. Just get out of here, you overgrown butt plug!”

“Eh. I’ve been called worse,” Angel shrugged, smiling when Vaggie glared up at him.

“We do have to go, though, Angel Dust,” Charlie came between them, trying to keep things from escalating to a fight. “You have a yoga session scheduled with me.”

“Oh! Do I have to?” Angel asked as he reluctantly followed behind her. “That shit if for granola crunching hippies.”

“I thought you liked doing yoga with me?” Charlie pointed out.

“I only like it when you can’t do the poses and I can,” Angel explained.

Vaggie sighed once they were gone and turned to Ottilie. “Sorry about that. He just really knows how to push my buttons.”

“Trust me. I know that just about as well as anyone,” Ottilie said, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“I’m glad someone finally does,” Vaggie smiled back. She began to lead her down the hall toward the North end of the building. “So Charlie told me the interview went well, which I’m happy about, but I’m not going to sugar coat this like I know she did. This job gets hard and it gets messy. A lot.”

“I can handle messy,” Ottilie assured her.

“Oh really?” Vaggie asked as they were passing a room and she looked inside. Ottilie did as well only to find it in complete disarray; the furniture was completely toppled over, stuffing from the cushions appeared to have been ripped out, and there were somehow claw marks on the ceiling as well as the walls. “Good to know.” She continued on while Ottilie got over her shock and hurried to catch up with her. “So most of the work is fairly easy. Once a week or so we’ll have you dust the furniture in the sitting rooms, which does take most of the day, so you won’t be worrying about anything else on those days. On the other days you’ll be vacuuming out the halls, cleaning rooms, and taking out the trash. Just about everyone here keeps their room clean for the most part, but I will warn you that Angel Dust is the worst about picking up after himself. He thinks that just because he’s staying in a hotel, everything has to be done for him despite the numerous times I’ve told him he has to be self reliant.”

“Trust me. Angel Dust doesn’t think that just because he’s in a hotel,” Ottilie shook her head. “I used to clean his dressing room at the end of the day.”

Vaggie looked up at her in awe. “You are a brave woman.” They came to a set of stairs and started climbing up them. “Most of the residents are staying on different floors, so you’ll have a cart you can bring around with you that’s loaded with supplies. Nifty and Mimzy are the only other two except for Charlie and I who sleep on the same floor. Those two are nearly inseparable, as you’ll come to find out. Charlie and I are in the penthouse, but we do clean up after ourselves for the most part, so all you’ll really be doing when you get up there is empty a trash can here or make the bed there. Once every other week you’ll change the sheets unless the guest tells you otherwise and be sure to give them fresh towels and such every day. There aren’t many guests in the hotel at present so your days shouldn’t be too long unless we get more in the future. I’ll give you a chart to keep with you of who is in what room until you can remember it for yourself. A few of the guests might ask you for certain specifications, but you do have the right to say no if it’s more than you can handle. Sometimes they’ll put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door if they want some privacy, so you won’t have to worry about it for the day.” They climbed all the way up to the sixth floor and came out into the hall, stopping only when they reached a door that had a bright red ‘x’ painted over the otherwise brown colored wood. “Room 666 is special case. It’ll be your choice whether or not you go in there.”

“Why is that?” Ottilie asked.

“Let’s just say the shitlord that stays in there isn’t someone you want to be around. Like ever,” Vaggie said vaguely. “You do have the choice to go in there or not, but we’re not responsible for anything that may or may not happen in there. I’ll also say this: Charlie went in there once to clean his room when one of the previous maids refused to after he asked for service. She took one look in there and ran away screaming. We found her later about to wash her eyes out with bleach.”

“Why not just put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ on his door, then?” Ottilie questioned.

“We did. Several times. He kept taking them off and switching his name on the charts so the maids would think he was somewhere else or they would simply forget which was his. Hence why we have the ‘x’ now,” Vaggie pointed at the door. “Look, you seem like a nice girl, so I recommend you don’t take the chance and go in there, okay?” Ottilie glanced at the door and then back to her before nodding. They resumed walking down the hall and went up to the seventh floor. “Good. You have a smart head on your shoulders-um…” She paused and they stopped again. “I’m sorry. Charlie never told me your name.”

“She never asked for it,” Ottilie explained.

Vaggie gave her a blank expression before her hand slammed into her forehead. “I love that girl but she can be such an airhead sometimes.” She brought her hand down as she shook her head. “So what is your name, then?”

“Ottilie,” she replied.

“Huh. Never heard a name like that. It’s pretty,” Vaggie thought allowed, unaware of the other womans blush. “The rooms have actually already been cleaned for the day, so all you’ll have to do is the laundry. The washing machines are fairly simple. They work like most others. The settings aren’t usually messed with so all you’ll have to do is press start. Unfortunately, though, we can’t use the chutes right now because something is clogging both of them up.” She noticed Ottilies questioning expression. “The maids before were never careful with the sheets, so we’re pretty sure that’s what’s in there. We’re trying to get around to unclogging it, but one thing after another happens and we haven’t been able to yet. Until then, we’ll have to ask that you carry the laundry down by hand.” She stopped in front of a pile of sheets near the staircase and turned towards Ottilie. “We’ve all more or less been pitching in until we could hire someone else, so the sheets should be somewhere near the staircase doors. Sometimes they get lazy, though, and just throw them outside of their rooms, so if they aren’t there you’ll have to walk down the hall and retrieve them.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her side against the wall beside her. “So, are you still up for working here?” She had her answer when Ottilie simply picked up the sheets and began walking down the stairs.

******

Ottilie had never been against physical labor, but even she had to admit that carrying bundles of sheets down the stairs only to have to go back up to retrieve the next set was a waste of energy. The fact that there were a total of eight floors, including the penthouse but not the basement, which was where the laundry room was, didn’t help either. One of the floors didn’t have sheets on it at all, her having walked all the way down it to make sure they weren’t by a room, so she assumed it was otherwise unoccupied. Going back to the sixth floor made her nervous, but thankfully the sheets were already by the stairs and she didn’t have to go anywhere near the red ‘x’ door.

On the third floor, however, the sheets were not by the stairs. Her legs were already starting to hurt from all the walking and her shoes weren’t helping matters, but she let out a deep sigh and pressed on, knowing things would go a lot more smoothly if she got it over with. Unlike the other floors, this one had a bend in the hall, so there was an adjoining hall around the corner, meaning she couldn’t just look down it from the doorway to check for them by the rooms. She stepped around the bend and saw them sitting outside two rooms right across from each other. More than likely belonging to whoever Nifty and Mimzy were, she ignored the urge to curse at them and instead walked over to pick up the sheets.

As she was picking up the linen, she swore she heard the creak of the staircase door open and close, but nothing else after it. She looked up the hall, expecting to see either Vaggie or Charlie come around it, but neither they nor anyone else did.

“H-Hello?” she called softly, knowing no would be able to hear her but trying anyway.

When no one answered, she became bit freaked out by the seemingly disembodied noise and the dim lighting on the floor and tried to hurry along with her task.

While all the other floors only had one bundle, she found that two were a hassle. Not wanting to have to come back for the second, she tried to carry both at the same time. This proved to be a mistake as, not only were they heavy, but they impaired her vision and left her unable to see overtop of them. She had to watch the wall beside her to see where she was going and had just made it back around the bend when she ran right into something solid.

Having not expected this, it caused her to fall back and land flat on the floor, the weight in her arms leaving her unable to catch herself. The sheets fell all around her and covered her face as her arms released them to try and break her fall, but all it did was pin them underneath the linen she was also trapped beneath as they fell out from under her.

She laid there on the ground in a daze for a few seconds before she heard a deep and masculine chuckle. It reminded her of the one she’d heard earlier with the way it sounded like it was coming through an old microphone, but it sounded a bit more malicious than the time before. Wondering if it was the same person, she tried removing the sheets from her face with the intent to apologize for running into them and find out who this chuckle belonged to, but she found herself tangled up in them with no hope of finding the edge, some of the corners having slipped under her in the fall. She heard another chuckle before whoever was in front apparently took a knee on the floor and started to help untangle her. She was eventually able to sit up before the last few sheets were removed from her head.

A bit blinded by the light after having been stuck in the darkness, she shook her head a bit and blinked a few times before she was able to focus and she found her gaze locked with a pair of completely crimson red eyes.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

#hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie #nifty #mimzy #angel dust #vaggie #baxter #husk #ottilie #love and what we do in its name #chapter 3 #hopeful

[maliwarm]

Early Winter

A monster drabble and huge thanks to @shellalana for donating to my Ko-Fi! ♡ 

A cacophony of sound floated through the streets of the Detritus Ring; streets once drab, but now lined with bright lanterns and strings of lights of all colours, giving them an abundance of vibrancy and colour. Yet more colour flowed through the streets like trickles from a river in the form of dancers clad in exotic finery. They glided through the crowd, movements a mixture of elegance and the typical raunchiness many associated with the Ring’s denizens; clothes flowing where they weren’t form fitting, and jewellery jangling with every gesture. Chatter from many mouths and upbeat, drum-heavy, music blended into a singular murmuring din. It was loud, but the exciting, infectious sort of loudness that one couldn’t help but be swept up in. A myriad of scents swept from the marketplace, carried by the wind. Meats and spices of all varieties, sweetness and floral fragrances, gunpowder and animal musk. The people living here celebrated loud and proud, temporarily stripping away their constant worries regarding the fate of the universe to simply have fun and revel in the fact that they were still here, still alive.

