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#it’s not the same and it’ll never be the same.
liliavanrougelover · 2 days
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Would the TWST boys wake up to your alarm?
Summary: Would the TWST boys wake up to your alarm and how would they react to it?
Characters: All NRC students (-Ortho)
Warnings: none(?) (please correct me if I'm wrong)
A/N: I'm working on the Riddle SMAU, but it's taking longer than I expected. Enjoy these silly head cannons while you wait.
Riddle Rosehearts:
Yes and he’s grateful for it. His mother made him wake himself up. She didn’t allow him to get an alarm clock and just expected him to wake up, and that’s not exactly an easy thing to do. While he’s happy, he is used to waking up earlier than you. He probably gets up at 5:30- 6 am, I could never. He would either set up an alarm on his phone or ask if you could set one on your phone. If you set one for him on your phone, he would be grateful, but if you didn’t, he would understand. On the mornings where he wants to sleep in, he would turn off his alarm and let yours wake him up.
Trey Clover:
Yes. He would wake up to your alarm, but he doesn’t. Why? Because he has his own alarm. His alarm is set to the same time as yours because he’s not willing to get up at the crack of dawn. If you sleep through your alarm, he’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed. He’ll make sure he knows what you like for breakfast and he’ll make sure to make it perfect for you. He likes making breakfast for you so much that you may find your alarm has been silenced.
Cater Diamond:
Yes and it upsets him. He groans, flops himself on top of you and tells you to turn it off. If you do, he’ll nuzzle into you and fall back asleep. If you don’t he’ll climb over you and turn it off himself. If you want him to wake up, you’ll have to wake him up yourself. He has made a few magicam posts about your alarm. “Their alarm is the only thing I dislike about them.” -The first post Cater made when you first slept over. He tells you to turn the sound down or you’re never sleeping over again. The ideal volume is none. He’s asking you to delete it.
Ace Trappola:
It takes at least 3 alarms to wake him up and if you have that, he’ll be upset. He doesn’t like waking up and when he wakes up from an alarm? He’s not happy. He’ll reach over you and try to turn your alarm off while sleepily complaining. You can’t even understand what he’s saying because his words are all slurred and quiet. Once he’s fully awake, he’ll make complaints that you can understand.
Deuce Spade:
It takes 2 alarms to wake him and he’d be glad if you had that. He’s slept in more than he likes to admit so he’s very glad that your alarms wake him up. He’ll be a bit confused at first and ask you what that noise is. You’ll have to remind him to get out of bed or he’ll just sit there trying not to fall asleep again. He’s happy your alarms wake him up and he lets you know.
Leona Kingscholar:
It takes 5 alarms to wake him up and he hopes to the sevens you don’t have that much. If you do have that many alarms, he’ll be pissed. He’ll straight up tell you to delete it. He’ll make you delete it. If you don’t then he’ll send you back to your dorm. If you’re really adamant about waking up, he’ll get Ruggie to wake you up.
Ruggie Bucchi:
It helps him wake up. He’s used to waking up early to get him and his grandma breakfast so he naturally wakes up early. If your alarm is natural volume (not too loud, not too quiet) he’s glad that it helps him. If it’s loud, it’ll scare him. He grew up in a pretty cut-throat environment and he’s used to something trying to attack him. Please, turn your alarm down for him. If it helps you wake up, he’ll wake you up himself. Just please turn it down or turn it off. His poor heart can’t take it.
Jack Howl:
He wakes up earlier than you do. The first thing he does when he wakes up is go for a jog so he doesn’t hear your alarm. He doesn’t even know you have one. When he gets back after his jog and you’re still asleep, he’ll wake you up and offer to make you breakfast. It’s just bland cereal and milk though so if that’s not what you like, make your own.
Azul Ashengrotto:
He wakes up early. It’s what a good business person does. He’s very tired when he does though. He’s groggy and he’s trying to keep his eyes open. But, you see, he grew up in the Coral Sea. The Coral Sea is known to be a very dangerous place. Jade has said that it’s very cut-throat, so Azul has gotten attacked (probably) more than once. He hears your alarm and is sent into a full blown panic. He’s fully awake now. He shakes you awake and tells you that something’s attacking. You have to turn off your alarm and explain it to him. He eventually gets used to it. Remember to be patient with him when he wakes you up the moment your alarm goes off.
Jade Leech:
Jade has his own alarm. He wakes up really early but is still groggy. He’s thankful to have your alarm wake him up as well. He would wake up from his alarm and just kinda sit up in bed and stare at the wall, and then your alarm goes off and he finally gets out of bed. He’s especially grateful if you wake up from your alarm so he has someone to talk to while getting ready. (And he totally won’t convince you to wake up Floyd for him /s).
Floyd Leech:
Oh no. You need a new phone. The alarm goes off and Floyd lunges at it and crushes your phone. And when you get mad at him, he blames you. He tells you that you should’ve turned it off before it woke him up (Like he didn’t destroy it the second it went off). He’ll buy you a new phone if you can make him feel better after being woken up like that. Maybe turn off your alarm when you sleep over again.
Kalim Al-Asim:
He doesn’t have an alarm. He has people to wake him up so he never needed an alarm. He’ll wake up when your alarm goes off and thinks someone’s calling you. He’ll just nuzzle into your arm and murmur about someone calling you. When you tell him it’s your alarm, he’s confused. He thought everyone got woken up by other people. Whenever he hears your alarm go off, he hurries to turn it off so he can continue cuddling with you.
Jamil Viper:
He has his own alarm, but sometimes it’s best if he doesn’t wake up to it. His alarm goes off super early, like 5 am early. With how much he does, he’ll sometimes sleep through it. The first time you slept over, he slept through his alarm, but woke up to yours and he assumes someone changed the time his alarm goes off. Even though he claims that he hates sleeping through his alarm, sometimes he’ll turn it off before going to bed so he can wake up with you.
Vil Schoenheit:
He also has an alarm that goes off earlier than yours. He’ll be in his bathroom doing early morning skincare when he hears your alarm go off. He waits a few minutes before returning to see if you woke up. If you didn’t, he’ll wake you up and tell you that you should wake up the moment your alarm goes off. If you did, he’ll ask how you slept and tell you to brush your teeth, take a shower, etc. etc. (If your alarm is super loud, he’ll ask about your mental health).
Rook Hunt:
Rook is the lightest sleeper in the school. It’s his hunting instincts. In fact, if you asked him, he’d say he never truly feels like he’s asleep (He says it more theatrically). So, technically, no. Your alarm doesn’t wake him up, because he wasn’t asleep. He’ll tell you how beautiful your alarm sounds. It could be set to a tornado warning sound and he’ll still think it’s beautiful (just like you). If you don’t wake up from your alarm, he’ll continue to lay in bed with you. You don’t move, he won’t move.
Epel Felmier:
Your alarm wakes him up and he’s grumpy. It doesn’t matter what wakes him up, he’ll be grumpy. He needs coffee. He wakes up and just curls himself around you. If you insist on getting up, he insists you bring him coffee. If you make him get up, he’ll groan and complain, but get up anyway.
Idia Shroud:
He has his own alarm. He calls it “Ortho”. He’s used to Ortho coming and waking him up, so when your alarm goes off, and wakes him up, he’s confused. Was that his phone? Is someone calling him? Oh sevens, he hopes not. When he realizes it’s your alarm, he calms down. He had a mini panic attack when he thought someone was calling him. If you didn’t wake up from it, he just pokes you and if that doesn’t wake you up, he just lays back down.
Malleus Draconia:
Malleus doesn’t know what an alarm is. Your alarm goes off and he shoots up in bed ready to attack whatever broke in (At least it woke him up?). You just have to sleepily explain what an alarm is. Every morning he forgets and still thinks something or someone broke in. Give him a bit of time to let it sink in. He’ll get used to it, eventually.
Lilia Vanrouge:
Lilia has his own alarm. Five to be exact. None of them wake him up. So, why would your alarm be any different? Lilia is a heavy sleeper, especially if he spent the night playing video games. The only way to make sure he gets up is to drag him out of bed. He thanks you for getting him up and offers to make you breakfast as a “thank you”.
Silver Vanrouge:
It doesn’t wake him up. His own alarms don’t wake him and neither does yours. I mean, a loud alarm would wake him, but he’d also rush to grab his sword because he thinks someone’s attacking. You’re gonna have to wake him yourself. Just shake him awake and tell him to wake up. He apologizes for making you wake him up, and it’s best to just accept it. You can try and tell him it isn’t his fault, but he’ll keep insisting until you “forgive” him (there's nothing to forgive).
Sebek Zigvolt:
He wakes up the moment it goes off. He's up and ready to fight. He looks at your phone, sees that it’s an alarm and asks what’s happening. Just like with Malleus, you have to explain what an alarm is. He doesn’t approve. What do you mean you can’t wake up on your own accord? He thought that was just Silver. He offers to wake you up in place of your alarm. The offer is not as nice as it sounds. He essentially yells in your ear to wake up. The alarm is better.
