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w1ldthoughts · 4 months

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Crooked Smile

Anon requested angst

Warnings: Mention of body image issues

The veneer craze. The ozempic epidemic. This intense and overwhelming need to have a perfect smile and be super skinny, while also having an hourglass figure and a perfectly perky yet fat ass. Thanks to the BBL. You had absolutely no problem with people getting cosmetic surgeries, your body your choice, and you weren’t going to judge anyone for wanting to make themselves feel good. But it did contribute to very unhealthy beauty standards that were becoming more impossible to follow. It really didn’t help that your boyfriend was a celebrity and every function that you went to was full of women who made you feel a little (a lot) like you didn’t belong.

After the last time at Jack’s you couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked. Every time you walked past a mirror you stopped to look at yourself for a minute. Maybe you could lose a few pounds and have less midnight snacks. Maybe some Invisalign wouldn’t hurt, you knew it would but with the way you were feeling about yourself right now, you’d take the tooth pain over this crippling bout of insecurity and self doubt. You probably hadn’t analyzed yourself this much since you were in high school. This feeling wouldn’t last forever, you knew that, but sometimes you just gotta throw yourself a pity party and recharge your batteries. You were supposed to have a date night with Jack but you lied and told him you were sick and that you’d see him another time.

You knew immediately who was knocking on your door and interrupting your This Is Us rewatch, using it to distract from your own turmoil. Like fighting fire with…more fire. Using your sleeve to wipe your eyes, you sniffled and paused the devastating show to let Jack in.

“Baby, what’s wrong? I knew I should’ve come over earlier.” He immediately placed a hand on your forehead, looking you over for any other signs of distress. “You don’t feel warm. Does your stomach hurt?”

“No Jack, I’m fine.” You took his hand off of you and wrapped your arms around yourself. “Just not really feeling like myself and going out tonight just didn’t seem like the best idea.”

Jack nods, understanding the feeling. Sometimes he didn’t feel like going out either and he wasn’t about to force you to do anything, especially not with the way your shoulders were slumped and the fact that the usual light in your eyes wasn’t there. “Well, would it be okay if I sit and watch your show with you? Haven’t seen much of you lately and to be real, I miss you a little.”

The last part made you crack a smile, a genuine one. “Fine. But don’t ask me a million questions or I’m just gonna turn it off.”

“No promises.” He laughs, plopping himself down in the middle of the couch. You originally parked your body next to him but when his hands wrapped themselves around your stomach, it made you feel weird and overly exposed. Excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, you tried to mentally snap out of it, slightly embarrassed that Jack’s friends’ comments were affecting you the way they were. You walked back to the couch, settling down on one end of it, creating some space between you and your boyfriend.

“What the hell? Why are you so far away?”

“I just want my own space for a little bit, we don’t need to be up under each other every second of the day.” You didn’t even trust your own words, opting to keep it in a hushed tone.

And he called your bluff immediately, grabbing the remote to pause the show. “Look I didn’t come here to press you or anything I just—is there something going on with us? I mean you’ve barely answered my texts, you canceled our plans today and now you can’t even stand to be near me. What’s going on?”

Now you felt guilty, on top of everything else. “It’s not you Jack,” you sigh, scooting over to grab his hand in reassurance. “I really didn’t wanna do this because I don’t want this to become a thing but—something happened at your party the other night.” You feel him tense up, a slight crack in his jaw from how hard he had just gritted his teeth. “I was walking back into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and I heard Cope and Nemo talking about me. They were basically talking about how you could do so much better and how my looks aren’t up to par and it was just really shitty. And I know they’ve been at your place all week hanging out so I really just haven’t been in the headspace to be around them.”

He narrows his eyes at you and pulls his hand away. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want to cause a scene at your party, it wasn’t the time.”

“So you thought that ignoring me and isolating yourself, going on this emotional downward spiral would just what? Make it all better?”

You were taken aback by his reaction but you genuinely didn't have the energy to do this today. “Jack, my reaction or the way that I’m handling it isn’t the point. The point is that your friends were being assholes and you’re more concerned with me than with what they said about me. Why is that?”

“Because you know how they are! They get a little drunk or a little high, sometimes both and they just start spewing random shit. You can’t take them serious. And maybe you got things out of context. Did you hear the entire conversation?”

He had to be joking…right?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself before losing your mind. All you wanted today was a nice, relaxing time to find your inner peace but instead here you were. “Let me be clear, I don’t care if I walked in at the very last second of their stupid little conversation. I heard some hurtful things and I heard my name attached to them. That should be enough.”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head,“you’re just being sensitive right now, maybe your period is coming or something cause this really isn’t that deep. Like I said before, you know how they get, I’m sure it was just jokes.”

“Yeah everything may be a fucking joke to you, including my feelings.” You moved away from him, “but I don’t find any of this funny. Which is why I told you I needed some space. And you won’t even respect that.” Your voice cracks, feeling the tears stinging your eyes even though you thought you’d done enough crying today. “You think don’t I see the comments? Or hear the shit people say about me? That I’m not pretty enough or smart enough or that you could easily do so much better. I get that from complete strangers all the time. But to hear your friends say it? Your people? That hurts Jack.”

“I just really don’t think this is that big of a deal.” He tries to reason and diffuse the situation. “They probably don’t even mean any of that shit, you can’t take it to heart.”

The walls that you had built from your failed relationships in the past had been torn down by Jack, brick by brick. You felt safe with him, cared about and cared for. And in this moment, he was public enemy number one.“Do you think I’m the fucking ‘boy who cried wolf?’ I’ve NEVER said anything to you about this before and it isn’t the first time it’s happened but I didn’t want to make it a big deal. And here you are defending them, you’re supposed to be on my side?” You didn’t even notice you were yelling.

“Oh my god I am on your side!” He raises his voice, “I just think this is all one big misunderstanding and you shouldn’t get so worked up about it.”

“Oh my god you—you know what I’m not even gonna do this anymore. You win.” You stand up from your seat, not breaking eye contact with him. “Respectfully, I think you should get the fuck out. I really need to take care of myself right now and you’re not making it any better so you should probably just go.”

He remains stationary on your couch, still staring at you.

“Jack, are you losing your hearing or something? I said you need to leave. Now please.”

He stands up, walking towards you to try to pull you into his arms, “babe—”

You back away. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t try to cutesy pet name your way out of this. I told you that something happened and it hurt me and you refuse to listen so you can go. I’m done talking about it.”

The man finally takes your words seriously, grabbing his stuff and walking to the door. He closes it without another word, leaving you to think about how the hell you even got there. There isn’t even enough sadness in your body anymore to cry, you’re shaking with rage at the fact that your boyfriend chose to defend his boys over caring about your feelings. It was simple, he didn’t care about you and they definitely didn’t, so what was the point? It was time to move on.

Two days later, he was being completely ignored by you. He’d spent some time licking his wounds and was really starting to regret the way he reacted. His first instinct had always been to defend his people, his boys especially. They had been with him since he was working at Chick-fil-A and didn’t have anything remotely valuable to his name and they had never switched up on him, so why should he? And maybe that had been a part of the problem. He never told them “no” or that he didn’t like something because…that just wasn’t the relationship. They were grown men and Jack wasn’t about to tell another grown man how to act. But in this case, he probably should have listened to you and at least talked to Cope and Nemo about what they said, secretly hoping that it wasn’t as bad as you made it seem.