Three figures observed the festivities from a distant rooftop, the din and brightness dulled to far more bearable levels from their position. The elder pair stood tall and solemn, each with a rapier by their side. The hilt of that belonging to the woman in blue was carved into an ornate butterfly, matching the tattoo above her hip. The hilt of the woman in red’s sported a more simple, but no less elegant, design of twin curled protrusions akin to a bumblebee’s antennae. Accompanying them sat a young girl on the very edge of the roof, contentedly sucking on the lollipop lodged in her mouth, kicking her legs to and fro above the yawning void between her and the ground without a care in the world. She harboured a passing curiosity for the bustle below, having never seen such a lively place before. Compared to the base, this looked, heard, and smelled much nicer. 

“Everything looks so small from here,” she exclaimed, beaming around her treat. “The people look like little ants! Don’t you think, Foxy? Diana?”

“Focus,” Foxy - the woman in red - said, voice soft but tone firm. She obeyed, wide eyes swivelling away from the marketplace and onto the pair to give them her undivided attention. She received a brief smile and praise before Foxy’s expression and tone both became sober again. “Good girl. You have two targets tonight.”

“Two?”

The other woman who could only be Diana nodded, taking the reigns of the briefing. Her open skirt swished quietly as she turned to address the girl, arms folding across her chest.

 “Both of them are massive thorns in our organisation’s side, severely disrupting our plans to bring a new order to what remains of the universe. The first is Reyna Valeria, otherwise known as the Valkyrie. While her efforts to make this lawless cesspit a more liveable space are admirable and have borne some fruit, the people within - herself included - are dangerous. If left unchecked, the combined might of those living on the surrounding asteroids may rally under her call and very well make an attempt to kill everyone in our organisation.” 

As of right now, the Valkyrie had only managed to hit a few of their more minor bases. But it was still too much damage for their liking. Even without accounting for her ability to gather a sizeable army, she knew far too much and needed to be silenced. NESTS wasn’t ready to be dragged completely into the light just yet. When they were, it would be on their own terms, not on the whim of some nosy pirate.

“The second is the traitor, K’.” The girl’s obliviously happy sucking of the candy in her mouth ceased, her magenta gaze sharpening. That name was one she knew almost as well as her own. Any lingering interest in the marketplace was now lost entirely. All of her focus was trained solely on Diana and her words. “The one you were created to nullify.” 

Foxy nodded. “That’s right, We’ve finally tracked him down. And as luck would have it, he and the Valkyrie have been sighted together numerous times. In fact, we’re led to believe that they’re working together closely.”

“Which brings us to the reason we’re here in the first place. Look over there.” The girl’s eyes followed the direction of a blue gloved finger, eventually homing in on a rather unique pair, even amongst the odd characters that comprised the Ring’s denizens. There was a short woman with a spike-studded jacket and bright red crest of hair that reminded her of a chicken, carrying herself with an air of complete confidence. And there was a boy by her side; much taller, and wrapped in all black leather, with hair the colour of snow. He tilted his head, responding to something the woman said, lips ticked up into a lopsided smirk as his shoulder was given a playful slap. His was a visage she recognised. It was one that stirred the beginnings of anger. Hate. “Can you see them?”

She nodded once, eyes still trained on the pair, drinking in every gesture and movement of their lips.

“Good. Your orders are simple: kill them both.”

The lollipop crunched audibly. 

The girl stood, dragging the now bare plastic stick between her teeth. It slipped from loose fingers and tumbled over the edge of the roof, quickly lost to darkness. A puff of frigid air rolled off of her slender body, hair gusting outwards with it. Blue swept through it in a wave, erasing and replacing all traces of the natural strawberry blonde. 

“Understood,” the Anti-K intoned, voice and eyes now emotionless.

-

“Hey,” Reyna whispered, nudging K’ in the ribs. A massive grin was slowly stretching across her face. “The boy at the art booth’s eyeballing you.”

He paused, the greasy, bacon covered, meat on a stick he’d been gnawing on hovering near his lips for another bite, to frown back at her. “What? He looking to fight or something?”

She noticed his shoulders squaring. His jaw clench. Uh oh. 

The necklace she’d been admiring was dropped back into the stall owner’s waiting hands. With her own now free, a hasty palm snagged K’ by the arm before he could move, a disbelieving little laugh escaping her. Jesus, her son was either way too dense or just itching for a fistfight. Probably both. She should have grown used to it by now, but it was honestly unbelievable how stunted he was in terms of human interaction in general, let alone romance. She and Maxi would have to sit him down and educate him properly sometime; finally acclimate him towards living and acting like a normal freaking teenager instead of continually indulging in this prickly recluse nonsense. 

“No, musclehead! He’s looking at you like a lovesick puppy.”

A silver brow arched. K’ twisted his head, eyes sweeping the booths until he found the one in question. Amongst the haphazardly placed array of sketches and paintings decorating the booth proper was a pair of warm brown eyes framed between a shock of messy hair barely kept back by a sweatband. There was a large sketch pad held up to the other boy’s nose, one arm moving with hasty pencil strokes. When he glanced up, realising K’ had caught on to the fact he’d been staring, he visibly jolted. He stopped sketching to pull the pad up higher, shielding his face. It didn’t hide how red his ears were. K’ blinked. Huh.

Shaking to his shoulder pulled his attention towards Reyna once more. That grin was back in place. “He’s cute. Why don’t you try talking to him?”

“Mmn,” was the halfhearted mumble of a response as he went back to tearing through the last of his skewer, seemingly disinterested in the prospect. She was right, that guy was kind of cute... but it would be too weird to try hitting it off when he knew his damned mother would be watching, drinking up every moment. Plus, he was still awful at flirting; he’d botch things for sure.

She must have sensed his train of thought. Or at least the first part. The hand around his arm slackened, falling back to rest on her hip. Brows were raised in question. “I could leave you on your own for a while if you want?”

K’ shook his head, walking in the opposite direction of the art booth. Reyna fell into step after a couple of beats, sighing her disappointment. She glanced over her shoulder at the boy at the art booth. He’d lowered the sketch pad shield to reveal his distraught. She offered him a pitying look and a helpless little hand gesture before turning back to focus on what was in front of her. 

“Maybe later. I wanna look around some more first.”

Her lip twisted wryly. “You mean find that jerky booth Pendles mentioned?” 

“... Maybe.”

“Figures.” Orange eyes rolled towards the heavens. This boy and his stomach...

“Whatever.” He gave her an eye roll of his own, licking his now meatless skewer clean. It then found a home in a nearby trashcan with one of those trademark lazy wrist flicks he usually employed when throwing his shades at people. His tongue went to work at his fingers next, lapping up whatever grease had dripped onto them. “Why are you so insistent on playing matchmaker all of a sudden anyway? Biological clock screaming for you to get grandkids already or something?” 

He sniggered when her fist found his shoulder, smirking down at her. She actually looked somewhat miffed by his words. It felt nice to be the one doing the playful needling to get a rise rather than the one on the receiving end for a change.

“Hilarious. But no. Figured it might do you some good to talk to someone not living on the Favour for a change; maybe even make some friends that aren’t a walking tank twenty years your senior.”

“Closer to ten, actually,” K’ corrected, swiping his grubby fingers on his chaps. From the corner of his eye he could see her jaw unhinge with disbelief, mouthing what the fuck. The corner of his lips twitched upwards. The big guy sitting right on the cusp of being thirty must not have been a topic these two discussed during all their gossiping. “He’s not actually as old as he looks and acts; ask him when we get back if you don’t believe me.”

Reyna shook off her astonishment, brows furrowing further. She made a mental note to interrogate Maxima sometime; unravel some of the secrets of this enigma of a man who said much but gave away little. “Ten years then. Whatever. Point is, you really need to get out and talk to more people your age.” 

That garnered an abrupt mood change. His nostrils flared with a loud sigh. 

“That’s a nice sentiment and all, mom, but what would I even talk about? I don’t know shit about whatever’s popular, or trendy, or whatever; I can’t connect with them on that level. I could talk about how to kill someone with just your fists, but that’s more liable to scare them off.” K’ scoffed, turning his head to the side to spit disdainfully after his mini tirade, temper flaring as it usually did whenever he brushed upon the subject of his years in NESTS’ clutches. “Just forget it. I’m not normal, I can’t-“ 

A sudden sense of danger made his flames rankle beneath his skin. His head jolted up in time to witness something glistening slicing through the air straight towards them.

Acting on pure instinct, his gauntleted hand snapped out, snagging the projectile midair with some slight aid from translocation’s syrupy blanket settling over him. His grip shuddered at the moment of impact; a testament to the strength and speed behind whoever had thrown it. Unease stirred at the sight of an icicle - long and wickedly pointed - clenched between his red plated fingers, stopped mere inches from spearing through the lens of Reyna’s eyepatch. 