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81folklore · 1 day
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i can do it with a broken heart - f1 grid
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parings: gn!driver!reader x platonic!f1!grid x ex!jacob elordi
summary: after yn and their ex break up, they carry on as best they can and no on had any idea how bad they were struggling
notes: george is in this but he does not drive for mercedes, yn does. i also used a mixture of fem and masc pictures because i couldnt decide and thought you could just imagine whatever you wish!!
notes 2: probably the longest fic ive done so far but im pretty proud of it. the time stamps above each section are semi important so i would keep an eye on them!! also i know ive been gone for so long but i do not promise ill be back. alsoooo i know i only included a bit of the grid but i kept getting distracted and then couldn’t figure out how to include everyone!!
masterlist
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march 2024
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charles oh my god i cant believe my cat is finally the pfp
i have been waiting for YEARS
max yes well you better enjoy it because it’ll change soon and you’ll be back to waiting again.
lando jesus max do you have to use punctuation???
alex be glad he doesnt use captials
oscar one thing at a time lando, we dont want to scare him
max ???
lando anyway
yn mate you ok?
yourname im fine? ur scaring me you never ask how i am
lando yeah but usually your not single
lewis oh no! you and jacob split?
yourname yeah, wasnt working anymore
charles ah im sorry, that must suck😣
yourname i mean it does but its been coming for a long time so its not surprising
fernando hello! yn what is wrong? you always use emotes!
yourname theyre emojis nando, and im fine just a bit lost
fernando do not worry, i will come and find you!
yourname no, i dont mean literally just..we were together for so long i dont really know what to do now you know?
lando i get it, you wanna play tarkov with me???
yourname cheers ill get on now
george let us know if you need anything!
may 2024
yourusername
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liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 814,583 others
p✌️ was just what we needed this weekend!
thank you to everyone who came out and supported myself and the team and huge thank you to the team for working so hard all weekend⭐️
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mercedesamgf1 mega job this weekend yn👊 *liked by author*
landonorris nice to share the podium with you mate
yourusername same time next race?
user33 loved seeing you back on the podium
user2 absolutely smashing it this season
user21 more podiums please🤲 *liked by author*
user3 fourth podium of the year first p✌️*liked by author*
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*pretend it says after march i changed dates around last min*
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august 2024
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liked by lukehemmings, charles_leclerc and 1,124,642 others
did some reading, painting and writing
baked some good food and spent time with some good people, also got a cat…not bad for summer break☀️
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user66 AHHHHHH
yourusername ahhhhhhh
user26 cats name plsplspls
yourusername norman🐱
lukehemmings nice music👍
yourusername woah arent you the guy who wrote mum?!
mercedesamgf1 ready to see you back on the podium
yourusername always!!!!
user74 have you had funnnn??
yourusername yesss!! ive been doing lots of things i enjoy, basically treating every day as my birthday😋
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*was supposed to write them instead of her sorry!! was doing two stories at once and kept getting mixed up😅*
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october 2024
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liked by mercedesamgf1, gracieabrams and 1,291,638 others
p☝️ for the 3rd time this season, very very pleased
huuuuuge thank you to the team, every single one of you who worked tirelessly over the summer break and every moment since then, these have been for you⭐️
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user55 what a good season to be a yn fan *liked by author*
user6 these races have been incredible to watch, so proud
yourusername ⭐️⭐️
gracieabrams woop woop!!!!
yourusername 😝😝
user2 gracie??
user41 why have we not had any personal photo dumps yet😕😕
user88 right we miss seeing you yn!!
yourusername sorry guys😣ive been suuuper busy working on something i just honestly forgot
user41 NEW PROJECT?? WHEN?? (also pls dont feel bad we love u)
yourusername soon!! (and i love u guys too)
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november 2024
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liked by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 3,689,921 others
tagged: taylorswift
i cannot believe i get to say this, but my new friend taylor just released a new album and i was able to write a song on the album
im honestly not sure how this came about but i had so much fun writing this and expressing all my thoughts and feelings in a way ive never done before
i poured my life and soul into this song and im so glad taylor is the one who is singing it and really bought it to life
send some love to my friend and go and stream THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT (most importantly i can do it with a broken heart😉)
comments have been limited
taylorswift thank you for trusting me with this song, so much love🤍
yourusername NO THANK YOU!!! i will be forever grateful⭐️⭐️
twitter
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yourusername added to their story
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seen by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 729,282 others
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charles i feel completely betrayed yn
fernando oh no😟! what did yn do?
charles THEY DIDNT TELL ME THEY WERE WRITING A SONG??
AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT HOW COULD YOU☹️☹️
yourname sorry charles, surprise?!
charles ill forgive you because its a good song
yourname thank you my life just got infinitely better!
yuki very good song yn! has been on repeat☺️
yourname thanks yuki, glad you like it!!
lando I LOVE IT TOO
but seriously are you ok?!
yourname yeahhh im better now
was just a lot to navigate
lewis glad you found an outlet! but remember you can always talk to any of us
yourname i know and i appreciate it, i really do
alex yn was that twitter thread right?
yourname mate youre going to have to elaborate
alex user56tweetlink
yourname oh pretty much yeah
some things were changed with taylor but not much
fernando just listened to the song yn! very nice👍well done!
yourname thank uu
max good song yn!
now
lando can you please tell me what you meant on your twitch stream!
oscar max is kind of scary
max dont make me talk about that interview next oscar!
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♥︎ The Way I Am ♥︎
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♥︎ Pairing ♥︎ fiance!seonghwa x gn!makeup artist!reader
♥︎ Genre ♥︎ fluff/angst
♥︎ Summary ♥︎ Your fiance's been successfully keeping his love of makeup hidden from you. That is until you come home early from a trip and find him using your things. Your reaction is (of course ♥︎) the exact opposite of what he feared.
♥︎ Word Count ♥︎ 1.6kish
♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Hwa does express his worries about being vulnerable with his identity so if that's sensitive to you that's super important to note. Other than that, nothing. Just fluff and reassurance ♥︎
♥︎ A/N ♥︎ I hope that if you're reading this and you feel nervous about expressing your gender identity out of fear that people won't accept you, you know that you're totally worthy of love and acceptance no matter what. Love you ♥︎
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"'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise and you take me the way I am" - Ingrid Michaelson (The Way I Am)
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Seonghwa hopes that you don’t notice. A few drops of foundation here. A swipe or two of eyeliner there. Maybe some lipstick or blush if he’s feeling adventurous. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to do this for him. You’re the most talented makeup artist he’s ever met. Watching you work is like art. How wonderful it’d be to bare the most vulnerable part of himself to you. To be your lover and your canvas. But every time he tries to open up the fear creeps in and the words won’t come out.
So this is the way it is—the way it’ll always have to be. Your wedding’s less than a month away and the thought that he might lose you makes his soul ache. He can’t risk losing you. He won’t risk losing you. 
Tonight he’s raided your makeup supplies for everything necessary to create the soft, romantic look of his dreams. With the warm air of a summer night blowing through the bedroom window and Spotify’s best Taylor Swift mix blasting in his over-ear headphones, the vibe couldn't be more perfect.
He’s been like this for at least an hour, seated at your vanity trying to get his foundation to match. You have every shade imaginable but none are what he wants. And mixing them? Well—
“Fuck” Seonghwa huffs, staring at his reflection, frustration and two pale layers of foundation painted all over his face. He scans the meticulously organized desk for the makeup wipes and gets to work cleaning it off. It takes everything in him not to throw something but he manages to suppress his violent urges long enough to pick up a brush again.
Thank god he has all night to do this. You won’t be home from your trip until tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll have put everything back in its place and you’ll never know a thing. At least that’s the way things were meant to go but the unexpected glimmer of your reflection lingering by the bedroom door destroys that in an instant.
You thought it’d be sweet to surprise Seonghwa by coming home early. The event you were hired for had been canceled and you always missed each other so much. You figured it only made sense to come back home. You even stopped at his favorite takeout spot on the way from the airport to pick up dinner.
No one’s ever come close to treating you with as much love and care as Seonghwa has. Everything he does makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Just glancing down at the sparkly ring on your finger is enough to make your face light up. Any chance you have to make him feel the same way isn’t one you’re willing to pass up.
But, for the first time since you met, his face doesn’t light up at the sight of you. It darkens as if the world has ended and you can’t help but feel like you’re the one who ended it. 
“Hwa—” you sigh softly, approaching the vanity where he sits nearly catatonic. Tears collect in the corner of his deep brown eyes, his fingers beginning to shake around the makeup brush. “It’s okay” you promise, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Seonghwa pulls away from you, tearing the headphones off of his head. His dark hair hangs in his face giving him a safe place to hide from the disappointment he knows is waiting for him if he dares meet your gaze.
Only there isn’t any...
This isn’t what you expected to come home to but it’s far from a surprise for you. One of the things you always loved about Seonghwa was how comfortable he seemed to be in his own skin. While other guys saw every little thing as a threat to their masculinity, he treated femininity as something beautiful. You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve wanted to do his makeup. Those eyes. Those lips. That killer bone structure. He’s perfect for that kind of thing. You wish now more than ever that you’d said something.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t—I’m just—I’m so sorry” he mumbles, choking back tears. You outstretch your arms to wrap him in a hug but he slips away again, rushing to the closet to grab his gym bag. “Hwa, what are you doing? Can you stop for a second? Please?” you beg, following him around the room as he blindly tosses things into the bag.
You’ve never felt more invisible. Your words fall on deaf ears and each time you reach out to touch him he recoils. Seonghwa grabs his phone from the dresser, snatching free of the grip you have on the sleeve of his shirt. This is his worst nightmare. In the blink of an eye he lost everything, he’s convinced of that. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. All he can think to do is run. 
“You can’t do this!” you shout, trailing him down the hallway, “You have to talk to me!”
Seonghwa breathes in, beyond pissed off at the few tears that manage to escape. “I have to leave. I have to—to protect you.”
Hearing the pain in his voice, you nearly trip on your luggage to throw yourself in front of the door. “Is it to protect me? Or to protect yourself?”
That stops him in his tracks, his foot already halfway into a pair of sneakers. Who’s he running away for really? It’s a question that only makes the pounding in his head worse. He knows that you love him. You tell him every morning, even when you’re apart, how special he is to you. You’re begging him to stay but he can’t. He can’t. Why can’t he?