“Bro, I gotta talk to y’all about something. And I’m being forreal.”

Nemo sat next to him on the couch and Cope was across from him. “What’s up? You look like somebody kidnapped your dog.” Cope jokes and Nemo laughs a little, but Jack just clears his throat.

“Okay so…I need to ask y’all about the party last weekend. Y/n heard you talking about her and she was super pissed and we got into this big ass argument about it. So…what exactly was said?”

“Oh shit,” Nemo looks down at the ground. “Look bro we didn’t mean for her to hear all that—”

“But it was all facts.” Cope finishes for him. “All we said was that she’s kind of a bum and you can and should do a lot better than her. I mean the girls that we bring around and that’s who you picked? I don’t wanna judge but—”

Jack holds a hand up to stop him from continuing. “Imma be real, I don’t really give a fuck what y’all think. That’s my girl bro, like my fucking girlfriend who heard you talking shit about her and it made her feel bad. And I defended you because I thought that my best friends would be supportive and I don’t know…not shitty to someone I love? Guess that’s my bad for assuming.”

“I’m sorry, it definitely wasn’t our place to comment on your relationship. You know when that liq starts to hit—”

“Guess you didn’t fucking hear me. I said I defended your dumbasses. I basically chose y’all over her and now you’re sitting here like this shit is sweet?”

Cope tries to open his mouth but Jack cuts him off again, “Not even gonna lie I need you both outta my sight for the next couple days. I can’t believe this. And Cope, you really shouldn’t be commenting about anybody’s appearance when you permanently look like the Avatar. Think about when you’re 50 and how that’s gonna look.”

He knew he was lashing out but he couldn’t believe how wrong he was and how hard he had belittled your feelings. You two always talked about the unreal expectations for people, especially women and now he had contributed to the problem in the largest way. There was no concrete plan to remedy the situation but he damn sure had to try.

When you didn’t answer after the first four times he knocked, he thought about breaking the door down but that was a TMZ story waiting to happen. He just kept knocking and knocking until you opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

He didn’t realize how nervous he was until you were standing in front of him. “I’m so sorry. I know that won’t, that it’s not enough—I fucked up. I should’ve listened to you and I didn’t. Instead I got super defensive and didn’t want to acknowledge that my friends were being shitty and—”

“I forgive you.” You interrupt, facial expression remaining stead. “I’m over it.”

“You—you’re…over it?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I had some really hard mental health days and it sucked but I realized that I like who I am. I love who I am, actually. Crooked smile, stretch marks, love handles…whatever. It’s me and I don’t want that to change, for anyone.”

Jack smiles, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good because I was about to give you this big speech about how you’re perfect to me and for me and not to let anyone make you think any different. But it looks like you came to that conclusion on your own.”

You nod, a smirk forming on your lips. “Did you need anything else?”

“N—no. I uh…I wanted to just see if we were okay? Things got pretty heated the other night and I feel horrible for not taking your side. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You can’t contain the burst of laughter that comes out. “Sorry this isn’t funny, it's just…Jack I needed you. I needed you to believe me, to trust me, to defend me, to comfort me. Shit something—anything. But you tried to gaslight me into thinking I was dramatic when I know what I heard. And then you defended your idiot ass friends tooth and nail to the point where we were screaming at each other. I got myself out of this, I remembered who the fuck I am on my own. I remembered how beautiful and smart and worthy I am. On my own. So what the hell do I need you for? Let me answer that for you, I don’t. I don’t need you. I don’t need this. The belittling, the shit talking, the toxicity. I don’t need any of it..”

Looking him up and down, seeing the tears swimming in his eyes, a very different scene from days ago, and you shake your head. “You and I? Baby, we’re done. Have fun with the boys, you all deserve each other.”

#jack Harlow #jack Harlow imagine #jack Harlow x reader #jack Harlow fanfic #jack Harlow angst

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

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Call Sign: Sharky (Platonic)

Part 1, part 2 part 4 part 5

Sorry if parts repeat like some people noticed. There’s not much I can do about it and it seems to be a glitch with the keep reading line. My posts are long and I don’t wanna clog people’s pages so y’all will have to deal with it

Also thank you all for your support!.

The topic of your Call sign is often ones that’s discussed with confusion with 141

Each time you were asked you’d come up with a new story something like “dad was a marine biologist”, “I was raised by sharks sharkboy style and was taken in by the military” or “I just wouldn’t shut up about them”

It leaves all them confused and silently curious

Call signs most of the time have meaning to them

Now some can certainly be stupid or embarrassing but they get them for a reason and Sharky is a specific one

One that came with you when you had found yourself transferred over to 141

Which had meant that only you and your past squadron knew that meaning

And meant ghost, Soap and Gaz we’re clueless as to getting it except from you

Price is not it the same situation as them, partially because he knew your past captain

In fact he’s good mates with him, they had used to serve together before climbing both their ways up the ranks

Even got your recommendation from him

But when he decided to ask the question of your Codename he didn’t really expect that it had more than what meets the eye

“Your wondering about their Codename?.” He questions looking over to Price whom sits beside him at the bar. Price nods, making his old friend laugh a bit and add “I’ll have to give some context first before we get to that point”.

“Context of what?”

“Oh, of when they first joined”

When you had first joined you were much different to how you were now

You were a shy little thing, less confident to how you were now. Downright afraid of the others on your team

There was a very clear and tall wall you put between yourself and everyone else no matter how they tried to reach through to you

It took a long while but after some time one of them had gotten through to you

Salamander, but everyone at the time called him Sal for short

He was an a older soldier, mid-50’s with a wife and kid

It’s that reason why he was able to connect to you, having experience with a child of his own

He showed you the ropes, helping bridge that gap between you and the others

You began to open up more, talking in hushed mumbled before they evolved to full on discussions

You knew a lot of weird and obscure facts, stuff most of them hadn’t known about

You specifically talked quite a bit about marine life since a few of them were ex-navy and you thought that would be funny

It admittedly was especially when you joke that “you’d think they’d teach you about this stuff when your at sea” and “maybe I’m more navy than you guys”

It was nice, you were opening up and some had even began trying to debate each other over call signs for you

They weren’t really sure what to give you yet but it was the mission that finalized it

“The mission?”