It didn’t snow on this chunk. 

Reyna went cross-eyed looking at that pointed tip until K’ crushed the icicle to fragments with a harsh squeeze. A shiver ran through her body, unbidden, at the near death experience. If he had been a fraction of a second too slow, she would’ve had a sizeable hole in her eye and brain right now...

“Th’ fuck was...” she trailed off, eye sliding to peer at something - someone - approaching beyond K’s shoulder. His own eyes followed suit.

Both of them could see a lone girl, young and beautiful in a doll like way, brushing past the now panicking festival goers. There was something downright ethereal about her appearance. Slender, with skin that was alabaster pale. Eyes wide and magenta, childlike, yet distinctly lacking emotion. And her hair... It was a soft, light blue and seemed to be moving of its own volition, fanning out then settling across her back at regular intervals. Tiny diamonds with no known source glittered around her body at random, winking in and out of existence. 

No, not diamonds, Reyna realised. Ice crystals.

There was no time to puzzle over the phenomena, nor the girl herself, when she slammed a platformed heel against the ground. In the same instant, that strange blue hair snapped out like peacock feathers. A sudden gust of sheer cold air swept through the marketplace, forcing mother and son to shield their faces from the gale or else become blinded. Ice bloomed in the wake of it, swallowing everything in a crystalline coat. Buildings, stalls, people... it didn’t discriminate, encasing everything it touched. The only ones spared such a fate were the two of them and the girl. Slowly, they both lowered their arms, taking in the sudden winterised landscape, peppered with people-shaped sculptures.

“Jilted girlfriend?” Reyna quipped, already sliding her pistol from its holster.

K’ shook his head, straightening into his fighting stance. “Never seen her before in my life.” Her appearance did make him frown, however. Dismissing the colours, the girl’s choice in clothing seemed somewhat similar to his own. That struck him as odd. It also fed a little more into his general unease, though he couldn’t place why he was feeling as such. “But with powers like that, I don’t doubt she’s one of NESTS’ lackeys.”

“Heh. I was wondering when they’d finally take the fight to us.” Reyna’s grin was all teeth. The pistol was loud in the suddenly dead quiet space when she primed it, aiming it at the girl. Finally it seemed like her efforts in rooting the bastards out were paying off. If she kept it up maybe the head of it all would finally reveal themselves and she could cut it off; finally give her son some piece of mind and the chance to move on with his life. Her voice raised and hardened to address their new foe. “Your organisation picked the wrong person to fuck with, kiddo. I don’t take kindly to anyone who thinks it’s fun to mess with my home or my people.”

Her words weren’t acknowledged. Instead, the girl took several long, quick strides forward. Her gait gradually evolved with every step, becoming longer and smoother until a gentle shushing noise reached the pair’s ears. Skating, they realised, now noticing the blades that had appeared beneath her boots, helping her to glide along the frozen ground, straight for them. It seemed she was intent on a fight. 

K’ clicked his tongue, taking three long strides of his own forward. Pitting ice against fire was stupid; the winner here was pretty clear cut in his eyes. Had NESTS lost the plot, or was there more to this girl than met the eye? Never mind that; there would be time to puzzle it later. For the meantime, his right fist rose in a sharp upwards motion, brilliant burning scarlet bursting to life around it in a thick coat. Briefly, the flames hung in the air when he removed his hand, packed together densely, before a spinning kick sent them careening towards the girl like some dangerous sort of football. 

In an unprecedented turn of events, rather than dodge, her skates left the icy ground in a jump. Arms raised, she twirled with all the grace of a professional figure skater, long hair swirling. The blades at her feet sliced K’s flames to harmless ribbons. She landed perfectly, matching his shocked expression with that same blank one she’d sported since her appearance. Not a single hair on her head was singed. 

One leg snapped up high in a kick of her own as she allowed her own momentum to continue pushing her forward. A jagged hunk of ice bloomed at the apex of the kick and was sent hurtling towards K’. Swearing, he threw up his right arm protectively, bidding more flames into existence. They adopted the form of a messy sort of shield. Most of the ice melted upon contact with it. His cheek, however, was sheared by one of the outermost spiky protrusions before it, too, melted into water and steam. 

Unnoticed until now, Reyna had crept towards the side of the clashing kids, waiting for the best opportunity to strike. While the girl was rebalancing after that kick was as good an opening as any, she figured; it’d be stupid not to seize it. Gunfire rang out, the pistol’s familiar thrumming jolting her arm straight to the bone with each successive shot. Powers or no, this kid was sure to bleed like any other when hit by a bullet - K’ had unintentionally proven that to her on a few past missions gone awry. And the faster they took her down, the faster they could interrogate her about the people she worked for. With that in mind, most of her shots were aimed at her limbs and mostly non-vital spots around the torso.

The girl hadn’t fully set her other foot back on the ground again when she raised a palm in Reyna’s direction the moment she heard the gunfire. A thin, translucent pane of ice materialised moments before the bullets’ impact. Every single one hit it with a dull click and fell, ends flattened notably, then bounced across the ground, useless. She let the shield dissipate to twinkling powder, putting on a fresh burst of speed to avoid the continuing onslaught of bullets, still making a direct beeline towards K’. He stopped thumbing at the gash on his cheek and widened his stance, arms up, intent on meeting her head on. Except she turned sharply at the last possible second, skates screeching and flinging shredded ice into his eyes. While she left him in the dust cursing and clearing his vision, she kept her new target firmly within her sights. The bullets were slalomed past, or another of those thin ice shields created to take the blow when she miscalculated where one was being fired next. 

There wasn’t a spare moment for Reyna to reload her now empty clip. The girl cruised by her harmlessly after she dived to the side to avoid an icy dagger to the chest. One of the frozen festival goers was on the receiving end instead, audibly shattering into bloody shards upon impact of the weapon. Reyna grit her teeth. The first unnecessary casualty... She rolled upon landing with a grunt but couldn’t get up, instead slipping and sliding uncontrollably along the ice until her back hit one of the stalls. 

She’d barely found her feet and was planning on reloading when the girl was in the midst of skating over for round two. Reyna sucked in a harsh breath, leaning backwards to avoid a high upwards kick that went above the girl’s head - flexible little shit; just like her son - and was tipped with those wicked looking skates. The blades were as clear blue as the surroundings and sharp as all hell. One of the collar flaps of her jacket split cleanly in the wake of their path, the rent in the leather a sizeable one. That leg came down again like a slender axe and Reyna was only barely successful at dodging it, too. She was all too aware of her uncertain footing; that one misstep would mean her doom. Evidently, so was the girl, as her assault didn’t stop for even a moment. A hand stretched for Reyna’s face, clad in a yellow copy of K’s own gauntlet, but far less scuffed. Biting cold billowed out from the palm, the magnifier within her eyepatch picking up tiny snowflakes forming within it. She didn’t have enough room or time to dodge this attack

“Shi-!“ Something dark blurred by, snarling, and the girl yelped, high and shrill; the first noise she’d uttered since this encounter. Reyna only barely caught sight of black leather smearing by before the girl was violently hurtled to the side.

She and K’ tumbled gracelessly, shoulders and hips smacking the ice hard enough to bruise as they struggled against one another. Their hands grappled at each other, squeezing hard when they connected and clawing wildly at faces when they didn’t. Using his weight to his advantage, K’ kept her firmly pinned beneath him. Though she struggled valiantly, she couldn’t gain an inch of freedom. Her movements became increasingly more panicked when he started shoving their connected hands closer towards her face, his flaring to life with flame. In another first, there was now emotion in the girl’s eyes, the dancing tongues of his powers reflected in their magenta depths: fear. She inhaled sharply. Then exhaled a cloud of frigid air directly into his face. K’ yelled out in surprise, flames sputtering. He released her hand to palm blindly at his face. His eyelashes felt frosted shut; he couldn’t fight like this! 

Capitalising on his weakness, the girl grabbed him by the shoulders and in a surprising show of strength, managed to flip him over so now he was the one pinned. Her knees squeezed against his ribs to keep herself in place. Crackling filled the air as a fresh icicle formed in her hands, as wickedly long and sharp as the one she’d thrown to announce her presence. She raised it above her head, eyes locked onto her target: the open front of his jacket.

Hands of flesh and steel clapped just above the tip. K’ grunted, squinting through barely open eyes and straining to keep the construct from closing those final few inches to pierce his chest. The girl strained back, shoving down harder. There was a determined knit between her blue brows. The tip wavered between them, but ultimately kept inching downwards. It prodded his pectoral. A tiny bead of red swelled up to kiss it. His heart hammered wildly beneath his breastbone, blue eyes widening at this turn of events. Unprecedented as it was, he was losing this battle of strength. 