“Move please” he asks, his hand tight around the doorknob. 
You fold your arms across your chest, back pressed to the door, “No.” 
“Move…please” his voice is deeper this time, the request sounding more like a demand. 
Slipping your hands beneath the curtain of jade hair, you rest them on cheeks that burn hot enough to heat your palms. Your fingers are stained with tears and what makeup remains on his cheeks. “I love you so much” you whisper, refusing to let him get away this time, “I need you to look at me.”
You hold your breath in the silence that follows, exhaling only when his mascara smeared eyes meet yours. “I. Love. You. So. Much” you say but slower this time, putting emphasis on every word. Your heart breaks for him, for how terrified you can tell he’s been of this happening.
You raise one of your hands to show him the makeup covering it. “I don’t care about this, Hwa. I care about you.” The faint smile on your face speaks of comfort, a truly safe place for him to be if he wants it. His hand falls away from the doorknob as he lets the gym bag hit the floor with a thud.
“I would’ve told you before but I…” he pauses to summon the courage to go on, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You let out a sigh of relief at the sensation of his arms easing around your waist. He holds you so tightly that you’d swear you were the one trying to run away. 
“Oh, my love. I wish you could meet yourself so you’d know how amazing you are” you sniffle, only now noticing the trickling of your own tears. “I want to be with you—all of you—whatever that looks like.”
Seonghwa uses his hands to wipe away your tears, leaving them tinted in the light makeup you threw on before your flight. “And see, we’re twins now” you giggle, desperate to lighten the mood. Seonghwa stares at you longingly, the light gradually reigniting behind his eyes. “I love you too” he smiles, his lips brushing yours, “So much.”
He kisses you in the most innocent way and it’s like your first kiss all over again. Packed with nerves and excitement that melt away the longer you linger here. It’ll take some time to fade—the fear of being vulnerable—but it will fade and you’ll be there for it all. 
“Will you help me fix it?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with the waist of your paints, “You don’t have to but I have a picture on my phone and—” You cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything more, “Of course I’ll help you. Shower first though?” Seonghwa suddenly becomes hyper aware of the slight mess on his hands—in his hair—on both of your clothes. “I’d really like that.” 
Kissing him on the forehead, you push his hair back to get a good look at him, “We’re doing dreamy summer vibes? Something soft?” 
“How’d you know that?”
“I don’t know” you shrug, “Maybe I’m just that good. You were also going super hard on the Taylor Swift so I kinda assumed. Just blasting. I didn’t know it was that real for you.” 
“Shut up” he laughs, squeezing you so tight you can’t breathe. 
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” you giggle, trying to get away. But he won’t let you. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder, willing to tolerate being a total mess for a bit longer if it means holding you. The way that things have been...it doesn’t have to be like that now.
And it never will be again.
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1-800-kami · 13 hours
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late | satoru gojo drabble
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satoru who falls in love with you, a non-sorcerer. when you finally confess to him about how you feel, he realizes that the feeling of love is mutual.
he’s supposed to feel ecstatic, but he can’t find it in him to feel that way. instead, he feels nothing but dread.
he feels dread because before he knows it, he freezes up and rejects your confession. “i’m sorry, y/n. i just don’t feel the same way.”
god, he was such a shit-faced liar.
his words weren’t true at all. satoru has never wanted someone so badly in his life, but he knows that things’ll be better off this way. satoru knows that you’ll be safer if you don’t associate with him anymore. after all, with the rising number of curses in japan, it’ll only be a matter of time before you’ll be used as a target. and what if he can’t be there to protect you? satoru doesn’t even want to think about what could possibly happen to you then.
he thinks back to riko and frowns. he can’t let that happen again. he promised himself he’d never let something like that happen ever again.
at first, he thinks that rejecting you was the best move he had to make, all for your safety… but satoru has never felt stupider in his life.
because as the months pass by without you in his life anymore, he slowly realizes.
“…i’m the strongest alive, so why am i letting this interfere with who i want to be with? i love y/n, and i’ll kill any damn curse that even thinks of laying a hand on her. so why should i let this stop me from being with who i love?”
before he’s even realized it, he’s teleported to your place. he just needs to talk to you. he needs a few minutes to just explain everything.
except… satoru’s a few months too late.
he sees you. you’re as beautiful as ever, and you’re leaving your house… but you’re not alone. you’re with another man, and you look at him with nothing but love and adoration as you leave to go on a date with him.
that man could’ve been him.
still, satoru won’t interfere anymore. it seems that this is life’s cruel message that’s been sent to him. you’ve moved on, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it’s better for things to end like this after all.
but fuck, satoru still can’t help but feel hurt in the end.
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harrysbelovedd · 2 days
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carnival date [rafe cameron]
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pairing - rafe cameron x reader
summary - you get sick of rafe playing hard to get, so you decide to hit him where it hurts.
warnings - swearing, angst/fluff
Lights shone brightly below us, a large teddy bear sitting between us. As the ferris wheel begins to approach the boardwalk ground, I look over at JJ. I smile lovingly–hoping my acting is believable. 
“Is he looking?” I whisper through clenched teeth. 
JJ’s eyes peer down, spotting a furious Rafe standing on the ground, smoke practically fuming out of his ears. His strong arms cross over his broad chest, veins in his hands protruding out of anger as he clenches his fists.
“Oh he’s looking, and I think–correct me if I’m wrong–he is going to kill me and throw my body off the pier once we got off this fuckin’ thing.” He widens his eyes, nodding his head toward the man I’m really here for.
“Possibly,” I shrug, “Don’t worry I’ll put in a good word, you should lock your doors though.” I warn, playfully. Except just to be safe, JJ probably should triple check his locks tonight. Rafe’s jealousy is unexplainable. But that’s what he gets for thinking he can play hard to get with me.
Rafe and I have been playing this game for months, he shows his interest in me on a drunken night, then the next morning acts like I don’t exist. He knows that I know how he feels, and I’m sure he knows how I feel. Today, I grew sick and tired of him acting like a child. So, I decided to use the one sure-fire way I could get him to fess up.
Jealousy.
I don’t hang out with the pogues much, but JJ Maybank happened to owe me a favor. A couple weeks ago he snuck into Midsummers trying to find some free booze. So, when security caught him, I covered for him and told him he owed me. So, here we are. Pretending to be on a date to make Rafe jealous.
Soon enough, the ferris wheel came to a stop. JJ stood up, grabbing my hand and the teddy bear as we hopped off the ride. Rafe now stands with Topper and Kelce, pretending to be part of their conversation. But really, his eyes are purely on JJ and I. 
“Kiss me, JJ.”
His eyes widen, “Woah I-”
“Please, it’ll set him off and he’ll come over here, trust me.” I beg.
He rolls his eyes, “Alright but we’re even after this.”
He leans in, his calloused palm holding my cheek, pulling me closer. My eyes flick down to his lips and before we even have the chance to actually kiss–
“Yo, Maybank!” 
My lips curl into a smirk at his voice. Just like clockwork.
We both turn to see the brooding man walking toward us. His gaze is lethal, every other person on the boardwalk making way for Rafe Cameron. His jaw clenches, his fists balling by his sides. 
When he reaches us, he chuckles menacingly, “This is cute. I don’t give you attention so you go for the fuckin’ pogue?”
I scoff, “No, JJ just has the emotional maturity of an adult who’s able to actually understand his feelings and act on them.”
I hear JJ chuckle next to me, probably never expecting to hear the words “emotional maturity” and “JJ” in the same sentence. 
“He’s gonna treat you like shit, y’know that right? He’ll use you for what he needs then he’ll toss you aside,” He argues, turning toward JJ. “And when that happens you better watch your fuckin’ back JJ. You hurt her, I’ll kill you.” He seethes. 
I push JJ back, hopefully sending him the signal to leave before Rafe does something stupid. “And you’d do any better?” I scoff, “I see the girls you bring to Tannyhill and never fucking speak to again. I stopped wasting my time the second I realized you’d do the same to me.”
His anger stops at my words, he steps closer to me. “Do you really believe that? They weren’t you! I’ve been so terrified of hurting you I’ve been trying to protect you from myself. They were nothing.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I whisper, my fingers tugging at the hem of my top.
“Because–” He hesitates, “I’m stupid. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. And I’m just stupid.”
“You are stupid,” I chuckle. 
He smiles, his head dipping down to meet my line of sight. His fingers push my hair behind my ear, “So can I kiss you now? Your date ditched.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t a real date,” I smirk.
“Oh you’re just as jealous and fucked up as me, huh baby?”
I grin as he pulls my face toward him in his palm, smashing his lips against mine.
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WIBTA (idk if asshole is the right word or more creep idk) for keeping younger friends after high school?