“Yeah…the mission. What gave me their name”

The mission was ok at first, that’s the main thing you remember about it

No initial panic just clear waters both figuratively and literally as your footsteps crunch down on golden yellow sand

But then like a nuke dropping everything went to shit

It’s blurry to your mind what had initially happened but you ended up hiding behind some washed up driftwood

Sal was beside you clutching his neck as you did your best to keep him from bleeding out

The shrapnel lodged in his neck was too deep, blood pouring through your fingers as you pleaded with him to hang on

Your vision was blurred by tears as you watched the life drain from him

He often talked about his wife, his kid, and yet he now laid here beside you. Forgotten in the sand as your hands shook

Something came over you, that primal urge that every living creature had in times of peril

The urge to survive no matter what

Your adrenaline was running high, the pops of gunshots making it worse along with the red that began dying the once yellow sand

Your breath is getting quicker as you begin to see red

And then you can’t remember what happened other than the overwhelming feeling of panic and the urge to protect

When the haze over your mind cleared the pungent taste of iron filled your mouth and clogged your nose

You feel shaky, almost as if your entire body was hollow

taking a step back you almost trip over something, making you stumble a bit as you look down to see the dead face of the enemy staring back

Pure terror is twisted on his once moving face that bows stuck in the perpetual horror he died while feeling

Your attention is drawn away when you hear your captains voice, it cuts through the static that muffled the crashing waves and squawking pelicans that sounded so distant

His hand is on your shoulder, his eyes staring down at you with worry as blood dribbled down from your lips

Your dazed and confused. Eyes wide and pupils blown out

“Captain what happened. Why do I taste blood?” It’s such a simple question but it shakes him to his core, you sound so afraid. Like a kid

You are a kid compared to them but this just makes it more obvious

The remaining part of the squadron both injured and tired watch on as their captain talks to you gently

Your shaking like a leaf, blood drenching you as he draped an arm over your shoulder and walked you towards them

You don’t stare at your teammates though, you instead stare at the once blue water that was turned scarlet red

Off in the distance you see the distinct shape of a fin or two poke out from the water

The crashing of the waves felt louder despite the fact you walked farther and farther away

Rolling in and retracting back out in a cycle

You notice near a body in the sand two fingers, discarded and bloodied and a memory flashes in your mind

The enemy, captain, scuffle, bite, spit out, kill, safe, move on

It now explains the blood that isn’t your own that you spit out

You fill in the blanks about what happened by asking your teammates afterwards who are nervous to answer

Seemingly afraid to send you into a panic attack after learning what had happened

Apparently you went apeshit on the enemy, to the point the team did barely anything as you did the brunt of the work

You used your pistol, when you ran out of ammo you used the empty gun and your knife

At some point one had grabbed the captain, was about to put a bullet through his head before you intervened

The human jaw despite how weak it is compared to the bite of something like a dog or a big cat, it’s much more powerful than we give it credit for

Exerting up to Around 125 kg of force or 162 lbs per square inch

Usually something like this doesn’t happen much considering you’d have to get through skin, tissue and tendon but you had done it via your adrenaline

You bitt off the guy’s fingers, not one but two and then spat them out

You then killed him, his body dropping down to the sand just like his fingers did

It’s what earned you your nickname Sharky

You see

Shark attacks are much less common as one would think compared to how their portrayed in the media. Sure, they do happen but it’s less likely for one to be lethal

Your more likely to be killed by a deer or mosquito than a shark

They usually attack when provoked or when confused after mistaking a human for a seal

They dislike our flavour, so after an attack they usually discard us after the initial bite

Much like how rare a lethal shark attack actually is in comparison to other animal related deaths it’s rare that someone can bite off someone’s finger

And like a shark you spat it out

Thus your clever nickname given to you by your teammate Kansas after remembering your ramblings of the aquatic sea creature

“It just kinda stuck after that” he says taking a sip of his beer before placing it down onto the countertop, his thumb circles it’s rim as he looks down into the gold liquid. “Their a good kid. Their happy right?” It comes out as somewhat hoarse, he’s more choked up than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, their happy. Hasn’t been a day I hadn’t woken up to find them with a shit eatin grin”

“Good. Funny how they’ve brightened up from such a shy kid.”

He pulls back from his chair, placing down his cash plus a small tip for the bartender who accepts it eagerly

“Good to see you again Price. I’ll keep in contact” just as he’s about to leave he adds one more thing “ps, they write about you a lot”

“Write?”

#platonic #Sharky y/n #captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader

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kayadrake123 · 1 year

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I’m not your friend

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

A little cute story for Jason!

……………………………………

Jason furrows his eyebrows at the sound of your hushed giggles as you enter the apartment. He messaged you that he’s coming over around a hour ago, and when he found the place empty he just decided to stay and wait up for you. He found it weird that you weren’t home at 2 o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t really worry because you could have gone over to a friend’s place.

He looks up from his spot on the couch to see you stumbling into the room, a dopey smile on your lips as you held onto the wall for balance. You shush yourself a few times but still giggling rather loud. Jason smiles at the sight.

“Y/N?” He calls out, and let’s out a laugh when you jump a little. “Oh hey Jayjay…” You say, a hand held to your chest. You bend down to take off your shoes, which appears to be a difficult task for you as you struggle to pull them off. You almost fall over but catch yourself at the last second. Standing up, you look at the man in front of you with the same goofy smile. “You look nice.”

He smiles at the compliment. “Thank you, are you drunk?”

You move closer to the couch, still stumbling a little bit. Once you reach it, you lean against the arm of the couch and stare into his eyes. The first thing Jason notices is how close you are to his face, and the fact that your eyes are bloodshot red and that you reek of weed.

“Maybe.” You grin at him, your hands coming up to touch his cheeks. Due to your lack of balance and having nothing to support you properly, you fall forward, causing Jason to grab you wrists to stop you. You let out more giggles and look down at your hands. “You care about me.”

You say it teasingly, but Jason ignores it to encourage you to take a seat. “Uh-huh, come and sit on the couch Boobie.”

You smile at the nickname, but listen nonetheless and allow him to pull you into the seat next to him. ‘Boobie’ is a nickname you and Jason came up with when you were kids. You’ve known him since Bruce first adopted him, and rekindled your friendship when he came back from the pit. People have always said you two were inseparable, stuck close together like to boobs in a bra (the words of Dick Grayson while he was drunk off of his ass). S you both now call each other ‘Boobie’ for that reason.

As soon as you sit down, you snuggle up close to him with your nose buried into his neck. You take a deep breath before they turn into soft ones. For a second Jason thinks you’re sleeping, but then you start humming a song. He side eyes you but goes to pick up the poetry book he was looking at without moving you too much.

As his eyes scan the pages, he feels you peek to see what he’s up to. A scoff leaves your lips before you sit up and move away from him to face him properly. You lick your lips before speaking.

“‘I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that my heart beats a little faster when he smiles at me. I wanted to tell him that whenever I’m away from him, the noise gets louder and that the knife feels deeper.’” Jason looks up at you with and lowers the book onto his lap. With his full attention, you continue. “‘But I can’t. Not when he looks at her like that, and how she looks back. Not when his hands feel cold in mine, but his face heats up at the sight of her. Not when I know the pain of rejection is one I wouldn’t be able to take. So I stay silent.’”

“Hm.” Jason stares at you, a curious expression on his handsome face.

“It’s one of my favourite poems.” You tell him, an almost painful smile on your lips. Your eyes move to another spot in the room, a distant look on your face as you let out a loud sigh.

The atmosphere in the room changes. Jason watches you closely, trying to understand exactly what you’re feeling and thinking in this very moment. He says nothing, and neither do you. You fall into a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes Jason stands up to get you a glass of water and some Chinese you have left over in your fridge from last night. As he warms it up in the microwave, he leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen to get a view of you on the couch. You have your head in your hands with both your eyes closed, probably trying to get yourself together.

He shakes his head at you but let’s out a little chuckle.

“Here you go Y/N,” Jason kicks your foot gently to get your attention when he returns to the living room. You lift your head a little too quickly and groan in pain. “Easy easy…”

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice now a little raspy. You take the glass and the plate.

Jason responds before taking up his previous seat. There’s a little space between the two of you, not much, but enough for the both of you to move around.