Desperate, K’ clamped down harder and shoved the icicle sideways. Caught off guard, the girl’s grip around it fumbled. As did her knees at his ribs. K’ bucked until she was dislodged, squeaking in pain at the collision of her chin against the hard ground. He planted a boot against her side to shove her fully off, rolling onto his stomach to try and crawl back onto his feet. He could see Reyna aiming an evidently reloaded pistol and increased his efforts to rise so he could be out of the way, giving her a clear shot. He’d managed to tentatively find his knees when a hand snagged him by the belt. His teeth clicked together painfully as he was yanked back down, grunting and sprawling flat on his stomach across the icy ground. He looked over his shoulder in time to see an icy dagger sink into his ribs from the side.

At first there was just the sharp pain from the initial moment of impact. But then she shoved the weapon in deeper, until her fist touched his jacketed side. That was when the coldness began to invade his body, sudden and biting, as she used the ice dagger as a conduit to channel her powers directly into his bloodstream. He couldn’t even fight back, too startled and too overwhelmed by just how freezing it was to gather his own powers to counter hers. All he could manage was a few thin gasps and wounded noises as his vision darkened and body slackened. A full body shiver swept through him. He didn’t like it. So cold. Too cold. Like being shot with several dozen overdoses worth of the suppressant in his gauntlet. The blood seeping through his jacket exacerbated it; less frigid, but still a source of cold. Still bad. Had to move. Had to get away. 

A gargantuan effort was expended trying to drag himself forward, hoping to get close enough for his mother to assist him. But he couldn’t get a decent grasp on the smooth ground, and the girl still latched onto him was extra weight dragging him down, so he ultimately went nowhere. Gauntleted fingers twitched weakly. Things were slowing - thoughts, breaths, heartbeat - and the surrounds were darkening. A gunshot sounded, duller then it should have been, followed by the harsh ping of metal hitting metal. The girl yelped and the hand at his side left. Her weight keeping him pinned followed suit as more bullets tracked her. No more ice slithered into his body, but the damage was done. He tried to focus on that bobbing crest of red growing larger with Reyna’s hasty approach. But in the end he gave in to the dark and the cold, eyes flickering shut as she slid towards him on her knees.

The girl skipped across the ice to avoid Reyna’s bullets, somewhat less graceful than before. Clearly, she’d been caught off guard, but she spared no gloating thoughts for that detail, and only stopped firing when Little Miss Frost was a decent distance away. Teeth found one of the fingers of her glove, yanking it off with one swift motion. Her hand shook as pressed her fingers against K’s neck, eyes straying from the girl - dangerous as that was - to gauge his condition. His pallor was off, pale with hints of blue at the lips. The usual elevated temperature of his skin was completely absent, more akin to a cooling campfire than the living heater she’d come to know over this past year. She couldn’t feel anything but that cold radiating off him. Already it was starting to numb her own fingers, making her question if there had been a faint flutter of a heartbeat just now or if it was a mere product of wishful thinking. Teeth found her lip, biting down just shy of being hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. 

“Come on, starburst...” she hissed, words wavering. “Don’t do this to me.”

Blue in her peripheral grabbed her attention in an instant; jolting the gun up, eyes moving for a clearer view. She fired. Frozen shards and diamond dust exploded in the air a few feet away. Already, more was gathering in the girl’s hands. Reyna grit her teeth, removing her hand from K’s neck and pushing to her feet. Damn this fucking kid... damn the people she worked for! She tugged her glove back on then palmed blindly at her communicator, already on the move. Her current location flashed on-screen, the coordinates pinged to her Rogues with no other message. They’d all come running to her aid in a heartbeat, it was simply a matter of fending off the ice doll long enough for the arrival of whoever was closest at hand. Whoever it was, she hoped they were fast; there might still be enough time to save her son. 

Using that thought as fuel to keep her going, Reyna widened her steps, pushing them outwards and allowing her boots to slide along the ice rather than go against it, in such a manner it mimicked roller skating. It was awkward initially and probably made her look a right fool, but using this bastardised skating method, she was able to move along the ice with considerable more ease and speed than before. She was already bearing down on Miss Frosty, her scowl letting the brat know that any scrap of kiddie gloves she’d been wearing up until now were well and truly off. She meant business. Small and broken as it was nobody - nobody - was allowed to mess with her family again!

That same blank stare matched her glare. Yellow-clad hands slammed against the ground. A few feet away, a jagged lance burst from the icy ground. More followed in a line, erupting upwards in much the same manner. Reyna dropped low, a gloved palm smacking the ground to help make a hasty turning manoeuvre to avoid them. Frigid air kissed her cheek in passing. Sharp tips bloomed to life from the corner of her eye, growing to stretch for her face, but falling short as she slid off to the side and out of reach. The pillars didn’t track her progress, instead marching on in a straight path. 

She wobbled back to her feet, leaning in with her momentum and to the side to speed back up again and go for a wide, gradual turn. Once the brat was back in line with her sights, she resumed her improvised skating gait. The next time those gauntleted hands rose, the pistol did too. A bullet pinged off the planting of the glove harmlessly, but it made the girl flinch all the same, the concentration for whatever attack she’d been planning broken. She actually began to retreat when Reyna’s assault didn’t stop, more bullets ringing against the metal protecting her hands. The plan was to hit something vital in those gauntlets and see if her powers went haywire like K’s did without that (assumed) suppression method in pristine working order. But it was difficult when the more vulnerable parts of it - the black, ribbed underglove peeking through all the yellow segments to allow joint movement - were so small. And moving targets to boot.

The second empty clip of this encounter was ejected. She didn’t have many left on her person, having not expected what was supposed to be a peaceful night turn out this terribly. Her expectation of things going awry during this festival was a gang war or something similar; a cryokinetic had never factored into the equation. She was overwhelmingly ill equipped to deal with this situation, especially with her son - her best bet at keeping the playing ground even - reduced to a bleeding, maybe even dead, popsicle.

Rather than reload, Reyna reeled her hand back during the final stretch of her approach. She lashed out, pistol whipping, the moment she was within arms’ reach of the ice doll. Swears tumbled from her mouth, grip on the gun almost lost, when it jarred against one of those protective thin panes rather than that pretty skull. For something so flimsy looking it was durable as all hell. She slid on by, rubbing the soreness from her arm. When no retaliatory attack occurred, she twisted awkwardly and was met by the sight of the girl’s retreating back. Brows furrowed. Why would she leave now? Even with her gun, they both knew Reyna’s chances of prevailing in this battle were slim to none; she was the slower, weaker one in this tussle, it made no sense to...

K’ was still laying prone in the middle of the plaza.

Sure enough, he seemed to be her target, every glided stride towards him long and full of purpose. Was he the true target of this assault then?

“Sonnova...!” Out of habitual reflex Reyna raised her left arm, going to fire off a protective shield of purple to cover him. 

Except nothing happened. She hadn’t brought her shield booster along, figuring the pistol and her walking blowtorch son would be enough protection. Stupid! Frantic hands fumbled around her jacket for another clip. Only two left... And her Rogues were still no shows. Shit.

After a few jittery attempts that failed miserably, the gun was reloaded. She spun in place and lined it up, using the tech in her eyepatch to focus on her target. Inhale. Focus. Aim steady...

The girl fell flat on her face, crying out. One of her skates burst into twinkling shards, leaving a useless, jagged protrusion sticking out from the sole of her boot. She hadn’t expected it to actually be made of ice too... but the end result was still good, regardless; she’d fallen short of K’, tumbling gracelessly, and was turning back in her direction, rubbing her nose. A thin trickle of red oozed a slow path to her upper lip.

“That’s right,” Reyna growled. “Eyes on me, you damn squirt. Gotta finish your dinner before you get dessert; you ain’t done with me yet by half.”

Irritation drew the ice doll’s brows down. Her cheeks puffed. The useless skate crumbled to twinkling powder and a fresh one took its place, ice slipping through a previously unseen slit in the bottom of the boot and taking shape, equally as sharp as its predecessor. She took a moment to swipe away the tears that had gathered at her eyes as a result of her fall, and smear the bloody nose onto her sleeve, pushing back into a stand. Reyna readied herself as the gentle shushing of skates filled the air once again. In her pocket, the comm device continued its intermittent flashing. She turned, intent on leading the ice doll further away. Orange eyes darted about the frigid surrounds. The only people shapes she could pick out were sculptures frozen mid movement; all blue, without a trace of steel or orange to be found. Time... she needed to buy more of it.

-

Awareness bled in slowly for K’. With it came the cold, making him shiver and moan. Pins and needles popped beneath his skin, flames sluggish, but not snuffed. A bloom of heat was amassing in his core, gradually melting away the lingering ice in his system and bringing an iota more strength with every second that passed. It felt like he was full of lead, every breath shallow and laboured. His left pinkie twitched. Feeling was returning, though the numbness persisted around his chest and one cheek. 

Bad. Don’t like that. 

Greedily, he clung to the spreading heat - that felt nicer; good.... better... - relishing in it even as he continued to be wracked by shivers. He drifted in and out to the sounds of gunfire and some strange cracking that made his hackles raise, even while in this semi-conscious state. The cold lingered, but it didn’t seem as biting with every new stirring of awareness. With its retreat, more feeling returned, and with sensation came pain; various dull aches and one particularly sharp, insistent spot on his torso that throbbed steadily. Silver brows furrowed, mouth twisting into a grimace. It was annoying, making it harder to indulge in the comforting darkness creeping back in.