Ok so I (F16) am autistic + struggle socially and my high school has like a unit to support people who are disabled or neurodivergent in some way, I spend most of my breaks and lunchtimes in the classrooms here and have been since I started here, and over that time I’ve made a lot of friends there but the issue is some of them are a few years younger than me
I’ve been friends with most of them for like 3 years now and I don’t think I specifically approached them or anything we just ended up meeting via spending time in the same place at lunch and made friends because we have similar interests/personalities, I didn’t see anything wrong with it but I’m starting to doubt that/I’ve seen people calling it weird (age gap friendships in general, not me specifically)
I have other friends outside of this group who are my age,both in school and who go to different schools, but then the group I mainly spend my lunches with is mostly people younger than me except my best friend S (f15, same year group in school though we just have like a few months apart) - started by me meeting my friend (m15, again same year just a few months) little sister let’s call her P (f14 + in the year group below me) and making pretty good friends with her and her best friend
It’s a British school so you start in y7 (age 11) and leave in y11 (age 16) so I’m leaving in a few months, friend group is me, S, P + her friend who are also in the year below me, 2 who are in year 9 and one who’s in year 8 (she’s 2010 I think and I’m 2008), let’s call her L
I know that sounds really weird and makes me sound like a creep but pretty much all of these I met when I myself was like 13 and they were 11/12, apart from L who started hanging out with P last year and sitting with us which caused me to make friends with her. For most of my time in school I haven’t seen a problem with this because they’re my friends and nothing more (I’ve been in love with someone for like 2 years now and she’s the same age as me soo) but I keep seeing like TikToks of people saying it makes you a pedo for having younger friends and i know it isn’t true but also I’m worried it’s creepy for me to have these friends even if it’s strictly platonic because idk I miss social cues a lot and I don’t know maybe having friends in a younger school year is weird
For the rest of school I’m just treating it as normal because I only have 3 months left, I’ve been friends with most of these mfs since 2021 and I’m not going to start being really distant to them now because that would be mean and they’re my friends who I care about but I feel like when I graduate it’s different and it’ll be weird for me to be friends with them as a college student when some of them will only be like year 9, we have a group chat and stuff but I feel like keeping touch with them would make me come off wrong but also cutting contact with them would be really mean
I’ve been bullied since I was in primary school I’m talking like year 3 and a lot of the people in my year group don’t like me even if I’ve basically never spoken to them (again this makes me come off wrong but it’s bc I’m “emo” aka im not emo I’m just quiet and somewhat alt and because I masked a lot less when we started hs so I was like. Harmless but weird/cringy 11 year old and even though I’ve changed a lot since then people still have that impression of me, i was also outed as bi in year 7 in a school full of homophobic people so there’s that) and so idk I feel like if people already don’t like me they’ll jump at anything to make me seem like I’m a bad person
Tl:dr I’m a 16 year old and my youngest friend is 13 but I feel like once I leave high school it’s no longer socially acceptable to have younger friends and that I’d be a creep to keep in contact, am I right That id be a creep for having young friends or am I just paranoid ?
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serevena · 3 days
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Leaving Tonight.
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Pairing - Ellie Williams x Fem!reader
a.n - hey everyone :))..I’ve really been trying to write what makes me comfortable enough to put on my blog, as well as trying not to worry if it’ll get thousands of notes. I’m just all about the vibes of my fics now..this doesn’t mean I’ll stop writing smut however, it’ll just be less frequent or have a buildup beforehand. So if you like that, don’t worry..this has been sitting in my drafts since last year and technically isn't finished but i also feel like ending it on the note it does is..evil, so it's perfect. Enjoy. <3
Warnings - Provocative language, Ellie self sabotages, potential tlou II spoilers, mentions (?) of a canon character death, mentions (?) of grief, depression, the whole nine yards, copy and pasted from the game, no comfort because I’m a monster!
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It’s like a bunch of broken picture frames but,
The smell of pumpkin spice filled the air of you and Ellie’s shared home. You both had the perfect life. Running away from your small town to live together. As one..
In another reality.
But this one, no..that was nearly impossible considering the circumstances.
The photo still remains the same.
Considering Ellie had watched someone so close to her take their last breath. At the hands of a woman she still didn’t know. At the hands of a woman she was infatuated with in every worst way possible.
And you were just standing in the way.
You tried to pretend like everything was okay. To take Ellie’s mind off of the horrors she’d been exposed to. But it was just..impossible. You knew she couldn’t forget something like that. Let alone be a happy girl. And she would never put that front on just to comfort you.
Even if she loves you.
It’s haunting me, making it harder to breathe..
The air was off. your girlfriend..was off. you could feel it the second you woke up from your nap. but how? why? why could you sense it? why was that feeling here?
you shook from the cold as the light illuminating from the only light in you and Ellie's shared room wavered, flickered from the open window. little drops of your tears of oxalate, the rain, soaking the chipped paint of your window sill. The door was open, and you called out to Ellie, wondering what she could be doing up at this hour.
I’m leavin’ tonight..
“Ellie..” you stood feet away from her, hearing rustling from her bag. The same bag she carried all of your shared memories to this house with. The same bag she’d leave this house with.
And you knew..god, you knew. You felt like you were treading on ice, making sure not to fuck up your words or else she’d been gone just like that.
Your body was warm..coldness and heat fighting within your skin. You were scared. But, frustrated.
“I have to finish it.”
She has to finish it. She has to avenge Joel no matter what.
No matter what.
I swear to God the voices wouldn't shut up.
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Beach Days
Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Reader and Gojo spend the day at the beach together along with their classmates. Fluffy, Gojo being a slight ass. Some Nanami x reader because I felt like it. (especially after season 2 of JJK)
“Pleaseeeeee, come one Y/nnnnn! It’ll be so much more fun if you go too!” Gojo practically yelled trying to convince you to go with him and a few other classmates to the beach this Saturday.
“Gojo I already told you I’m busy that day.” You told him as your eyes never the assignment you were working on.
“Look I will fucking pay you to go with me, just please tag along! You ain’t afraid of water are ya?” He teased
“Fine, I’ll go. However, you’ve got to promise not to whine when I have to leave early. I have a test that I need a lot of time to study for.” You reluctantly told him secretly happy that he asked you to go to the beach with him and your other classmates. You blushed at the thought of being able to be with them in a positive way instead of fighting curses.
“Yesss, I promise we’ll have a shit ton of fun! And don’t you worry about that test. Even if you didn’t study you’d ace that shit, but as long as you go I won’t be sad you’re leavin’ early I guess.” He said excitedly with a slight pout on his oddly perfect lips.
“Maybe you’re right, but I’m not taking any chances.” You slightly laughed finding it cute that he was pouting a little.
“Alrighty, we’re all meeting up at the front of the school and taking a school van at 11. Don’t be late sugar.” Gojo stated as he quickly left but not before giving you a wink and a big wave goodbye. You rolled your eyes at his flirting but still felt butterflies in your stomach all the same. You hated your crush on Gojo but, seriously, who could help themselves when it’s the Satoru Gojo.
The next day…
You arrived at the meeting spot five minutes before 11 just in case. Funny enough, only Nanami Kento, your classmate, was there witha borded expression on his face. You walked up to him with your beach bag in hand and wished him a good morining.
"Good morning Nanami." You spoke to him giving him a small smile
"Ah, good morning L/n, I'm guessing that Gojo's constant pestering go to you too." He said in an irked tone.
"Yes, he was quite annoying about it, but I think it'll actually be good for me to have a relaxing day at the beach with you guys. Besides when is the last time we were together that didn't include killing something." You pointed out
"True, I didn't take that into consideration. It will be nice not having those responsibilities for once." He agreed giving you a small smile.
"So where is Haibara? Isn't he normally with you?" You asked him genuenly curious where your sweetheart of a classmate is.
"He said he would meet me here at eleven due to the face that he overslept a bit. I came earlier just in case Gojo decided to be spontaneous again and leave without us." Nanami responded checking his watch.
"Makes sense you'd be here early. You're always so punctual, that's what I like about you so much!" You complimented him giving him a wide smile.
"Oh, well thank you L/n." He said quietly blushing slightly at your niceness.
"Anytime, now when will they get here?" You questioned out loud.
As if you could see the future, there walked your remaining classmates along with their beach bags. Gojo, funny enough, had a big pink flamingo floaty on his arm and you laughed slightly at the sight. As soon as he saw you he picked up the pace, giving you one of his signature goofy smiles. Geto, Shoko, and Haibara waved at you and Nanami and the two of you returned the gesture. Your attetion turned to your white haired classmate as he strolled right up to you.
"You actually came and early too!" Gojo said excitedly
"Of course I did. I decided that it would be nice to get some sun." You told him slightly blushing at his exposed abs as him, Geto, and Haibara all were shirtless except for unbuttoned shirts.
"Well good Y/n, glad you're here!" he said getting closer to your face making you blush more.
"Alright Satoru, lets get loaded up!" Geto yelled getting into the drivers seat.
Everyone got in and Nanami made his way to sit next to you only for the seat to be taken by Gojo. You gave Nanami an apologetic smile as he took a seat next to Haibara instead. Gojo started yapping on about some video game he just started playing with Geto and how he was kicking his ass in it. You heard Geto mumble how Gojo was actually losing a lot, which earned a few chuckles from you and your other classmates. Gojo pouted and looked out the window with a huff. You thought it was cute seeing his lips pucker the way they did. A few minutes passed when he finally got out of his little trantrum and gave his attention to you. He began yapping and then proceeded to ask you all kinds of questions. However, one question stuck out from the rest.
"So y/n you got a boyfriend or something?" He asked but unlike the other questions, he spoke in a serious tone.
"Um...no." You responded back slightly confused as to where this question came from.
"Hmm... okay then!" He chirped and continued yapping once more. You looked at the front of the van only to see Geto smirking at you which caused your face to feel hot and your hands slightly clammy.
"Oi Y/n! Oi Y/n! Y/nnnnn, are you paying attention?" You finally heard Gojo whine.
"Oh sorry, what were you saying?" You asked giving him an apologetic smile. This yapping continued as Geto drove everyone to the beach.
After some time later, you all arrived at your beautiful destination. Geto and Shoko were the first ones to get out of the van. You and Gojo followed and then Nanami and Haibara were the last ones. You took in the sights before you. The ocean was a magnificent deep blue and the beach was vibrant white. The sun beamed down on you making you squint despite the fact that you were wearing sunglasses.
Before you could react you saw Gojo, Geto, and Haibara all running at full speed as they raced towards the water ahead. You could hear Haibara say the sad was too hot as he finally made it to the water, coming in third place with Gojo in first. A laugh erupted from you and Shoko as you held onto each other. You then looked at Nanami who had a content smile on his face which made you even happier. Just as you were about to say something to him, Shoko grabbed your arm pulling you to the other boys that were now splashing each other aggressively.