You chew on your food, occasionally taking a sip of water, as Jason continues to read some poetry, but not without sneaking a few glances at you to make sure you’re eating. You finish eating in about 15 minutes and place your dishes on the coffee table in front of you.

“Hey Boobie?” You start.

“Mhmm?” He doesn’t look up from the words on the pages, but you know he’s listening.

You clear your throat. “Do you think it’s possible to love someone that much?”

He still doesn’t look up. “What do you mean?”

“Like in the poem. All that fairytale shit we hear about butterflies, and hearts beating faster, all that shit. Do you think it’s true?”

“Um…” he licks his lips and lifts his head to look ahead of him in thought. “I mean, I think it’s possible for someone to make you that happy. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that if you don’t feel those ‘butterflies’ that you’re not in love with the person. It’s different for people.”

“And the pain?”

“Of rejection?”

“Of love in general.”

He looks up at the ceiling now. “The people who love us the most, can hurt us the most. And the other way round.” He looks at you in the eyes now. “Whether it’s intentional or not, we hurt those around us. But the beauty of love? It’s being able to help each other heal those wounds they caused each other. To accept all the ugly and the beautiful, because that’s what love truly is. It can be painful, but it can also be beautiful.”

You’re stuck staring at him. You try to move your mouth to reply to his poetic words, to tell him you agree, but you can’t. It’s like your body is afraid to ruin the moment, afraid that if you move too much you’ll scare him off. One of Jason’s eyebrows lift as he stares back at your face. He can’t explain the look on your face, because it’s not emotionless, in fact it’s full of so much emotion.

“You have beautiful eyes.” It comes out without you even realising you’re saying it.

His eyes widen at the compliment. This compliment isn’t like the one you said earlier, or all the ones you’ve ever said to him, because this one is said with some much love that it surprises him.

“Thank you,” He clears his throat. “Your eyes are beautiful too.”

You smile at him and he swears he’s so fucking in love with you.

You both continued to talk, having conversations about anything and everything. The room was filled with laughs, whispers, yells and the occasional song from one of your phones. Throughout it all, you both keep on stealing long glances at each other. Unspoken words sit on the tips of your tongues, words you both wish you were more confident to say.

Somehow you got onto the topic of fears, and had migrated from the couch to your bed. Both of you lay on your backs, your heads to the ceiling.

Your heads are both on one pillow. You’re so close to each other that you can feel his body heat. It comforts you to have him so close. It makes you feel safe.

“What’s your biggest fear?” He whispers to you.

“My biggest one?” He hums. You turn your head to look at him, causing Jason to do the same. Your noses are practically touching. “Losing you.”

He turns his head into the pillow to let out a laugh. You smile at how cute he is. When he turns back, he has a little bit of red on his cheeks and a dopey smile on his lips.

“Losing me?” He questions.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

He doesn’t move. The smile he held seconds ago disappears, leaving behind a blank expression. The longer you watch him though, you realise that he isn’t looking at you blankly, that his emotions are where you always find them: his eyes. For as long as you can remember, Jason has always been a hard cookie to crack, he’s been trained to hide his emotions by Batman and years of trauma. But one day, as you stared deep into his eyes, you realised that Jason’s eyes held all his emotions.

For something so beautiful, his eyes hold so much rage within them.

“You love me?” He finally asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“Of course I do, I tell you this all the time.” You smile at him, but you know what he’s really asking. You can feel it too.

You’ve said those 3 words dozens of times to him, but this time, it feels and sounds different. Like you mean it differently this time. Like you don’t mean it as just friends.

“No but…” His hand comes up to your cheek and hovers above it, as if he’s afraid to touch you. “Not like that.”

“Then like what?” You were beginning to sober up. You move your head so that his palm finally touches your cheek. He cups it gently, stroking the area below your eyes soothingly. “Like I have a crush on you?”

He chuckles at your childishness. “Do you have a crush on me?”

You grin. “Sometimes…”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, like when you won’t stop looking at me like that.” You playfully try to push his face away from yours. He laughs at your actions, his hands coming up to grab your wrists. He lays a kiss on one of your palms.

“Like what?”

“With your stupid pretty eyes and face that make me nervous and blush and shit,” He snorts, the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard leaving his mouth. His one hand moves to caress your cheek. “And when you do cute shit.”

“Cute shit?” “Like you are now.”

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and your hand held up to his chest in between the both of you. One of your hands move to stroke his hair soothingly. Jason moans softly at the feeling, his body moving slightly closer to yours. A yawn leaves your mouth, causing you to pause in your movements. Jason opens his eyes and watches you throw your head back as you let another yawn out.

When you look back at him, he has the softest smile on his beautiful pink lips. It makes him look more kissable. You wish you had the courage to just lean in closer and press your lips against his. Hell, you wish you had the courage to tell him you love him. Your right hand moves to stroke his bottom lip.

“You’re my best friend…” you start, and something flashes in Jason’s eyes. The smile falls from his lips. “Don’t say that.” He gives you a vulnerable look.

“And I love you. Just…not how I’m supposed to.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “What are you saying?”

You give him a sad smile. “Nothing. I just…wanted you to know that I love you.”

“I love you too.” His eyes drift to your lips before looking you straight in the eyes. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Your smile grows wider, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and placing a loving kiss on the side of his mouth, so close to his lips. His eyes close at the sensation. You place another kiss on his forehead and allow him to snuggle under your chin and into your chest, his arms wrapping around your lower stomach and yours circling his shoulders while cradling his head.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, not only because you’re still kinda drunk but also because you have the man you’re in love with cradled in your arms.

Even though you know you’re probably going to be mortified when you wake up for saying all this shit to Jason, for now you allow the familiar scent of Jason to consume you as you drift off into slumberland.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #i am a hopeless romantic for friends to lovers #Ending and future of relationship is definitely ambiguous #I live for vulnerable jason todd #batfam x reader #dc x reader

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horrorscoupes · 10 months

Text

speaking of hush

i know the “hush is a shade” theories are already RIFE on here, but i wanted to suggest my own idea for some variety :] (timestamped as always)

as an avid lover of the sovereigns and all of their shenanigans, there have been a few things gnawing at my thoughts for quite some time:

1. if the sovereigns under the river used the inversion as a feeding frenzy to glean more power than they typically would get from the natural progression of death via the river (“Was this your plan all along? Not to invade—but to feast? How much stronger will this harvest leave you? How long before something greater than Shades breaks loose?” [All Along 30:36]), then why, almost two years later, havent we seen ANYTHING else about that?