A scream made him grapple harder for consciousness rather than fight it. It was a voice he knew but couldn’t place right this second, thoughts still too hazy in regards to anything that wasn’t pain or cold. 

With a monumental effort, he eventually managed to force his eyes open. Clear blue. Red. Fuzzy. Swimming in and out of focus. The red moved when he forced his fingers to curl. Darken... Blink, sharpen. Steam drifted from his lips in time with every breath. His eyes, half lidded, rolled up. More blue. More shapes. People? Blink, sharpen. Red on the blue, faraway streaks and dribbles in nonsensical patterns. More blue, brighter and opaque, chasing brown with a tiny beacon of red on top. Blink, blink, sharpen, chasing away another wave of darkness. A harsh bark of gunfire, silver muzzle flashing in time with it. Bullets and ice, clashing in a deadly dance, the ricocheting harsh in the otherwise still air. Blink, sharpen. A crest of dyed hair, bedraggled from sweat and combat. That trademark jacket sporting sizeable tears, red seeping through the largest gash in the front. 

His head swam, everything shifting dizzily as he forced himself to move; to push up onto trembling hands and knees with growing urgency. His side continued its angry throbbing, pulsing in time with every heartbeat. His teeth wouldn’t stop clicking together. Continual shivers made it difficult to move. 

This is nothing. You’ve been through worse. Move. 

He planted a foot against the ice. Then a second. The dizziness heightened. He swayed but didn’t fall. Every heavy step was more of a stagger that threatened to devolve into a fall. He didn’t. Somehow. But even if he did, he would have forced himself up again. His eyes remained trained on the blood trails, doggedly following their path to their source.

-

Reyna couldn’t move any further. There was a wall at her back and the alley entrance blocked, preventing any plans of escape. From this distance, the girl looked like little more than a strange tendril-heavy shadow blocking the light every time her hair did that eerie fanning out movement. She kept a hand pressed against her chest, stemming the flow from a sizeable cut as she tracked her adversary’s slow approach. There were more, but smaller, welts, and what felt like developing bruises all over her body. For such a skinny thing, Miss Frost certainly packed a mean punch. 

Skates grinding echoed through the small passage, the lithe little grim reaper clearly eager to finish her off. Reyna didn’t raise her gun. Why bother? It was useless now, the last of her bullets lost trying to cover her retreat into this unfortunate dead end. It hadn’t exactly helped her much to begin with, anyways, the only thing to show for her efforts a few minor dents in those yellow metal gloves. No perforations nor blood, save her own, unfortunately.

Twin icy daggers materialised in the girl’s hands, frost crackling as they took shape. Those magenta eyes weren’t so blank now. Reyna felt some small sense of accomplishment at having cracked that cold exterior, making irritation bleed through, even if she still wasn’t certain which, exactly, of her words or actions had prompted it. Her grip on the pistol tightened, coolly holding the girl’s gaze. She wondered if she could get one last hit in before she bit the dust... Maybe break that pretty little nose... Hopefully her Rogues would have more luck. Assuming they arrived on the scene in time. Reyna’s arm tensed, drawing back in preparation to strike for what may just be the final time in her life...

And then K’ blurred into view a few feet in front of her. 

Joy at seeing him alive and moving switched to worry when he stumbled. He still looked worse for wear, panting raggedly, skin pale, and shivering noticeably. Yet he managed to catch himself before his face could kiss the concrete. Boots planted stubbornly, pivoting him in place to face the still encroaching threat. He thrust his right hand up, palm extended. The left grasped his forearm bracingly. His shoulders tensed, orange wisps flickering between his fingers. Those magenta eyes widened, the girl attempting to backpedal. They both knew the attempt would be futile. K’ reached deep inside himself, gathering every scrap of energy he had left, forcing the twisting warm presence within him together into one large mass and then diverting it all towards his arm. It began to tremble as the pressure within mounted. The red metal encompassing his hand turned redder still, the air around it warping. 

A scream tore from his throat - not so much one of his fierce battle cries as it was of pain - as flame roared out in a rolling blanket, large and blistering hot as a dragon’s breath. He caught a brief flash of blue-white before the alley was completely filled with his fire, ice rapidly growing into a thick protective dome over the girl mere milliseconds before the flames’ impact. He’d also seen her manage to finally skid to a stop and crouch, arms protectively thrown over her head, before the ice swallowed her up. A second scream filled the air, competing with his own and the deafening crackled snarls of his flames; high with terror and slightly echoed.

Steam billowed, filling the alley and spilling outwards in a dense cloud, as fire and ice struggled against one another. Reyna shielded her face, squinting through the cracks of the protective barrier of her arms. It was difficult to see anything beyond the steam and the living wall of angry roiling crimson. But peering between the gap of K’s arms, looking right at the centre of where the fire was being directed, she could catch slivers of blue amongst all the red and orange. It was some sort of ice cocoon or dome, she thought. At least from what little of its form she could make out. It shifted as much as the fire, rapidly melting in on itself under the heat, then hastily growing another thick sheet to patch the area over for fortification. Frankly, it was impressive that it was holding up at all, and it spoke volumes of just how extensive the ice doll’s strength and control over her abilities must be. But Reyna had to wonder just how long she could keep it up. She wasn’t even in the line of fire - was in the coolest, safest possible spot in the alley - and the heat was still oppressive as all hell. Holed up in an igloo or not, that girl was sure to cook.

A small eternity passed - seconds? Minutes? - before the impasse came to an end. 

Flames ceased pouring from K’s hand, as abruptly as if a tap had been turned off. The thick collection of tongues still in the air lingered for a few seconds before eventually wisping away, leaving only lingering heat and a sparse handful of tiny, but stubborn, fires licking at the cement and brickwork. The ice dome, now fully in view through the thinning steam, was still intact. But only barely; it was a misshapen mess, sagging in places and melting heavily. Slowly, Reyna lowered her arms. The girl, if she was still alive, didn’t emerge from her crumpling shelter at all. K’ also didn’t move from where he was standing, still keeping his hand outstretched and braced by the other. Though another tremble ran through his entire body and he began to list to one side the longer she watched, his knees buckling.

Reyna was by his side in a heartbeat, jamming her useless gun into its holster on the way there, barely managing to catch him around the waist before he fell. His lanky body leaned against her heavily, barely able to support itself. The gash on her chest complained but she ignored it; compartmentalised it to deal with later. “Jesus, Kay!” 

She fussed, swiping his sweaty fringe away and cupping his face to assess his state. A tiny noise that could have been a protest croaked from his mouth between uneven gasps but he didn’t shove her away; couldn’t, rather. He grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut. Trembling fingers rose, attempting to claw at his chest but fell short, dropping weakly by his side. She wasn’t too sure what was wrong, but he’d obviously messed himself up seriously pulling a strenuous stunt like that after being severely hypothermic and out of commission only minutes earlier. 

“You idiot fucking kid... Hey. Hey, look at me.” She had to tilt his head to grab his attention, and even then his focus was skewed. When he forced his eyes open the pupils were dilated, his stare hazy. “Just hang on okay? Stay awake; that’s an order.” She knew he hated those with a passion; with any luck his temper would help him stay conscious.

Reyna readjusted her grip, slinging one of his jacketed arms across her shoulders. He bit out a small moan as his injured side was pressed against her, the blood-tacky leather sticking unpleasantly. Gentle assurances were murmured, the arm at his waist pushing forward insistently to get him to move alongside her, even as her own injured chest shrieked its grievances. Every one of his steps was heavy and uncoordinated, threatening to send them both crashing into the pavement if she wasn’t vigilant. They began to edge around the sweating ice dome to exit the alley, Reyna sparing a nervous peek over her shoulder once it was behind them.

The girl was alive. Unburnt. But she remained curled up and trembling, hands wrapped protectively over her head with her back to them. Her shoulders hitched with sobs, just loud enough to be echoed in her dilapidated shelter and carry to Reyna’s ears. Her chest twisted hearing it. Jesus... for all that power, she really was just a kid in the end. Not for the first time, she couldn’t believe just how messed up NESTS was. Child freaking soldiers... Her grip on K’ tightened. 

Reyna marched on, resolute, leaving the girl to cower.

-

Spurred into action by the screaming, Diana and Foxy had ceased surveying immediately and charged into action. Rooftops were vaulted without so much as a pause in their stride until they dropped into the alley the noises originated from, boots thumping against the cement. They were quick to rise, taking hasty strides towards the sweating lump of ice. The pinching in their expressions relaxed some when the body within was still very much alive. Though the state of her was worrying. Blue skirts and red cape pooled around their ankles when the pair crouched by the open mouth of the ice construct.

“Kula,” Diana called out softly. There was a brief pause in the shaking shoulders. “It’s okay. We’re here now.”