“Come on y/n!” Shoko yelled as she pulled you. You can’t remember the last time she was so lively, but you relished in it.
“Shoko we need to put sunscreen on first.” You giggled
“Oh yeah, right.” She stopped giving you a sweet smile.
“Might as well set up a spot too I guess.” You chimed in. You looked back at Nanami who also made
“Good idea, because there is no way in hell these boys are going to do it right. Well maybe Nanami.” She spoke.
The two of you then set up a spot with towels and a few beach umbrellas. It didn’t take long as the two of you were eager to be in the water. You and Shoko then got the sunscreens out of your bags and began putting it on yourselves. What you didn’t notice was Gojo staring intently at you, as he had for nearly the whole time you and Shoko were setting up the spot.
Just then, Gojo ran up to the two of you. His whole body soaking wet from the endless splashing he did with the boys. He stood in front of you with a wide grin on his face.
“Hey, you need help putting that sunscreen on y/n? Wouldn’t want ya burning.” He asked with a playful smirk
“Sure, why not. Thank you Gojo.” You responded handing him the bottle of sunscreen.
He took it happy from your hands as he gestured for you to turn around, to which you obliged. You could hear the sound of it opening and soon enough Gojo was applying it on your back. You didn’t even realize the furious blush on your face in this moment. The feeling of his hands on your body gave you goosebumps. And a content sigh left your lips. Gojo chuckled at this as he took it upon himself to give you a small massage which made you let out another sigh.
“There that should be good.” He commented but before you could respond he bent down and began whispering in your ear. “Y/n from now on I’d be honored if you’d call me Satoru.” He whispered as his right hand was still on your lower back. You turned your head to look at him as your eyes met his. You were so close to each other and if anyone was looking at the two of you, they would assume you guys were a lovesick couple. Shoko who was next to the two of you smiled thinking how finally the two of you were finally getting somewhere.
“Thank you Satoru.” You whispered looking back in fourth between his lips and his piercing eyes.
“Anything for you.” Satoru responded getting closer.
You moved yourself closer too even though space was rather limited at this point. You could feel his breath on his face. His eyes bore into yours as you couldn’t hide the fact that you wanted him to kiss you. Satoru could tell you wanted it and just as he was about to kiss you a beach ball was launched at the two of you. Thankfully, Satoru turned on his infinity shielding the two of you from it.
“Sorry Satoru! Sorry L/N!”Yelled Geto who stood in the water.
“Dammit Suguru!” Satoru exclaimed as he ran towards Geto. As he did he made sure to turn and give you a wink before running off towards his best friend.
Satoru tackled Geto and the two of them began wrestling in the ocean. This made you roll your eyes as Shoko laughed. The rest of the day consisted of you and Shoko talking under the umbrella talking and enjoying each others company. And occasionally going to the beach and making sandcastles. The boys spent the day playing in the water and making a sand fort. Nanami and Haibara took a walk down the beach with Haibara talking Nanami’s ear off, not that he minded. All of you enjoyed your time so much that when it was finally sunset, it had felt like the day had passed quickly.
“We should probably get going soon.” Shoko groaned.
“Yeah, or else Yaga is gonna be on our ass for being late.” You sighed dreading going back to school.
“Ha, not you with your perfect grades and all.” She teased putting away her beach stuff.
“Oh hush.” Responded.
As you and everyone else were putting away your stuff, you noticed Satoru missing from the bunch. You looked around only to see him standing in the ocean looking like he was staring off into the distance. He looked sad, almost melancholy. Your heat skipped a beat and before your brain had any say, you walked up to him. You then stood next to him looking up at his expression. He still hadn’t turned to you but you soon felt his hand grasp yours. You let this happen wanting to feel his warm hand on yours too. You both enjoyed the warm and comfortable sounds of the ocean with the waves crashing softly against your knees.
After a little while, he turned his head in your direction as a small smile appeared on his face. He couldn’t help but look at you. To him you were simply beautiful and someone he looked up to. You were strong, brave, and kind. However, you never boasted your power like he did. Instead you were humble about it and always congratulated others on their achievements without even a drop of envy. You were someone he dared admit that he really liked. And he was so glad that you agreed to come here on this beach trip with him. He then sighed gathering enough courage within him to ask you something that had been plaguing his mind for months.
“Y/n..” he dragged out feeling nervous
“Yes Satoru?” You asked with sweetness lacing your voice. This made his insides turn to mush.
“I’m sorry if this is forward, but would you like to date me?” He asked feeling relieved that he finally got those words out. You paused for a second taking in the question he asked as your chest filled with a warmth that only he seemed to ignite within you.
“Yes.” You replied simply. As you turned your head to him squeezing his hand softly as you did so. You then smiled at him giving him a loving gaze that made him give you one back. “What took you so long?” You teased to which he rolled his eyes playfully.
“To be honest, you make me nervous. You’re strong and your confident. And that’s super sexy.” He teased back wiggling his eyebrows
“Oh shut up.” You replied
“Oi, lovebirds we gotta go!” Yelled Geto from a distance.
“Shit.” You both muttered at the same time.
You both the began walking hand in hand back to the van. However, with a sudden burst of confidence, you swiftly turned around wrapping your arms around Satoru’s neck. His expression was a mixture of excitement and shock. You then pressed your lips against his, piling him closer to you. Satoru wrapped his arms around your body pulling you closer too as he reciprocated the kiss adding even more passion. His lips were addicting to say the least abc you wished that you had more time to savor him. Satoru felt the same as he brought one of his hand ups to your face caressing it slowly. You then broke the kiss feeling hot from the feeling of being that connected with him.
“Are you okay?” He whispered being his other hand up to your face as he held it gently.
“Yeah, are you?” You asked putting your hands on his giving him a content smile.
“I’m absolutely perfect.” He replied
“We should be getting back not.” You said reluctantly
“Yeah, don’t want Yaga getting on our asses for being late.” Satoru said as he took your hand once again as the two of you even waking. You already missed the feeling of his large hands on your cheeks.
“True that.” You replied giving his hand a squeeze.
“I’m glad you came with us today.” He said happily.
“Me too.” You replied.
“Fucking finally.” Geto and Shoko said in unison as you and Satoru sat together in the van. A furious blush gracing both of your cheeks.
“Agreed.” Nanami sighed behind you.
“Happy for you guys.” Haibara chimed in being positive as usual.
“Thank you.” You replied to him putting your head in Satoru’s shoulder.
The drive back was peaceful and filled with hope. Despite your lives, you and Satoru were content knowing that despite the shit that you would both experience, you would have each other. As the future for you both you be tough but in the end happy…or was it?
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Thank you so much for reading!💜
Please feel free to request, comment, like, and reblog
Click here to see what I’ll write for and click HERE for my master list.
•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•
-L.W.L
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fuck-customers · 2 days
Note
I wish I was able to stay as calm and collected as some people in customer service, but I can’t, the job overwhelms me and has made me a very private person. I find myself getting upset and pissed at my family and friends sometimes because they’ll remind of certain customers. I really thought maybe I just wasn’t mature enough and I just needed more experience, but it’s been over 5 years now and I still feel the same way I did when I first started, if not worse. I’m starting to think it’ll never get easy for me because I’m just not cut out for this job. But I’m also not sure what I want to do either. Truthfully, I wish I didn’t have to work. Not because I’m lazy but because I wish I had a choice in it. I hate that I’m forced to work every day to survive and not get to enjoy my life. I hate the way people treat me like trash and I’m suppose to just take it because I’m in customer service.
Posted by admin Rodney.
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acaaai-t · 20 hours
Text
3 months and counting
[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk
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The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.
Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.
The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.
Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.
How long has it been? He wonders.
Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.
Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.
He misses you.
On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.
For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.
It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.
The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.
The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.
“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.
What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.
Gone… all gone, far too soon.
“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.
Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”
You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”
“Hey,” he whined.
You beamed up at him. “I love you.”
How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.
“I love you too.”
God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?
It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.
He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.
Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.
The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.
3 months.
It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.
Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.
Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”
“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”
He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.
Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”
Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.
The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”
There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.
“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”
Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.
He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.
“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.
Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.
Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.
His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.
“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.
There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.
He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.
Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.
He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.
The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.
Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.
The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.
Then it all went dark.
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✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— this was fun to write
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© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate
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afewfantasies · 3 days
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🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter IV
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Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Misc references & details
Summary:  Lorena gets her first visitor at The Retreat, her sister Felicia who has absolutely no tact. Both Lorena and Gale are confronted with uncomfortable truths. Gale is confronted with the feelings he's been trying to suppress for Lorena - his unlikely visitor and companion.
Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)
Warnings:  None
Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love
Word Count: 2.2
PART IV - SISTER SISTER
It took everything in Gale to keep from smiling at the nerves coming from Lorena. He’d never seen a more nervous wreck of a woman, a ball of nerves and excitement. She had spend two hours on her hair and had Rose press out her clothing perfectly. He didn’t know how she wasn’t working up a sweat pacing in her heels awaiting the train.
“Lorena take it easy” he says with a hand on her shoulder eliciting looks from onlookers. She looks up at him settling at his side.
“Stop laughing at me” she mutters.
“I’m not laughing” Gale smiles.
“You are its in your eyes” she mutters and he breaks his composure for a moment chuckling.
“She’ll be here, and she’ll be happy to see you. It’ll all be fine” Gale says hopefully.
“That’s not what I’m worried about, what if daddy is on the train with her and he hauls me away?” Lorena asks.
“If your father gets off that train you let me know and we’ll make a run for it.” Gale says no longer smiling.