2. When Min’ara and E’Laetum are discussing the things that “lie bound in Death” they say this particularly interesting thing: “Their Prima seeks freedom from their prison.” “Give him a new prison instead.” [Held by Ancient Gods 5:29] which, of course, has always been assumed to be referring to one particular sovereign separate from the bunch

obviously this could be way off the mark, and i’m totally game to accept it if i’m wrong here, but i wonder (since they very easily created daemons and then, once rebelled against, experimented on humanity until they created vampires and empowered humans) if during their time in jail under the river, the sovereigns began to create something else. brachium refers to something “greater than” the shades that ravaged the E&E games during the inversion, which leads me to believe he was either talking about the sovereign themselves escaping OR that he referred to something else created by the trapped sovereigns to use kind of like they use shades to carry messages out of death (“Crafted, by what lies beneath the River, made out of the magic they siphon out of the waters. When they first climb back into the realm of the living, they’re weak. Running on pure instinct, draining anyone close to sustain themselves. To build up their strength. If they get enough, they become tangible, like this one. And if they get even more—a lot more, really gorge themselves… they start to actually remember their purpose. To be a messenger. An envoy. A voice, for what lies beneath.” [Blakes Truth 13:30]).

it’s been two years since the wolf/vamp storylines have seen the inversion and still we haven’t heard anything about the re-emergence of the sovereigns, because i really don’t think that the power absorption was solely to start breaking out. obv we don’t know where hush falls on the timeline just yet, but i think the fact that we also don’t know where certain people (project meridian cast, vega, regulus, blake to an extent, etc) were the night of the inversion is ALSO very important and interesting. <- i can talk about how weird and intriguing it is that we haven’t seen anything past inversion for vega and regulus for hours </3

so, if they’re using all the energy for creation rather than destruction it would have been incredibly smart to leave hush core-less. he isn’t a daemon, and without a core he has no threads linking him to aria. this means that not only can his powers be tethered to the metric fuck-ton of power that the sovereigns just absorbed by killing 1500 empowered people, in order to “rift” (idk what to call it. or if he did at all. anyways) he wouldn’t have to pass through the meridian at all.

so if he IS a new creation of the sovereigns forged from their power and energy, then it would make sense that E’Laetum and Min’Ara may want a bite out of him. they are starving and rotting away alone between terra and aria, and he is looking like a snack. which brings me to my second point: do E’laetum and Min’Ara want someone to bring them hush (in this theory a piece of the sovereigns waning power) to tide them over and perhaps lure a sovereign out of death? that’s a little bit of a stretch (and so is my theory linking hush and project meridian), but think that it’s something we could all stand to consider.

ALSO sidenote: i think that hush surfaces after the inversion while D.U.M.P. is still spinning over all of the deaths and distrusting the Chorus, hence why the deaths of several “articulates” (erik tell me what this means NEOW) seem to be going completely ignored/unnoticed. during the aftermath of inversion, D.U.M.P. and the Chorus are not friends, and it would make sense for them to overlook d(a)emon deaths while they’re still trying to decide if the Chorus knew that the inversion was coming

sidenote #2: the spellsong, which i’ve seen people questioning, has been defined as the binding between magic users and magic/daemons and aria/magic users to one another/magic to the world. to Me it seems like a somewhat broad term used to fill spaces, since no one in universe really knows where magic came from in its entirety. daemons use the term most often in canon, describing it as something they can “hear,” hence why i defined it as the binding between magic and the world. (“I can hear them. Every voice in the spellsong going silent. Every emotion being felt inside this… trap.” [Voices Gone Silent 5:08], “Your kind is a part of the Spellsong. Our harmony. And even if time has made some of my people callous, we still feel the loss of any voice, be it demonic or human.” [Comforted by Your Demon 14:15], “Most of the Chorus was… genuinely horrified to hear what had happened. They’d felt those losses. Heard those voices in the Spellsong as they went silent. Our people don’t always get along, yours and mine. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they usually don’t. But there’s a bond there that neither of our people can deny. And in those that I could read, they felt that pain.” [Consoling an Elemental and an Incubus 27:27], and “When you bit into him and he bit into you, your blood met each other’s cores. Each of your spellsongs met a counterpoint.” [You Bond With a Vampire 19:45]) <- these are the ones i found on short notice, i would be beyond thrilled to add more quotes to the collection

this is by no means me trying to shit on other theories, i think it’s so wonderful that we’re all here guessing. stay curious

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted hush #long ass post. sorry

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itzgruvia · 5 months

Text

Gruvia fanfiction: hurt/comfort, sad and a little bit of fluff by the end.

Warning: mention of self-harm, depression, anxiety, bullying, and blood.

Original posted in AO3

____________________________________________

Juvia was never one to indulge herself into someone's personal business, unless she was asked for.

She was private herself, and she never wanted to ask for help or advice concerning her anxiety disorder, even if she deeply wanted to seek their comfort, but this isn't about Juvia.

it was about her only lover, her sweet man, and compassionate boyfriend.

Through out their intimacy and romantic relationship-which was still developing- they always tried to share their problems, their insecurities, it has been difficult for both, especially for a person like Gray, always wearing a ghost-like shield to separate his friends from his life.

Juvia could say the same thing about herself, mostly because she doesn't want to bother people.

But they went through this, they discussed about it and how they'll try to lean on each other when it gets too hard, and so far they have been showing a little bit of vulnerability.

At least that's what Juvia thought.

It was a late afternoon, Juvia was finally done with her classes and ready to join her friends in the FT salon room, and end the evening with a nap, she can feel a headache coming to upturn her night.

She wanted to take the stairs rather than the elevator, to get her legs pumping after sitting in the hard wooden chairs in her class, it makes her legs numb and uncomfortable, And once she was about to take the next stairs, she heard murmuring, two people were conversing in hushed tones. it didn't take her too long to realize who thery were.

Gray and Erza, of course no one can miss her orotund voice.

Juvia knows they were having a private conversation, something she shouldn't be listening to, but she couldn't budge from her crouching position ( how did she get to crouch in the first place?).

She wasn't jealous, she is very much confident about that, because she knows better than be jealous of Erza, and despite her overriding imagination and her traumatic past that deprived her from having any trust towards her new friends, she believed that Erza is better than a cheating friend. moreover, she wouldn't do this to Jellal, or Gray or to her.

But Juvia had a feeling that this might be something she had to hear, even if she'll feel guilty after it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Erza asked, rarely does Juvia get to hear worry laced in her voice.

"Yeah" Gray replied, although it took him a brief moment to do so. Matter of fact, she noticed how tired he got in the last few days, but she didn't worry too much about it, she assumed it might be university loads of assignments.

"You know you can talk to me about anything" she assured the boy, a weird sense of worrisome began to crawl over Juvia; why is she pushing him to speak up? must there be some history that Gray didn't bother to mention to her?

"I am alright Erza... trust me" he responded.

there was quietness for a moment, Juvia urged to take a little peak from where she is hiding but she doesn't want to risk being founded, it will cause problems and Gray might even be disgusted and break up with her and all her friends will find her weird and leave her alone like before-

her exaggerated overthinking stopped abruptly when she heard the rustling of fabrics.

she carefully leaned to see that Erza was rubbing his arm in comfort. It was all peculiar to her.... well maybe not new but unusual, especially to Gray, she isn't that affectionate compared to Natsu and Lucy.

Well, if Juvia were to be general, the Red haired woman was never this gentle with anyone but she has her motherly moments.

so this was very surprising for Juvia, and it made the worrying pit in her stomach stronger.

"If ... you have the idea of doin-"

" I am not going to do it" he retorted, in a rather sharp manner, he sighed after a moment.

"I swear it's nothing like that... I'm just tired" he added, less bothered than before.

"Alright... let me know when you need me, okay?" gripping his shoulder gently, Juvia could see the nod of her boyfriend; he agreed.

once they started to move, Juvia panicked for a second, if they do find her here she'll throw a bunch of stuttering words thus making her look like an idiot and ending her perfect romance.

but instead, they both agreed to take the elevator down to the common room ( which made her remember to go there as soon as she undress from her outfit), fortunately for her, she doesn't have to stand in an awkward anxiety inducing situation.