Slowly, hands were lowered from head. A pale cheek peeked over a shoulder. Tears freely ran from the girl’s eyes, leaving tracks on her skin that began to frost over during their downward journey. She choked out a sob. The ice around her crumbled, shards of all sizes clattering against the cement. On hands and knees she scrambled over, hurling herself into outstretched arms and burying her face into the crook of the woman’s neck. Diana murmured gently, rubbing soothing circles against her back. Kula’s trembling began anew, more and louder sobs ripping from her throat.

“He,” she choked out, fingers fisting the back of Diana’s top. Snot joined the tears, wetting her shoulder, though she didn’t complain, still holding Kula close. “Sc-scary. He was so scary! It was so hot! I-“

“Ssh. I’ve got you.” Diana pressed a kiss into the soft blue locks, pressing the girl closer against her. She continued to snivel, trembling and whimpering. “You’re safe now.”

Foxy chewed her lip, eyes shifting from Kula’s trembling frame to catch her fellow’s. “Shall I catch them?” she inquired softly. At Diana’s nod, she rose. Two steps and she was by the huddled pair’s sides. She stooped, pressing a kiss of her own into Kula’s hair. “Good girl... You did very well.”

A fresh sob made her heart squeeze. By her side, her fists clenched, watching those slender shoulder shake harder. She was going to make that pair pay for every single one of those tears being shed. Foxy’s coat flared with her abrupt rise and turn. 

“I’m off,” she announced brusquely, jaw squared.

“See you at the rendezvous.” Diana watched her departure through lidded eyes. Come back safe they seemed to say.

Gloved fingers dragged across her bare shoulder in parting and promise. Then Foxy was gone, blurring away to begin her pursuit.

#Bite’s writing #shellalana #Starburst AU #Battleborn #Battlebarn #King of Fighters #crossover #*ragdolls and dies* I’m so sorry I took so long on this Mizzy; I had a million ideas to sort through #I hope it’s at least sort of worth it and doesn’t suck completely >->;; #Reyna Valeria #K’ #angry son #Kula Diamond #Foxy #Diana #and a gratuitous Shingo Yabuki cameo right near the beginning #so um. nobody warm up their extremities and/or move around harshly when hypothermic because that’ll send cold blood straight to your heart- #—and you’re likely gonna suffer an arrhythmia among other unfun stuff. like this foolish goblin boy just did

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Gorillaz Teacher! AU Headcanons

Headcanons for an au where the Gorillaz members are high school teachers instead of a virtual band. lol I've been thinking about this idea for awhile now and I thought it be alot of fun to do, so enjoy! Hopefully it's not too bad. Special thanks to my friend @you-cant-tell-me-what-to-draw for helping me with this. I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Murdoc:

• Wait, how'd he even get this job and why hasn't he been fired yet???

• Teaching is honestly just a shitty day job for him, once he earns enough, he's quitting to become a famous rockstar with his own band! Ah, he could see it now - fame, glory, girls, it sounds like a dream come true! But, until he had the money to make that dream a reality, he was stuck as the school's social studies teacher.

• When he quits his job as an "educator" it's gonna be very similar to the fuck you scene from the movie "Half Baked".

• The kids in all his classes really don't like him.

• He shows up to class 30 minutes late most of the time. Sometimes he'll show up completely sober, while other times he'll show up drunk.

• The pickle's got WAY too many political views that he refuses to keep to himself.

• If Murdoc falls asleep at his desk, one of the kids might try to either draw a dick on his forehead and take a picture of it, or they might try to put a 'kick me' sign on his back. But they have to be EXTRA careful or they might wake the grouchy goblin up!

• If he does wake up, he'll be extremely mad and end up giving the whole class a pop quiz first thing tommorrow morning.

• GRADING PAPERS IS SUCH A PAIN IN THE ARSE...So he simply doesn't do it.

• The only time Murdoc will actually teach his class something about social studies is if the principal, or some other important adult of the school, walks into the room to see what's up. Once they leave, he goes straight back to sleep.

• He thinks that Stuart Pot, the school's new music teacher, is an idiot. He decides to give him the nickname '2D' because he feels that the man is "too dense" to be a music teacher. Murdoc has walked by Stuart's classroom a couple of times before and has overheard him and his students singing while Stu plays the piano. He would usually put his ear against the door to hear more. He had to admit - the guy had some really nice vocals. Plus, he's tall, pretty, has blue hair and both of his eyeballs! Murdoc jots down in his head that he has to remember to force that Stu-Pot guy to be the front man of his future band once he gets the money he wants and decides to quit.

• Murdoc only tries to "befriend" 2D because he's a music teacher, and also because he wants him to be his future front man.

• When he learns that the teacher of the class with the highest test scores will receive a large bonus pay, he decides to change his style of "teaching", forcing the students in his class to study intensely for the upcoming test. However, that doesn't do much as the kids end up getting low scores on their tests.

• He's been embezzling money from the 9th grade bake sale.

2D/Stuart Pot:

• He's the new music teacher!

• He quickly becomes well-liked by students and co-workers. 

• Stuart's a nice teacher who carries himself off as a goofy professional who knows what he's doing.

• Believes that his students will become great musicians one day.

• He sometimes likes to teach with music playing in the background.

• He may accidentally give students test answers when they asked for clarification on a question.

• Will write original songs for his class to perform.

•Has an afterschool club where he teaches students how to play piano, keyboards, and melodica.

• https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WHLITe7KM_Y (His class in a nutshell)

• Stuart is a bit terrified of Murdoc because one time, when the two were on lunch duty together, Murdoc was explaining to him a dream that he had last night where he launched his car through a music shop that Stu-Pot was apparently working at and had knocked one of his eyes out! " Oh, uh, o-okay... W-Well, it's a good thing you aren't actually going to run me over with a real car, right?....RIGHT?!"

Noodle:

• She has a full real name, but prefers for people to refer to her as "Noodle" which was a nickname she got back in her childhood.

• The kids usually refer to her as "Ms. Noodle".

• She's the teaching assistant/ teacher's aide for Stuart's class!

• She's super kind because she pretty much helps everyone in the class who needs it, even the bratty kids.

• She's in charge of guitar club afterschool!

• She really likes guitar club since it provides a safe and fun environment for students to come together and enjoy music.

• She's a queen at playing acoustic guitar and ukulele!

•  You'll most likely find her in the teacher's lounge playing on her pink nintendo ds while drinking tea and munching on the vending machine candy and snacks that they had in there.

• The teacher's lounge was her favorite room to be in for obvious reasons.

Russel:

• He's the no nonsense math teacher who will joke around with his students from time to time, but then get very serious with them when it comes to their grades.

• Mr. Hobbs knows how to make math fun with a capital F!

• They didn't do so well on a test? Not a problem! Russel will happily allow a student to retake it, so as long as they go home and study.

• He'll greet each student by their name as they walk into his class.

• Russel generally cares about his students and wants the best for all of them. 

• He's real with his students.

• Will bring in a treat for the class if they did really well on a quiz or test!

• Allows his students to be on their phones once they've completed all their work.

• When his students throw him a surprise party in classroom on his birthday, he breaks down in happy tears.

• Murdoc's class is across the hall from his.

• Russel doesn't know why but...he gets the feeling that Mr. Niccals is teaching for all the wrong reasons.

• He really doesn't think Murdoc should be teaching teenagers, or really anyone. I mean, Russel couldn't think of anyone less suited to being a teacher.

• Whenever he's in the teacher's lounge, he likes socializing with other teachers like 2D or Noodle but never with Murdoc. He's someone Russel tries to avoid.

#gorillaz #murdoc niccals #stuart pot #stu pot #2d #noodle #russel hobbs #teacher au #au #headcanons #writing #my writing

[anewalternia]

so strange it was to see him look so wistfully at the day (part 1)

Word Count: 3230 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: disease, slavery, captivity. Characters: young psiioniic and one million fantrolls Pairings: n/a Summary: Your name is Mituna Captor, and you are not fond of licorice. You’re three and a half sweeps old when a plague descends upon the psion compound, and changes everything you know.

It all starts out when a five sweeps old troll starts coughing her head off.

She says the cough is nothing, apparently a bitchy rustblood kicked dirt into her face on her way back from Octagon Plaza, and she’s been coughing ever since.

Naturally she’s been second-warned for leaving the compound, which means confinement to quarters for two weeks and reduced rations. Trolls from her clade sneak her extra rations and sweets, and the instructors pretty much turn a blind eye to this. She must be powerful if she can just leave like that, and come back without being noticed, all at the age of five. She’s too promising to punish much.

And it’s not like any of you would have dropped a dime on her even if she hadn’t been caught. She’s brought a sack of peppermints back for the younger wigglers. There must be like a million in the sack.

She leaves the sack in the hallway. Even some of the 6+ sweeps sneak down from the second floor to grab a peppermint or two, and exchange greetings with her.

“As long as I don’t step over the edge of this doorway, I can talk to you guys,” Alzirr says. “How’s training?”

“Hard,” a six sweeps old troll answers. He notices you noticing him, comes over, and ruffles your hair. “How you doin’ tonight, Tuna? Kill anyone good lately?”

“No, Alhena,” you say solemnly.