“Major Gale Cleven running, there’s a thought…” Lorena teases.
“You love your father, its the only option” he says as the roaring of the train and sounding of horn get closer. “It’s alright” he whispers down at your head standing in front of you slightly. You both wait near first class and very few folks exit the train. Felicia exits the train as the fifth person, she has a bag in each hand and there’s an attendant holding two more as she looks around in search of her younger sister.
“That’s her” Lorena squeaks running over to her sister she takes her into her arms both women jumping excitedly. Gale gets a trolley putting the four bags onto it and allowing the women to reacquaint themselves. It had been nearly a year now since the sisters had been together. 
“Lolo you do know how to run!” Felicia smiles looking over her baby sister. 
“I do” Lo affirms smiling as she takes her sisters hand. They turn to find Gale watching them. They shared little resemblance but enough. Gale can see the similarities in them, their mannerisms and smiles.
“Well, how do yo do?” Felicia says looking him over. “No wonder you like it out here” Felicia comments.
“This is Gale” Lo laughs at her sisters cantor. 
“Nice to meet you” Gale blushes a little take a back by the forward sister.
“You made him sound like an old man” Felicia fails to whisper.
“Shut up why don’t you, and lets get on the road, we won’t be home until late” Lorena snaps embarrassed by her sisters mouth.
“Why? Are we’re far away?” Fefe asks Lorena who responds with a wink.
“May I put these in the back?” Gale asks motioning to the suitcases.
“Sure and it’s Felicia Clarence, I promise our mother taught Lorena manners she’s just so pretty she’s never needed to use them” Felicia smiles. Lorena scoffs at the irony of Felicia’s so called manners.
“Gale Cleven” he smiles shaking her hand. Both ladies sit up front in the truck leaving Gale without his usual person of space between him and Lorena.
“So how are mom and dad?” Lorena asks to fill some of the silence.
“Same as always, waiting for you to come back home” Felicia says honestly. Gale grips the wheel at the jarring reality.
“I keep telling them I won’t be home for awhile” Lorena reminds feeling claustrophobic.
“So this arrangement isn’t forever?” Felicia asks suspiciously sitting forward to point between her sister and the handsome stranger that was now both her landlord and employer.
“Lorena can stay as long as she’d like” Gale responds. Lorena notes there was o hesitation and raises a brow at her sister.
In not one of the letters had Lorena mentioned his fashion good looks to Felicia, not once had she described his physicality. He was dreamier than Felicia could have ever imagined, younger too. The Gale in the letters was an old man, chaste and probably well past his prime free of vice and with a bucketful of old man hobbies. Gale in person was something totally different.
“Middle of nowhere to let all that pretty and party planning expertise to go to waste�� Felicia tuts shaking her head. “What happened to us having large estates across the street from each other filled with the finest china and a distinguished guest list?” Felicia asks.
“Felicia, I’m not like you I can’t just show my face anyways and pretend like the whispering doesn’t get to me when it does. I don’t need anyones pity either, I don’t need sharks circling I don’t need the drama of courtship and planing another wedding. I just need peace.” Lorena sighs being transparent with her sister.
“Whoa, you two really aren’t sleeping together” Felicia says shocked. Lorena and Gale both show healthy blushes, embarrassment burns their cheeks as Felicia says the quiet parts aloud.
“Fe!” Lorena grits.
“Sorry, I mean look at him but mama and daddy raised us with enough sense we wouldn’t morn one relationship while sitting with a man were in another with” Felicia says dismissively.
“Gale I told you she talks too much and she has no decorum. Please forgive her.” Lorena says embarrassed. Nodding he forces back a smile. He’d never seen Lorena embarrassed before.
“My apologies Gale, I’m just trying to figure out my sister. This is the biggest shock to all of us. If you knew where and how we grew up you’d understand my concern” Felicia reasons.
“I understand” Gale mutters.
“Do you?” Felicia pries looking at him. “Do you have siblings?”
“Only child” he responds keeping his eyes on the road.
“That must’ve been boring” she continues with her inquisition. 
“It was alright” Gale shrugs.
“Well, we have a brother and then each other and that kept life interesting” Felicia shares. Gale turns looking at Lorena, she had never spoke about her brother in the past five months, not once, nor did she send him a letter.
“You have a brother?” Gale asks Lorena.
“Well we’re not close” she responds.
“They’re feuding because Kevin had an affair on his wife” Felicia discloses.
“It’s a dishonourable thing to do to your pregnant wife” Lorena mutters.
“He’s family, she’s not - he’s on your side you know. He’s scorned reggie from all social events he controls” Felicia says trying to mend fences.
“Hypocritical don’t you think?” Lorena chuffs still feeling the sting of her ex-husbands indiscretion.
“Him and Maria are doing better than ever. You going MIA scared him straight. You would be proud of him the kids are familiar with him, he’s been home and Maria is happy” Felicia adds but unlike both of Lorena’s siblings her marriage had been full of love and passion. It was alive and well, it was what Lorena wanted, she’d never had the luck of lukewarm love. If her marriage had been that perhaps it would have hurt less.
“Good for them” Lorena mutters trying to hide her smugness from Gale.
“You bitch” Felicia laughs shaking her head at her sister. Gale’s eyes grow in size as Lorena withholds a smile. “You’re pissed at Kev but you write Reggie” Felicia says taking it too far.
“Don’t go there Fe” Lorena warns sharply, Gale watches as the older raises her hands in surrender. Their dynamic is clear to him. Felicia has fashioned herself the antagonist, she’s the digger that’s relentless and doesn’t stop until she’s unearthed the truth. He watches Lorena read Felicia her rights at the gas station and the rest of the ride back is a lot more quiet with Lorena in a sour mood. He wonders if it was a bad idea on his end but only time can tell for sure.
…..
Gale straightens excited to see Lorena after last night, she’d gone up earlier than usual with her sister and he hadn’t wanted to intrude with a cool night. Felicia emerges in the doorway with a smile.
“Good morning” she smiles.
“Good morning, Rose brought by breakfast” he stands.
“Sit, its fine I can serve myself” Felicia smiles fixing herself a plate. Gale finds himself a little uneasy in her presence. “Relax, men show their tail after a month, it’s been about six since she’s been here you're a good man” Felicia says frankly. She’d decided that during the long ride into the Retreat.  Lorena was herself and not a shell of who she had been, Felicia could see her sisters ease around Gale, anyone could see she was well in spite of the heartbreak. 
“Thank you” Gale breathes relieved. Felicia’s personality was a kin to a bloodhound unable to let things go.
“She never had a real shot, she’s been spoiled rotten her whole life. Never had to fight for anything so um, she runs when she should be home giving Reggie hell for his betrayal” Felicia comments buttering her bread. 
“Hell will find him when he realizes what he’s lost” Gale comments but Felicia scoffs.
“No, no Gale she’s not angry. If Reggie and that hussy run their course and his sorry ass comes back begging she’ll take him back. She’s still happy he’s alive. She is my sister but that girl is a special kind of crazy” Felicia says candidly. Gale sits back having lost his appetite at that thought.
“You think so?” He asks feeling bitterness.
“I know men, and I know my sister, that girl can’t hold a candle to her. Reggie still sends her money, people talk and the divorce was the girls doing. My brothers been doing a great job at blacklisting the vain bastard and absence only makes the heart grow fonder.” Felicia says talking like a man. Her words make sense to Gale, worse they scare him. 
“But your folks won’t let that happen, he’s a coward and he humiliated her. She’s only just stopped crying whenever letters come” Gale shares.
“My folks miss their Lorena. They’d rather her up the block then on the other side of the country” Felicia shrugs. Its the opposite of what Gale wants to hear.
“What do you think?” Gale asks Felicia curiously.
“I think Lorena and Reggie were puppy love. I think he’s a scoundrel and doesn’t deserve to breathe her air. He doesn’t appreciate her or value her, there’s an absence or respect. Lorena deserves better” Felicia speaks frankly.
“I agree” Gale nods.
“Major Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven, I did a lot of research. Found out you're a great man, leader of men. You survived a prison camp in Germany and managed an escape during the coldest winter in 100 years.” Felicia says shocking him.
“You're right” he nods attention piqued.
“So fight for her” Felicia says silencing everything around him. The assertive strength in her eyes dissolves into something more soft hearted. “I know you love her Gale and she thinks the world of you. It’s an odd pairing and a peculiar circumstance but I can think of no other reason for her to be all the way here if it weren’t written in the stars” Felicia shrugs. Footsteps sound above them and Lorena emerges from upstairs. Swallowing her heart races at the sight of her sister and Gale who’s white as a ghost.
“What’d she say?’ Lorena asks unnerved placing a hand against Gales clammy forehead.
“I asked him if it’s common to go skinny dipping in the lake?” Felicia lies.
“Swimming naked?” Lorena questions her sister who smiles jostling her brows.
“Gale I’m sorry, her and Clarence her husband are progressive and he encourages this sort of thing. We’re all used to it” Lorena apologizes and Gale has time to recover.
“It’s alright Lorena, no skinny dipping in this spot. You want to do that near running water but it’s not safe now. You ladies don’t shoot and so one of the guys would have to keep watch and uh … no” Gale says turning a little red at the thought. Felicia laughs and Lorena casts an amused yet annoyed look at her sister placing her hand on Gales shoulder.
“He’ll ever invite you back” she scoffs.
“If she weren’t married I’d make an introduction with Bucky” Gale stands taking Lorena’s hand. He smiles holding her gaze until she smiles back and then he nods.
“I’ll be with the horses if you need me” Gale says bidding her a goodbye.