Once she heard their voices disappearing and the sound of the elevator, she slowly left her hiding place and ran upstairs to her dorm floor, all while her brain is racking through what she had heard.

Gray is hiding something from her and he doesn't want to tell her. That's one thing she is confident about.

But what she doesn't know is the content, what he is going through, is it bigger problem than she can imagine? She has never seen Erza that worried and particulary towards Gray.

it says a lot.

the loud chattering of her friends didn't distract her from her circling thoughts about Gray, he was sitting next her, their knees touching while arguing with Lucy about whatever topic that Juvia didn't bother to listen to.

She doesn't know if she should ask him about it, she feels like she might be pushing him into a corner and making him pour out his stress out and that's not something Gray is found of, she knew that by experience and she doesn't want to make the same mistake.

However, she is scared, what if ... it's a huge thing that concerns his life? She knows that Gray tasted that empty sense of life once when he was young, he told her that and Juvia cried by the end which made Gray nervous.

And what if Gray isn't happy? what if he doesn't want to ... go on anymore? she can't always trust his pretty smile, she can't be reassured by that even if she knows him by the back of her hand.

"Juvia?" her beloved's sexy! voice called out to her, while nudging her knee with his slightly. She snapped out of her haze, and looked at him.

he didn't look all worried but the usual frown on his face slightly changed, something that meant that he was observing her silent demeanor.

once she immediately set her eyes on his beautiful handsome face, she fought against the overthinking of hers. Gray would do that no more, not after what he told her; the fact that she was here with him and breathing with him was enough for him to continue living (his words not hers).

so maybe Juvia is overthinking it.

"what are you thinking about?" , he asked.

she blinked, feeling nervous after she got caught dazing in front of her friends, although she couldn't see Lucy in her spot anymore.

"it's nothing, just some assignments to do" she chuckled to hide the nervousness from her voice, but she knows that she failed just by forcing that small laugh from her lips.

Gray kept looking at her, an invitation to vent about whatever is eating her up, but Juvia doesn't know how she can bring forth a subject that concerns him, plus how can she tell him that she was eavesdropping into a private conversation?

.... it's not like she followed them, it was a coincidence.

However, if she stores this worry to herself, it will haunt her tonight, and she has an assignment test tomorrow, she can't afford to go without sleep in her system (not like she never done that before).

Maybe stating it at first won't make it a problem.

"well... I heard something today" she began, fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

Gray leaned on his arms, his elbows on top of his knees, she felt a little bit comfortable talking with the fond gaze that he is wearing in his face.

"I accidentally heard you and Erza talk about something today, in the staircase.." she told him, not daring to look at his eyes.

"Juvia didn't mean to first of all, but based on the conversation, Juvia is feeling a little bit worried about you..."

she finally glanced at him and she felt the anxiety pile up in her stomach.

Gray's face was... conflicting, like he was scared but he is masking it with anger.

" you were eavesdropping? what the hell Juvia-"

"Juvia wasn't! I was taking the stairs!"

"you never take the stairs!"

"i do when I want to walk!" Juvia never wanted to raise her voice at her beloved, but the way he is taking the conversation was ... nerving, as if he is accusing her of discovering a secret door that holds his deepest scars.

he got up from the coach, ready to leave the conversation, running away from it.

"My love, Juvia was just asking!" Juvia tried to follow after him.

"don't ask questions I won't answer Juvia!" he looked back, harsh expression covering the fear in his eyes.

Juvia gathered a moment to breath in, she doesn't want her anger to control her emotion, but it made her feel so unfair, it was so unfair that she got to share her deepest scars, her trauma, her fear, her joy, her sadness.

and he offered her everything, so why is he pushing her away?

" what is it that you are hiding from me?" she asked quietly.

" I don't need to tell you"

"that's so unfair!" she yelled, her fists clenched from her sides, and she finally blurted it out, in she failed on keep her emotions controlled.

she can see her friends coming through the entrance door, concerned over the raised voices. It is actually way more concerning when it's the rarest couples who fight.

Gray looked taken back by Juvia's tone. She rarely does that to anyone, but if she did it towards him, it indicates that there's something bigger.

"i always reach out to you, even when I am afraid" she continued, she felt her face heat up like a furnace.

" so what are you afraid of?"

the question triggered something in Gray. She can see his usual frown vanish from his face, and for a moment she saw him scared, as if she caught a glimpse over his past self.

but Gray clenched his jaw and turned around to leave, Cana and Lucy didn't try to reach out to him, they just let him leave with their mouth agape from what they've witnessed.

Juvia felt the frustration hitting her at once, clenching her hair tightly, she can sense the painful clutch.

she fell back into the couch, huffing in disappointment.

It turns out asking him was a problem.

Gray is hating himself, no matter how much he blasts the music into his ears, it couldn't block the loud noises in his head.

he admits that this was the worst fight he ever had with Juvia, everything was sudden to him, like a slap to his face, Juvia never yelled at him with anger, actually, she never yelled at anyone before.

but it's his fault anyways, he was defensive because he was a coward, who didn't want to show his scars to her. how could he? Juvia was a gentle soul although she always tries to deny it with her past "Shameful acts" of whatever, but everyone has their own piece of tainted wrongdoings.

Gray doesn't care if she killed someone before, she is still that blinding sunlight that engulfs his cold chest with warmth.

and he is afraid that if he pulls up his sweater and shows what he did to his wrists will make her see him in a different way, whether with disgust, fear, or pity.

he had seen those people before. he met them, and he was friends with them before they stripped him from his secret self-harming and pulled down their masks to reveal their true colors.

pity, disgust, fear...

if only Erza hadn't stopped him in the staircase, if only she wasn't so frightened-

Gray sighed, he pulled his headphones away from his ears.

no he thought, here's no one else to blame but me.

come to think of it, Erza had the right to ask him about his wellbeing, he kind of found it hard to keep on the same damned routine of university, and on top of that the unnecessary load of assignments he has to do, it makes him anxious just the thought of them.

but it doesn't matter now, he had another problem to fix...

Gray was never a fan of communication, and after today? he can sure label himself as the worst at communication, he shouldn't have yelled at her, he shouldn't have looked at her that way, she deserves better.

maybe if he could just end it.

"when you face a problem with someone you love, you harvest your self-hater and think that people deserve much better than you do, and then you end everything."

she heard him coming closer to her place, where she is swinging her legs from the rooftop. She would have been terrified if there wasn't another rooftop built right under it, so the fear of breaking a leg or two from a fall is impossible to happen.

she felt a heavy weight over her body, warmth embraced her as she slowly tugged the coat with her fingers, although she wasn't feeling the cold.

she saw from the corner of her eye,Gray shifting his position over the railing of the roof, leaving his legs dangling similarly as hers. she didn't have the courage to look at his face again, which made her frustrated to death, because the silence hanging between them was driving her mad.

should she say something? should she start by apologizing? she could if the heavy lump didn't pressure her from forming words.

"I'm sorry", she heard him say, oh so softly that made her heart hammer with speed.

why should he apologize when she started this whole mess? she opened her lips to argue against who's fault it was, but he beat her into it, " I didn't mean to yell at you"

Juvia finally turned her head to look at him, he was avoiding her eyes and instead looking blowing them, his black messy hair was moved by the wind of the season, and it made him look so ethereal.

she shook her head instead and looked below them as well. She noticed a small creature-probably a squirell- settling himself in one of the tree branches, enjoying his treat.