The older trolls like you, because you accidentally zapped Instructor Irvaan with enough energy to knock him unconscious. And since it was a total accident, and you’re still too young to do things with much malice, he couldn’t even get mad and warn you over it.

Besides, warnings are a little bit of a joke in Psi Block, also known as the End of The Line. 

All of you have scored Stupidly High - that’s an official designation, right? - at or above 97 percent on the exams of psionic prowess. Therefore all of you are potential Helmsmen to the Battleship Condescension or other powerful ships in the Imperial Fleet, except for the trolls over twelve who live here, who are on their way to become Instructors and Elders. You’re on the fast track to something prestigious, in other words.

Sometimes, your kinder instructors even give you sweets on your off day. So you arguably receive the most leniency of any other block, even if it’ll disappear once you hit the age of six. 

Then, four sweeps of rigorous training. Once that’s through, the best of you leave the compound right after that. Two male trolls. Two female trolls. Conscripts, all of them. One day you will be so lucky. You hope.

Your name is Mituna Captor, you are three and a half sweeps old, and you are not very fond of licorice. You share your room with several other trolls, all of whom are between 3.0 and 3.9 sweeps of age. Your room is the second youngest in the compound, with the 2.0 to 2.9s next door being the absolute youngest. You are so glad you’re out of that room. 

You’re in a room with trolls who know how to not piss in their recuperacoons. Mostly.

Alhena, the upperclassman troll who engaged you in conversation, sits down in front of you and asks if you want to play cards You like Alhena, possibly almost as much as you like Alzirr. He checks up on you. Him and Velyor, although Velyor’s younger than him.

Velyor’s five sweeps old, and he’s her moirail, so he’s probably trying to bring the entire fucking cafeteria downstairs to her. He’s strong enough that he probably could. 

You learned that word a sweep ago. Fuck. It’s a good word to have in one’s vocabulary, or so Jishui Avehoa says. 

Alzirr calls Velyor and Alhena glorified surrogate lusii as she stands in the doorway to the 5 room.

“Like you’re not a contender. You stole a sack of peppermints from some poor confectionary vendor probably running the shop out of his basement. And I know you didn’t steal ‘em for the trolls upstairs,” Alhena points out.

“You got me there,” she replies.

When you go outside, wigglers from other the blocks call the wigglers from your block jerkasses, spoiled fucks, and a few other interesting things. 

Everyone from Psi is kind of used to it, though. You don’t rise to the bait.

So trolls outside Psi continue talking their usual shit, until a few of you start hurling peppermints over the short fence that separates your blocks. At first, they think this is an attack.

Standing beside you, Jishui and Zesria laugh their asses off.

Then the intelligent ones realize you’re trying to share, while the dumb ones run back inside and don’t get any peppermints.

You levitate several peppermints over to your friends in Chi Block. That’s the block for trolls scoring between 90 and 96.9 percent on the exams.

Arcsin and Arctan grab them out of the air, eat the candy, and then pelt each other with the cellophane. 

Arccos grabs a handful and dares anyone who wants to try to take them from her. Nobody takes her up on this challenge. Most of the Chi wigglers get so quiet that you could hear a cricket fart in the ensuing silence.

Meanwhile, Jishui and Zesria are laughing so hard that they’ve stopped producing sound.

More than a few threes from Chi Block think Arccos should be on your side of the fence.

“We don’t want her, you can have her,” Arcsin tells you frankly, after he attempts to steal one of her peppermints and gets his ass handed to him, his hair crackling from static discharge.

She then zaps him, for good measure.

You stand there and try your level best not to laugh, while Arcsin calls her… every swear word in existence, and Arctan tries to intervene. 

Poor Arctan. He deserves better.

Later, in the morning, you try to sleep easy, with a few peppermints on your side of the recuperacoon. 

You’ll share these with one other troll. He’s pretty chill. Dienre is calmer than you are, generally. He’s papped you before, and zapped you a few times too. You do the same to him when he freaks out, which doesn’t happen all that often.

“Want any peppermints?” you ask him, once you get into your recuperacoon. He’s already asleep.

He would be. Screw him.

You only sleep for three or four hours. You can’t seem to get comfortable for some reason. 

You get out of your recuperacoon, unlock your door - it’s way too easy - and walk out into the hallway. 

You see a pair of eyes glowing violet near the floor about a foot away from the room for 2 sweeps olds. Pinyix, you think. 

They didn’t sleep well either. They never have. They have to be the second youngest troll in Psi block, but still. You’d mastered sleep by then. You don’t know why they haven’t. 

In fact, you were a veritable master of sleeping. An older wiggler had to forcibly drag you out of your recuperacoon every night for breakfast.

You hear a voice that doesn’t belong to Pinyix, though. Only one troll sounds like that.

“… and that’s why you have to calm down. It was just a dream,” Velyor says.

“But it wasn’t only a dream,” Pinyix insists. “I saw.”

“You had too much candy.”

“I saw, Velyor.”

Pinyix could not get any fucking creepier if they tried. Yeah, they saw. Any troll with eyeballs who hasn’t stared at the sun can probably see.

“Well, what did you see?” Velyor asks.

“Auxiliatrices.” Pinyix doesn’t speak for a while. “Other things.”

“Auxiliatrices? Big word for a two. Where did you learn it?”

“I saw,” Pinyix repeats.

“What did you see?” he asks a second time, his tone growing exasperated.

“You’ll see too, Velyor. We live.”

Pinyix’s eyes cease to glow.

Velyor notices you noticing him and walks over to you.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“Nope.”

“We didn’t wake you, did we?”

“Nope.” You think for a bit. “I haven’t slept this shitty since the week ‘fore the fucking fire.”

“You sure got a filthy mouth on you for a three,” Velyor says. He thinks. “But hm. You might be right. I didn’t sleep right that week either.”

A wildfire decimated parts of Omega and Epsilon Block a sweep ago. 

Alhena raged about it for ages afterwards. He’s a prescient, so he saw it coming in dreams, but no one listened. Why the fuck are all so many buildings made mostly of wood products? he wanted to know. This isn’t the fucking Dark Ages.

Decimated. That’s another word you learned fairly recently. To kill by one tenth. It was probably closer to two in every ten, though.

You think.

“Hall inspections!” A troll yells into the mostly darkened hallway. “Any wigglers with insomnia, go back to your rooms!”

“Fuck you, Alhena!” Velyor calls back.

“Velyor? That you?”

“No, it’s Asyeva. Here to cite you ‘cause your tunic doesn’t cover your ass anymore.”

“Real funny, Velyor. I should give you detention.”

“You wish you could give me detention.”

“I pity the troll who has to give you detention.”

“Wanna pail ‘em?” Velyor asks.

“Not that kind of pity, you pan-rotted dipshit. It’s the kind of pity where you’re like ‘I feel bad for what you’re going through, but I wouldn’t switch places with you for ten billion caegars.’”

“I think that’s what Alzirr feels when she looks at anyone in your quads.”

You wish Zesria and Dienre were up. They would be entertained. You certainly are.

“Velyor, I’ll pay that wiggler in the 3 room,” he starts out. “I’ll pay Mituna twenty peppermints to electrocute you in your sleep.”

“Thirty,” you say. “Take it or leave it.”

Velyor looks down at you.

“Traitor,” he says.

“Thirty,” Alhena agrees.

Pinyix giggles.

“Okay,” Alhena says, switching on the flashlight he’s been given. Apparently he really is in charge of hall patrol today. “How many fucking wigglers are in here?”

“Me,” you say. “And Pinyix. Velyor’s five, though. He’s an adult.”

“Oh yeah, he’s such an adult,” Alhena says. “If anything, I’m the adult. I have the flashlight. I hate being a hall monitor.”

“So why are you doing it?” Velyor asks.

“Because my name came up on the roster. What is this even preparation for? I know I’ll never be an instructor. When will I ever need this experience in the helmsblock?”

“What if someone invades your ship?” Velyor asks. “You gotta know how to detect intruders.”

“The point of me being the helmsman of a ship is that all potential invaders are already gonna be too dead to board me.”

You and Pinyix snort.

“You sound even more pissy than usual,” Alzirr says from her doorway. “And yes, before any of you ask, yes you did wake me up.”

“Call it a slumber party,” Alhena says. “I just had to patrol the wiggler floors of Chi and Phi block. Do you know how many of them are sitting in the hallways?”

“More than there are supposed to be?” Velyor says.

“I almost tripped over the trigonometric triplets. They were in the hallway, right outside the four sweeps room in Chi Block, lying on the floor playing Fiduspawn. They said they couldn’t sleep. Everyone’s got insomnia.”

He looks fleetingly unsettled, then goes back to grumbling.

“Good for them,” Velyor says. “When you do patrol there again, confiscate Arctan’s Fiduspawn cards.”

“Which one is Arctan and why am I confiscating his cards?”

“He’s the one with the stupid hair, and he stole ten of my cards last time I snuck him over here.”

“So duel him and reclaim what’s yours. I’m not getting lectured for abusing my power.”

“Your power consists of a flashlight, and I’m not dueling a four from a lesser block. What if I cull him by accident?”

“Your problem, not mine,” Alhena replies.