So fight for her. Felicia’s words dance around in his mind as he heads outside mounting his horse. It repeats on a loop. He would in every circumstance that Lorena needed, it wasn’t a second thought. Therein lied the issue. He’d never given specific thought to him and Lorena long enough. He was always rushing those thoughts out of his head. Marge had been sure he was no longer worth it. Yet, Felicia seemed to be convinced otherwise.
Hearing a scream Gale looks over to find Felicia in a puddle ad Lorena laughing hysterically. Finding his smile in hers Gale considered the unthinkable. In his heart, he’s willing to fight. In his heart he hopes Lorena feels the same.
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faetreides · 6 hours
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Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like
r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes
cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation
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Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.
This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)
You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.
Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.
Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)
He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.
A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.
You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.
Your phone chimes again.
Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️
You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).
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Chapter 35 of Come Away, O Human Child be cookin', yo.
“It’s just bullsh—uh, crap!” Buck says, catching himself at the last moment and flashing a guilty look at the kitchen table, where Chris is doing his homework. Fortunately, he seems too caught up in his science vocabulary sheet to have noticed Buck’s slip. He turns back to the chopping board, attacking the green onions with a little more force than necessary.
Eddie—relegated to handing Buck each vegetable as he requests them for the stir-fry Christopher wanted for dinner, and seemingly perfectly happy with his level of involvement in the prep—sighs and shakes his head. He pulls a pepper out of the crisper drawer when Buck finishes with the onions. “It is, but there’s not much we can do about it. It’s—I’m not happy about it, but that’s a pretty major thing to just…not disclose,” he says, frowning to himself.
Buck takes the pepper and slices it with more speed than skill, his movements quick and angry. “It’s not fair!” he insists. “Bobby’s…Bobby’s a great captain! His—” He sucks in a breath and lowers his voice with another glance at Chris. “His whole family died,” he hisses. “He doesn’t deserve to be punished for not wanting to talk about it!”
“Buck,” Eddie says. “You know it’s not just that he didn’t tell the brass about his family.”
Buck tenses, his magic sparking inside him like a livewire. Outside the window over the sink, some of the neighborhood wisps zip through the air, those in close enough proximity to him seeming to respond to his agitation. “It’s not fair,” he repeats mulishly.
“It’s not,” Eddie agrees. “But the brass is in a tough spot, too. Bobby…” he sighs again. “Bobby lied. Maybe it was a lie of omission, but it was still a lie.”
“He was cleared! I know you looked up the report the same way I did. The fire suppression wards in that building were a joke! The Lesser Fae and Small Creatures union sued the company that built it into the ground! I mean—I mean, that place was a timebomb waiting to go off.”
“And Bobby lit the fuse,” Eddie says quietly, reluctantly. “Look…I trust Bobby with my life. I’d trust him with Chris’s life. Even—even at his worst, I know he’d never have deliberately hurt anyone. But there’s no way the chief can just ignore this, Buck.” He pulls out a couple of carrots from the fridge and holds them out like a peace offering.
Buck clenches his teeth as he chops them, breathing through his nose as his magic continues to roil like storm-tossed ocean waves inside him. He clamps down on it tightly, staring out the window at the cloud of wisps darting through the night air. He glances over at Eddie’s reflection in the glass to find his partner staring at him with narrowed eyes.
“Hey mijo, why don’t you finish that up after dinner?” Eddie says suddenly. Chris looks up from his homework, confused. “You can go watch TV until it’s time to set the table, okay?”
Chris narrows his eyes in a suspicious expression that looks startlingly like Eddie’s, but the lure of extra cartoons is too much to resist. He snaps his workbook closed and scurries out of his seat, his crutches helpfully hopping over from where they’re leaning against the wall when he snaps his fingers with a burst of spring-green light. Buck makes a mental note to redo the charms on them before he leaves tonight. The enchantments don’t really need reinforcement, yet, but it’ll help him burn off some of the twisting, coiling energy snapping through his body like lightning.
As soon as Christopher is out of earshot, Eddie turns to face him fully, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s going on with you?” he says simply.
You want that alphabetically, or by order of importance? he thinks bitterly, biting back the laugh that wants to bubble out of him, certain that it would come out more than a little hysterical. Instead, he shakes his head, finally dumping all the chopped vegetables into a bowl together and moving on to the package of thawed chicken breasts sitting in the sink. “Nothing,” he says, wincing when it comes out sharper than he intended it to. Eddie raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Look, I get that this is stressful, but you can’t let it get to you like this.”
“It’s not getting to me,” he insists.
“Dad, come look at all the wisps outside!” Chris cries an instant later. “They’re right up against the windows!”
Eddie tilts his head and levels another look at Buck. “You smell like a lightning storm rolling in, man.”
Buck swallows hard, making a greater effort to calm the magic that wants to leap to his fingertips, fly out of him in all directions. He’s not in danger of losing control—he never is, no matter how much emotional turmoil he experiences—but he’s throwing out more ambient magic than usual. Hence the light show apparently going on outside the living room windows. He takes a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, then started slicing the chicken into strips, trying to calm himself with the familiar rhythm of cooking. Eddie leans against the counter next to him, not saying anything.
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invaderarizona · 2 days
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Trolls and Smurfs movies comparison (plus with other movies on the side)
- In the first movie, it was basically more like the same old plot as the rest of the Smurfs episodes. All about nothing but villains capturing them with cages, planning to eat and the main heroes just go after to save them. But unlike the Smurfs, Trolls own Gargamel is a one time character and will never come back after being eaten alive. But also with Bridget’s subplot being mostly likely a Cinderella story.
- In the second movie, it was kinda like Smurfs Lost Village with the whole plot of founding out that they're other kinds of their race. The male Smurfs and Smurfette found out that their other Smurfs who are girls but with no backstories of why they're separated whatsoever. While Poppy found that there are other kinds of trolls but with different taste of music outside of pop (their main kind). But unlike the Smurfs, they do have a backstory of why these trolls tribes are separated for. Plus Barb's villain plot was more likely Thanos's plot from the Infinity War.
- In the third movie, it was kinda like both of half of The Smurfs 2 and Lost Village again plus with Uglydolls.
For The Smurfs 2, both involved dealing with families issues, the main female protagonists gets sisters of their own and the main villains stealing the creatures essences along with another rescue mission and have villainous twins. Except in The Smurfs 2, they handle it pretty poorly done since Patrick and his stepfather are the poor man version of Branch and John Dory (if they were actual father and son) and Vexy and Hackus are the lamer villain version of Velvet and Veneer (if their beta Bergen designs were kept in the officials) but while Smurfette and Vexy are kinda like the original Poppy and Viva (which both of their dynamics are alright and equally the same to me).
It’s also like Lost Village again where they discovered that there is another lost village of Trolls but this time actual lost Pop trolls living in a golf course with another backstory that made King Peppy look even worse than World Tour. Finally it’s also like Uglydolls where the main villains are the pretty dolls and the main heroes are the cute little creatures likes based off on ugly creatures and both movies are just based off on toys.
As for Trolls 4, if I get my prediction right for the Smurfs comparison. I say it would either be like “Dances with the Smurfs” (from a South Park episode) where it’s a Veneer redemption arc and Velvet’s revenge arc. Even though that episode was mainly an Avatar parody. Or in case, it’ll just be more like of whatever the next Smurfs movie plot gonna be like in 2025 (since I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just another payback on the Smurfs again after the rivalry between World Tour and Lost Village and because of James Cordon).
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sarahowritesostucky · 11 hours
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📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"
Rated: Explicit
Word Count: 7893
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes
Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)
A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!
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Breeding the Winter Soldier
“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”
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Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”
And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?
His mate is going to be so confused.
Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”
“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”
Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”
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“Captain. Hail Hydra.”
Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.
“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.
“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”
Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.
“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.
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They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”
“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.
“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”
Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”
“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.
Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”
“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”
Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.
Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”
Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”
“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”
“What are you talking about?”
Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”
“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”
“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”
Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”
Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”
Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.
But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”
Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”
“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”
“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”
Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”
Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”
“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”
Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”
“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.
“Fuck you!” Steve spits.
Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.
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The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.
Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.
The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.
They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”
The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.
“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”
The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.
“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”
The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”
“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”
The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”
Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”
“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”
But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”
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Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.
He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.
That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.
In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.
“Rogers.”
Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”
Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.
Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”
Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”
Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”
Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”
Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”
“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”
“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.
Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”
Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.
“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”
Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”
Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”
“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”
“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”
Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”
Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.
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James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.
James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.
“… Bucky—”
“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:
“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”
In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.
“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.
James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”
“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”
James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”
Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”
“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”
Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…
“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”
James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”
Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”
James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.
His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.
The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.
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Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”
Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.
Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.
Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”
Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”
“Yes.”
Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”
Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”
Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.
He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.
“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”
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James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”
That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”
James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”
He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.
But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”
Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.
Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.
“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”
James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.
It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.
James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”
Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.
“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”
James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”
Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.
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“Why do you torture yourself like this?”
Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.
“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”
Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”
“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”
“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”
“No?”
“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”
“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”
“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.
Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”
Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.
“You think it’ll take?”
“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.
Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”
Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.
Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”
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claireelizabeth85 · 2 days
Text
Come Home To Me - Chapter 6
John Egan x OC Female!Reader
Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.
Warning: angst
AN: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.
All previous chapters can be found here
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Lizzy's hands shook slightly as she clutched her coffee cup, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. Sitting outside the pub in the early morning quiet, she felt every rustle of the wind and distant murmur stir up echoes of her past life. Around her, the village was waking up; shadows stretched across the cobblestones, morphing into haunting memories she couldn’t escape. Each sound, rather than soothing, seemed to whisper back stories she wished she could forget. Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she exhaled a cloud of smoke and tried to push away the ghosts that lingered a little too close. Stubbing out her smoke, she made her way indoors, taking a seat opposite Sarah as they settled down to eat. 