"Juvia is the one who is sorry, I shouldn't have listened to your conversation.."

" I could have just explained what you heard instead", this time their eyes locked at each other, she feels the heavy awkward air began to shift away alongside the wind.

she would be lying if she said that she wasn't curious about their conversation because she knows that if they don't discuss it right now she will be left with a sleepless night, yet she doesn't want to push him into pouring down his scars if he doesn't want to.

"Juvia doesn't want to pressure you-"

"I want to."

he interrupted her, and Juvia doesn't have a choice but to listen and give in into her curiosity impulse.

Gray took a breath, and Juvia felt the nervousness seeping from him, so she hesitantly offered her hand towards him, she doesn't know if he is comfortable about it or not, so an offering is better than a bold move, like she usually does.

He looked surprisingly at her hand and smiled slightly, grabbing her hand while interlocking their fingers together, "you usually just hold it, why are you being polite?" he said, pointing out the fact that she is impolite when it comes to showing her affection towards him.

Juvia snort:" for now I'll be polite "

she grasped his hand for reassurance, and smiled at him.

"well.." he began, "since you know that I didn't enjoy my life in Korea, and that I had to work a lot and study everyday like some slave, and why my mental health was dropping all the way down" , he stopped for a moment, breathing in through his nose, and exhaling; and Juvia waited patiently, she could even wait for ages she won't mind.

"I used something so I won't try and kill myself"

Juvia's worrying pit started expanding, making her whole body tense with the thoughts running over her head about her beloved hurting himself.

" I used to self-harm."

the blue-haired girl remembers the feeling of being absorbed by fear, how her whole body freezes whenever she encounters a crowd, how the fright will make her shiver non-stop and her mind draws blank. She is familiar with this.

but she never felt fear choking her being like right now.

self-harm.

just the thought of seeing her lover sinking those sharp razors to his wrist so he wouldn't try suicide as an option, she felt like crying.

Gray broke the eye contact between each other, realizing how much of a shock that might have been to her, she can sense how tightly he is holding her hand right now, as if she would run away from him any moment.

"i am sorry" he apologized, he looked dejected, and Juvia could maybe see a glimpse of his old self.

but why is he apologizing? does he think that she'll run away out of disgust from what he suffered? does he think that Juvia would leave him because he had other means to keep himself from dying?

"Do you think that Juvia will leave you?" Gray didn't glance at her, so she grabbed his chin with her hand, turning his head to look at his grey eyes, they were red, ready to brim with tears. "This isn't your fault, and ju via wouldn't even think of leaving your side after opening up to me."

she can feel the tone of her voice quiver, but she held it because her sweet lover man is the one who has the right to tear about it, not her, no matter how much she wants to.

"you are very brave my love." she said softly, cradling his cheek, which were cold under her hand. she knows that he won't believe it, not now at least, it might need time for him to realize how courageous and strong he is, she is aware that he went through this all alone.

"i am not going to leave you alone, Juvia promises on her life."

the lid broke and everything in it scattered out.

Gray cried silently, and Juvia brought his head into her chest, to cradle him from all the pain and the danger of the world, she can sense her own tears ready to fall like a rain shower.

they held each other tightly under the glimmer of the stars and the dark sky, while the whistles of the wind gave them a bittersweet shiver, but all they could feel was each other's warmth.

Gray wants to not give in into his self-blame tendency, and while it's hard, opening up to Juvia made him feel that something clicked, like a puzzle joining to fill a whole picture.

Juvia completes him.

and so they cried, their fingers still locked together and the time passed not knowing for how long they were in each other's embrace. and nobody broke their heartfelt moment.

#gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gray x juvia #fanfiction #attempt of writing #fairy tail #this fanfic lowkey has a universe i made by myself #wink wink

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bluejayblueskies · 2 years

Text

pov you're an arkham taxi driver

Rating: Teen and Up Category: Gen

Characters: Original Characters, John, Arthur Additional Tags: Outsider POV, Alternative Perspective, Second Person POV, Some Humor, (a bit tongue-in-cheek)

CW: ableist language, cults, and mentions of violence/murder

Read on AO3

The man who climbs into the back of your cab looks just like any other man living in Arkham. That isn’t saying much, of course, given that they all look like any other person until the shit hits the fan, but there truly is no way to tell. That said, when the man begins muttering to himself, you’re not surprised in the least. You’ve been doing this job for far too long, and you’ve seen far worse.

(Some things do not wash out of upholstery, which is a fact that you’ve come to know quite intimately. You have a strict no-fluids policy now, which you think is perfectly fair and reasonable of you. The horrors can go ooze all over the back of somebody else’s taxi, thank you very much.)

“What is this Dark World?” the man says. His voice is hushed but not hushed enough, like he thinks that just because you’re up here and he’s back there, you can’t hear him. Why do they always think that? “Wh-what does it look like? I…”

He stops, clearly listening to something that only he can hear. You watch him in the rearview mirror as you drive through the streets of Arkham. You know these roads like the back of your hand, and you know the people who walk them just as well. You recognize the quietly horrified expression that flashes across his face, there and gone like it had never been.

You’ve reached his stop. Normally, you might take the long way ‘round, stretch out the ride for some extra cash, because things are hard out there right now and you’ve got a family to feed. But there’s no point. This guy is so far inside his own head (literally? You don’t know how these things work) that he barely blinks when you tack on the extra dollar fee.

Look, it’s just good business practice. Somebody brings a whole host of weird spooky shit into your cab, they gotta pay for it. Like a convenience fee. It’s not like every other taxi driver in this godforsaken city doesn’t do it.

The man leaves the cab, still muttering to himself, dropping the coins absently in your outstretched hand as he goes. He even says, “Thank you,” which is more than you get half of the time. You twist in your seat to check, and—nope. No mysterious packages, no odd stains, no lingering smells. Not even a shiver down the back of your neck.

All in all, a perfectly pleasant interaction. You almost feel bad about the surcharge.

(Almost.)

Your taxi still smells faintly of smoked meat when you pick up the man who talks to himself. You’ve been doing this long enough now that you can identify one of these types of people pretty much on sight—the ones involved with things they ought not to be involved with. Still, given that your last passenger—decidedly mundane—thought it appropriate to eat in the back of your taxi and subsequently saturate it with foodsmell for the next few hours at least, you’re more inclined than usual to turn a blind eye to whatever’s currently happening in your backseat.

… That doesn’t mean you can’t eavesdrop, though.

That’s the thing, see—they never assume that you’re listening. It’s possible they do and they just don’t care, but after the third time somebody openly discussed murder in front of you on the way to their destination, you’ve come to the conclusion that your presence is negligible to them.

Well, that’s just fine. Preferable, even. The last thing you want is for any of these people to think that you pose a threat to them. You’d much prefer that your limbs stay attached to your body and at all the right angles.

Anyway. The man is a detective, you think. There are also plenty of those in Arkham, which makes sense; more supernatural criminals necessitate more people to stop them who aren’t afraid of a bit of spook. He mentions a symbol in an old house—his destination, you assume, not far at all from the bookstore—but the way he phrases it, it’s … like he’s talking to somebody else.

… Probably best not to ask. If a man hears voices in his head and deigns to talk to them in public, well—that’s his own business.