At that moment, Alzirr slides to a sitting position on the floor, holding her head in one hand. She groans.

Alhena steps over to her, concerned.

“Alzirr? You don’t look so hot.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it? I’m freezing my ass off,” she replies.

Pinyix’s eyes begin to glow again. You shove them. You hate when they do that.

“Hey!” Alhena says. “Don’t shove the underclassmen!”

“But Pinyix is creepy,” you protest.

“Pin’s a prescient. They’re not creepy. I’m a prescient, too.” Alhena kneels down in front of them. “What’s going on in that thinkpan of yours? What are you seeing?”

“Alzirr,” Pinyix says.

“What about Alzirr?”

Pinyix shakes their head repeatedly. and refuses to answer.

“Come on. I won’t tell any of the instructors, I promise,” Alhena says. “But if it’s bad, we gotta know. What happens? Does she get in trouble for the peppermints or something?

They put their index fingers on Alhena’s temples and stare at him for a while.

Everything’s quiet. 

Then his flashlight sputters, but doesn’t go out. 

It’s pretty fucking dark in this hallway with the sun shades pulled, but you can still tell he’s gone like five shades lighter.

“Can’t stop this,” Pinyix says, their eyes returning to normal. “I saw.”

Alhena backs away from Pinyix, looking shocked, and afraid. 

He picks them up, and balances them on his hip.

“Let’s go back to your room, Pin. You’ve definitely had too much candy.”

All respect to Alhena, but while Pinyix must have eaten like sixty peppermints - how even? that’s like half their mass - you don’t think it’s the candy anymore.

They protest this, but Alhena’s big for a six and Pinyix is small for a two. You’re pretty sure he’s just gonna throw them back into their recuperacoon anyway.

“I don’t think Alhena liked what he saw,” you say.

Velyor curses loudly.

“What?” you ask.

“Tuna, don’t tell me you’re getting all prescient on me too. I don’t wanna know when I’m gonna die, for fuck’s sake,” he says. “Once, Alhena said I was gonna be in a revolt, so maybe those see forward trolls don’t actually know what they’re talking about.”

“A revolt?”

“Yeah. Like an uprising?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why would you do that?” 

“Fuck if I know. Maybe for more sauce on my grubloaf.”

That, admittedly, is a pretty good reason.

Then, Alhena comes out of the two room, his expression inscrutable.

“Back to your rooms,” he says to you and Velyor in monotone. “Now.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Alhena, it’s almost evening anyway.”

“Go back to your rooms,” he repeats.

Velyor flips him off.

“Are you capable of not busting my globes?”

“Go back to your room and I won’t have to.” Alhena puts a concerned hand over his mouth, but you two can hear what he’s about say then. “Oh fuck. I gotta find someone.”

If Alhena’s cursing like that, it’s gotta be serious

“Like who?” Velyor asks, from his spot in the 5 room doorway now.

“An adult! Instructor Asyeva, maybe!”

“I thought you were an adult,” Velyor says. “Six with a flashlight. Monitor of the halls. Can’t be anything but an adult, right?”

“A real one, I mean!” When Velyor tries to help Alzirr to her feet, Alhena zaps him. “Don’t touch her, okay? I’ll explain later. Alzirr?”

“Yeah?” she murmurs.

“I’m going to get you some help.”

Before he leaves this level altogether, he calls on Velyor again.

“And Velyor?”

“What now.”

“Keep an eye on the two sweeps. Especially Pinyix.”

“Yes, Glorious Leader. Are you gonna ever explain anything to me?”

“Just do what I say. You’ll find out later.”

Velyor gives him a mock salute. “Yes, officer.”

Once he leaves, Velyor calls into the hallway, “And that, friends, is why I fucking hate prescient trolls.”

Then, he helps Alzirr to her feet.

She tries to thank him, but ends up vomiting on his tunic.

“Alzirr, what even!” he wants to know. “The fuck?”

“I didn’t–” She pauses so she can retch again, but this time, away from him. “I didn’t mean to do that, Velyor, honest.”

He makes a diamond gesture at her with his index and middle fingers. 

And you know you’re not strictly allowed in the five room, but you want to help Velyor. And you still have a bunch of wadded up napkins from the cafeteria in the pocket of your tunic. You hand them to him.

“Thanks, Tuna.” He turns to face Alzirr again. “And, it’s alright, Alzirr. Forgiven. Let me get you back into your recuperacoon.”

“I feel sick.”

“Yeah, no shit. Did you steal soporifics or something while you were out?”

Alzirr rolls her eyes. “No. You think that low of me? That I’d steal soporifics and not share?”

“I would never suggest anything like that.”

Seventy-two hours later, Psi Block is on lockdown, and Alzirr has been gone for the last sixty-ish of those hours. 

One hundred and something trolls have taken ill between Phi, Chi, and Psi Blocks, at least according to your math. 

Arcsin gave you the numbers from Chi Block, Khifos gave you the numbers from Phi block, you have the numbers from Psi block, and you added them all together. 

You three have been hanging signs out the window to communicate with each other.

Drones remove the recuperacoons in your rooms and replace them with small single-troll cots in the rooms, the hallways, the communal nutritionblocks, and anywhere they can jam one. 

One troll to a cot. Name of the troll written on cardboard square and hung on the foot of the cot. No exceptions. Anyone found lying in a cot with another troll, regardless of quadrant affiliation, is subject to second-warning status and summary culling for a subsequent transgression.

Culling? They can’t possibly execute anyone in Psi Block. You’re all too important.

Additionally, at the start of morning, the drones will inject into your arm a small volume of sopor with single-use syringes. This will put you to sleep for eight hours.

Irvaan reads these regulations in the wiggler hallway. Most of you understand what he’s saying, but don’t quite understand why he’s saying it.

“Where’s Alzirr?” Velyor yells after Irvaan, once he’s done.

“The infirmary,” Irvaan answers.

“Pinyix!” Velyor calls. Pinyix pokes their head out of their cot. “Where’s Alzirr?”

They shake their head.

“Will you answer yes or no questions?” Velyor asks.

They nod.

“Is Alzirr in the infirmary?”

They nod.

Velyor looks like he wants to ask another question.

“Never mind. I don’t want to know,” he finally says.

The sack of peppermints is put into a large bag, dragged into the flogging square, and burned, the acrid, cloying smell of scorched sugar lingering in the air.

The next night, while you’re playing cards with Kolnai, you hear the metal door to Psi Block open. Irvaan leaves. 

Just as well ‘cause you figure, based on the static in the air, that a few trolls are thinking of taking him on the way you did. Except you did it by accident.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says to whoever’s downstairs, leading them into the building. Hold on. Ladies?

“Ladies?” Velyor asks. He shouts, “Anyone got a cot near the window and can tell me what the fuck?”

“Auxiliatrices,” Pinyix says.

“Aren’t you helpful?” Velyor asks them. “Can you tell me when Mituna’s going to die or something? He’s got fifty peppermints under his cot.”

“Why’s it gotta be me, you bulgemunch?” you ask.

“Cause you’re the only troll who thought to stockpile peppermints.”

“He’s not,” Pinyix says, looking rattled nonetheless, as they gaze at you.

“Fucking awesome,” you say. “Pin says I’m not gonna die.”

“That’s practically a clean bill of health,” Zesria says to you from the cot across from yours.

The auxiliatrices stand at the start of the young wiggler corridor, in almost identical formal dress, with identical-looking haircuts. 

Their faces have slightly different features, though, at least you think they do under the face masks. And their horns are all different. 

But they all seem identically afraid of you, except for the first one into the hallway proper, who rips her mask off, and starts to examine the oldest of the five sweeps.

“I don’t know if that’s advisable, Elder–” Irvaan starts.

“Onzozo,” she says. And then, with a heavy accent, she declares, “I’ve seen this before. It can’t spread to jadebloods.”

“I wish I had your certainty,” he says. “Security measures being what they are–”

She gives him a glare so stern that he actually shuts up.

That has got to be the greatest thing you’ve seen all sweep.

“I like her already,” Velyor says. “Wonder if she’s got a matesprit.”

“Probably not interested in you either way,” Zesria says.

“Why are auxiliatrices here, though?” you want to know. “They don’t even use our language most of the time.”

“Cause exiled ones assist medicullers,” Kolnai says. “They learn shit about troll anatomy in the caverns. Way more useful than knowing how to call you a dumbass. Even if someone should.”

You spark.

“Nobody asked you,” you reply.

Velyor rolls his eyes and yells for an auxiliatrix, until he gets the attention of two.

“Ma’am? Can any of you understand Common Alternian well?”

“Yes,” the younger, more terrified one says, trembling all the while. “I can.”

Velyor points to you and Kolnai.

“Well, these two idiots need to be examined.”

“Fuck you!” you and he yell at Velyor in unison.

The auxiliatrix stumbles over and deposits a thermometer underneath your tongue with shaky hands. Since you can’t swear until she’s done taking your temperature, you flip Velyor the double bird. That’ll have to work for now. 

“Least she didn’t put the thermometer up your wastechute,” Zesria says.

You hate all these trolls sometimes.

#sigma block