“I want to go home, Sarah. I can't stand being haunted by these memories anymore,” Lizzy muttered, her voice a fragile thread amidst the clatter of morning utensils.
Sarah leaned in, her eyes burning with a mix of concern and determination. “What? Are you sure? We’re on the brink of understanding why these memories are resurfacing now.”
Lizzy’s weary eyes met Sarah's. “What does it matter? It’s all past, isn’t it?”
“It’s never just the past with us, Lizzy. Remember your flight to Berlin in February ’45?” Sarah’s voice steadied, heavy with implication. She leaned in closer, her tone conveying the weight of her findings. “I've been digging through the archives, and I found the weather reports prepared on the day of your mission. They noted an unusual cloud bank, described in terms stupidly similar to other incidents years later."
She paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. “But it’s not just the weather reports—there’s more. I've also gone through the after-action reports from the crews who made it back. They spoke of disorientations and malfunctions that seemed to centre around that same cloud bank. It's been mentioned repeatedly, across decades, in different contexts. This isn’t just regular weather; it’s something else, something anomalous.”
Sarah pulled out a folder, stuffed with copies of the documents, and spread them out on the table. “These aren’t coincidences, Lizzy. There’s a pattern here that we can’t ignore. This cloud didn’t just appear in 1945—it’s been a recurring anomaly, linked with multiple unexplained phenomena and disappearances. And I think it’s linked to your memories.”
Lizzy’s fork hovered in mid-air, her appetite lost. “You think a cloud formation is the reason I’m reliving this….nightmare?” Sarah sighed exasperated. “It’s a theory, yes.” 
Reluctantly, Lizzy glanced at the documents strewn across the table.  They seemed to pulse with a foreboding energy, each page a reminder of her last moments in the skies over Berlin. “And you believe diving back into that” she pointed at the weather report with her fork, “will change what’s already done?”
“Yes,” Sarah countered sharply, her voice slicing through the quiet. “Because I can’t stand to see my best friend dissolve into shadows and whiskey. Maybe, just maybe, confronting this can bring you peace. I don’t know, maybe it’ll take you back to John.”
Lizzy's emotions flickered across her face—hope warring with fear. Before she could formulate a response, Sarah’s focus shifted abruptly to the entrance of the bar where Abigail had just entered followed by a man that was not her husband. 
Rising abruptly, Sarah’s chair scraped back loudly against the floor. She approached the couple with a determined stride, her tone polite yet firm. Abigail, who Sarah had seen the day before at the museum, was now accompanied by a different man. He was tall with dark hair, cut into a neat, short back and sides but with enough length on top to style it.  Sarah could hear their conversation and given his tone, the man was unimpressed. 
“You’ve dragged me halfway across the world, to the middle of nowhere, on the word of an old lady. And for what? A pub breakfast?” Abigail frowned, equally unimpressed by his complaining. “If Nana believed her, then we should too. She wouldn’t send us on a wild goose chase without a reason. There’s more at stake here than you realise.”
Sarah coughed lightly to gain their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began, holding up the photograph that had unexpectedly altered the course of her investigation. “I know you mentioned yesterday that your identity wasn’t of concern, but I need to understand who you are and where you got this photograph from.”
The tall, dark-haired man took the photograph with a furrowed brow. His initial confusion soon gave way to irritation. “Abigail, what the hell are you playing at?” His voice was tinged with frustration.  Beside him, Abigail remained calm, her expression serene yet confident. She glanced at Sarah, her smile faint but reassuring.  “Like I said, I believed her. There are bigger things at stake, one of them is that photograph.”
Sarah’s own confusion mounted. “So, you recognise the picture? Can you tell me when it was taken?” The man who had not been introduced looked over it and then looked back at Sarah. He shot a look of surprise at his sister before exhaling sharply. “Holy shit,” he muttered, the realisation hitting him. “I hate to admit it, but you were right, Abby.”
As he spoke, Abigail’s gaze was drawn to the table where Lizzy’s distant figure sat hunched over her plate, the man following her gaze. “Is that?” Abigail held his arm “Don’t say anything. She can’t know we’re here. She mustn’t know about us.”
He sighed, the fight going out of him as he stood still, the photograph in his hand. He glanced at it once more, a mixture of awe and resignation washing over him. “Alright, Abby. Let’s see where this goes. But if you’re wrong, you owe me more than just breakfast.”
Abigail nodded, her smile returning as she looked back at Sarah. “We’re here to help, however we can. What do you need to know?”
Sarah turned back to face the woman, her voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Why can't Lizzy know about you? What are you to her, and why this secrecy?"
The man accompanying Abigail, now clearly annoyed by the complexity of the situation, threw up his hands. "You have the answers, you explain it. I'm off to get some breakfast." He walked away, leaving the women to their tense exchange.
Abigail motioned for Sarah to sit back down, her expression solemn but with a hint of an authoritative tone. "Ignore him; he’s my older brother and he's always reminding me when I’ve overstepped. But he’s right about one thing—I did start this.” She gestured between herself and Sarah, linking them in the unfolding mystery. “And you're right, you know. You're on the right track."
She paused, her gaze intense and searching. "The key to all of this is Lizzy. She needs to fly again. That's the only way we can begin to untangle this mess."
Sarah scoffed, her scepticism evident. "And how do you propose we manage that? It’s not exactly easy to just hop into a B-17 these days."
Without missing a beat, Abigail slid a flyer across the table from her bag. "I can’t divulge too much about who I am—only that I’m…family. Someone very wise instructed me to come here at this precise moment, hand you that photograph, and ensure that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past."
As Sarah examined the flyer—a promotional piece for an upcoming air show featuring a fully operational B-17—her mind raced. The plan was audacious, bordering on the insane, yet the urgency in Abigail's voice made it impossible to dismiss outright.
Abigail tapped the photo gently, her voice lowering to a near whisper, compelling and earnest. "And it’s not just Lizzy who needs to fly; you need to be there with her. This is about closing a loop, about healing wounds you both don't fully understand yet."
The enormity of the task weighed heavily on Sarah as she picked up the flyer. Just then, the man returned from the bar, his meal in tow, breaking the intensity of their discussion. As he sat, Sarah stood, clutching the photo and the flyer.
"One last question— who took this photograph?" she asked, needing some tangible connection to anchor the surreal task ahead.
Abigail's face softened, her eyes shimmering with a blend of pride and deep personal connection. "My maternal grandfather. He was there, right in the midst of it all, just like you are now."
With that connection made, Sarah felt a shift in her perspective. This was no longer just about diving into history or helping her best friend—it was personal. It linked them to a family story that spanned generations, wrapping Lizzy and her into a narrative bigger than they had imagined. She looked over at Lizzy, determination setting in. They had a plane to catch, and some history of their own to make.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
Sarah and Lizzy were in the museum office, enveloped by the soft murmur of activity as Fred sorted through what they dubbed "donations" from Abigail, organising them into meticulously arranged piles. Despite the normalcy of the scene, Sarah’s mind was elsewhere, wrestling with information she wasn’t yet ready to share. With a casual air that belied her internal tension, she glanced over at Geoff and Fred.
"You wouldn’t happen to know who owns the bomber featured at this weekend’s air show, would you? Any chance we could get Lizzy on board?" she asked, her voice casual but tinged with an undercurrent of urgency.
Geoff and Fred exchanged a look of uncertainty. "We might be able to pull some strings," Fred replied, scratching his head thoughtfully.
"Could those strings possibly extend to Liz flying it?" Sarah probed further, the urgency now barely masked by her nonchalant stance.
The room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of concerns. Lizzy, typically more outspoken, only managed a half-hearted jest, "I haven’t flown in years!" Geoff, more grounded, pointed out, "She's been nearly drunk nonstop for a week; she'd need to sober up first." Fred, ever the sceptic, added, "Plus, her pilot’s licence isn’t even current."
Sarah raised her hands, silencing the room with a firm gesture. "This is about more than just licences or sobriety. Lizzy and I need to be on that plane, and we need to fly it to Germany. It’s our only shot at making things right."
Lizzy laughed, more out of disbelief than amusement. "You want to steal a B-17?"
Sarah's composure momentarily faltered, and she let loose a passionate outburst. "I’ve been buried in archives for days, uncovering everything about this damn bomb group and the hell they went through—the very hell you lived through! I can’t—and won’t—stand by and watch you disintegrate under the weight of haunting memories and a lost love so profound I can literally see it breaking your heart." Her voice softened as her eyes locked with Lizzy’s. "Getting on that plane might be our only chance to end these nightmares."
Lizzy’s scepticism, however, remained steadfast. "And what happens when we hit that cloud bank over Berlin? We just dive right into the middle of a war and hope for the best? I tried that once, remember? Look where it got me."
Sarah’s eyes hardened with resolve, her tone steely. "No more self-pity, Lizzy. And no more whiskey. You're going to get sober whether you like it or not, and you're getting ready to fly. Lieutenant,” she used Lizzy’s rank to underscore her point, causing Lizzy to straighten her posture, “you need to clean yourself up. Check if your flying overalls still fit and remember how to do your hair up properly because you’re going to look the part, even if I have to dress you myself. Understood?"
Lizzy put her glass down, mumbling a resigned “Yes, ma’am,” acknowledging Sarah’s uncompromising stance.
"The nightmares those men endured now plague me too," Sarah continued, her voice unwavering. "And I’ll be damned if we don’t at least try to see if flying through that cloud again can put an end to all this."
Turning back to Geoff and Fred with a determined yet composed look, Sarah requested, "Please, make the call. Let's see if we can list her as a pilot. I'm really counting on this to help her." She paused, her tone softening further, "And could we find a flying jacket that fits? you know how pilots are about the cold.”
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