“I always valued my sight, obviously,” the man says after a moment, “as much as one can. But it’s quite a different thing to lose it altogether one day.”

He continues, but you’re not listening anymore. Instead, you’re looking back and forth between the road in front of you and the man’s reflection in your rearview mirror, eyebrows raised.

He’s blind? Funny, he doesn’t look it. His eyes dart around, taking in the interior of the cab, the scenery outside the window, focusing on specific things. If you squint, though, you think you can see the faintest yellow shine around his irises, like that of the stray cats that scurry across the road in front of your taxi when you have the night shift.

You don’t have time to think about it any longer, though, because you’ve reached the house. It looks just like any other house, but they all do on the surface. The evil lies deeper, uncovered only if you’re not smart enough to keep your nose where it belongs.

You’re smart enough. This man evidently is not.

Pity. He seems nice enough—gives you nearly twice the required fare, thanks you, doesn’t leave any smells behind as he departs. (Christ, the bar is low, isn’t it.)

The man walks inside the house, almost certainly to his own detriment, and you drive away. You don’t expect you’ll be seeing him again any time soon.

“Alright, well—I’m all ears. Tell me.”

You almost respond before you glance in the mirror and see that the man in the back of your taxi isn’t looking at you. He cocks his head slightly, as if … listening to something?

Then, he says, “So you think this religious sect had opened a gateway?” and you have to fight back a sigh.

It fucking figures that you’d be transporting another goddamned cultist. Or at least somebody involved with them. It’s been a week or so since you picked one up, and apparently, the universe has decided to mock you for your belief that maybe you wouldn’t have to do so again.

You hate driving cultists. Sometimes you can tell just by looking at them if they’re involved in all that bullshit, but most of the time, you have no idea until they’re ruining your entire day. You know what all the other taxi drivers say—charge more, mind your business, and you’ll be fine—and you listen, of course. The extra money is nice—means you can actually put food on the table for your kids—and not being dead is also a significant perk.

But you see, that’s the issue. You drive a taxi; this should not be a life-or-death situation kind of job.

You sneak another glance at the man in your backseat.

He looks a bit frazzled. “Yes, um, well…” He trails off, then recenters himself. “Uh, this beckons the question once again—who are you to have a religious cult open a gateway to another world just to bring you through?”

What the fuck?

“I continually brush off the very real and serious concern that you may be something more sinister, and you seem quite okay with that. I don’t know exactly what you are—”

What the fuck? Who the fuck is this guy?

You take your eyes off the road, just for a moment, to do a full sweep of your car. There’s nobody else here—just you and this unassuming man in a suit and tie who you’re now certain is either very mad or very, very cursed. You really hope it’s the former, but given all the other things that have crawled into the back of your cab (in some cases literally), you’re not optimistic.

Fucking hell.

… At least he’s not covered in blood.

You drop the man on the doorstep of Miskatonic University and drive off as quickly as you can. There. He and his cryptic mutterings are somebody else’s problem now.

Christ. You wish the economy weren’t in shambles. You could really use a new career.

You’ve been doing this job for a long time, so you don’t bat an eye when the guy in the back of your taxi starts talking to himself about kidnappings. So long as he keeps all his business back there and leaves you out of it, you’ll stay up here and mind your business. It’s the polite thing to do, really.

You do bat an eye, however, when you pull up to his address and there are police outside the building.

The arrangement you and the other taxi drivers have with the cultists in this town is as unshakable as it is unspoken. They pay extra for their fare, and you don’t drop them on the steps of the police station when they start discussing illegal shit or carry suspicious-looking packages into the back of the taxi with them. You leave them be, and they leave you be, and everything is all hunky-dory.

That agreement, of course, rests on ambiguity and plausible deniability. If anybody ever tried to bring an actual body into your taxi, or if you picked them up from an obvious murder scene or ritual sacrifice, then yeah—all bets are off. But generally, the cultists don’t want to end up behind bars any more than you want to end up buried six feet under, so it all tends to shake out all right.

This guy apparently didn’t get the memo. He’s staring at the cops wide-eyed, using every swear in the book, and it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s the reason they’re here if he stepped out of the cab and started shouting his confession to the wind.

“How can we calm down?” he mutters to fucking nobody. Yep, he’s off to the looney bin for sure. At least he can make an insanity plea once he gets arrested. “They—they’ve just found my partner, they’ve found his body … oh fuck—”

You resist the urge to turn and give this guy a what-the-fuck look. He knows you’ll have to make a report about this, right? Even if he gets out of the taxi right now and makes it past the police without being seen, he’s basically just confessed to fucking murder in front of you. You can’t not write this up. It wouldn’t be ethical.

As the man continues to ramble to himself, you rifle through the glovebox until you locate a pen and paper. You jot down the address and a quick description of the man. You’ve never actually had to make a report like this before—who would have thought, seeing something new in this town even after all these years—so you’re not sure what you’ll need. Best to be thorough.

As you’re studying the man’s face, he suddenly looks at you, wide-eyed. Before you can say anything, he pulls a random assortment of coins from his pocket and thrusts them towards you—Christ, five dollars, is that supposed to be hush money or something?—before practically fleeing the cab.

You stare at the coins for a moment, then at the paper in your hand, before shrugging, setting them both on the passenger side seat, and driving away.

You don’t know the man’s name, of course. But the police accept his address and description all the same.

There is a frazzled, frantic man in the back of your taxi, talking to himself, and you wish you could say that this is the weirdest thing that’s happened to you all day. But you’re pretty sure the guy who wore a white mask and said fuck all the whole ride holds that honor.

On the other hand, though, this man may have just confessed to murder? Some guy named Eddie? Or maybe whoever he’s talking to killed him—it’s a bit unclear. He’s clearly having a conversation with somebody, but there isn’t anybody else in the cab other than the two of you. Either you’re transporting a murderer (not ideal) or an insane person (also not ideal) or both (really not ideal).

But also, he’s almost certainly one of Arkham’s weird-as-all-hell cultists, so who knows. Maybe there is somebody back there, but they’re invisible. Or something.

You double the fare just in case.

You’re pretty sure the man is hyperventilating now. He keeps flexing the fingers of his left hand, staring down at it as he curls it into a fist and then uncurls it. The look in his eyes, a hungry sort of curiosity, is at stark odds with the horrified panic consuming the rest of him. It’s fucking unsettling.

At least the guy in the mask was quiet. And he tipped well.

It’s a low bar to be sure, but hey—money is money. You’ve gotta pay the bills somehow.

The man continues to study his left hand like it belongs in the fucking Met, and to be honest, it’s kinda starting to get to you. It’s funny; you’re hardly fazed by the murder confession, but everything else about this guy kinda makes your skin crawl. There’s something really freaky going on with him, and you want no part of it, you decide.

It’s a relief when you drop him off on the curb outside an abandoned old house and drive away. You wish you could tell yourself that you just won’t pick up people like him anymore, but you can’t. Aside from being utterly impractical, it’s not like you knew what he was going to be like until he climbed into your cab.

And besides, his money works just as well as anybody else’s. And god knows that’s all you can afford to care about.

The man from this morning is sitting in your taxi again. He looks different now—shaken, trembling, haunted. Like he’s seen a ghost, perhaps, or whatever spooky nonsense his kind of people get themselves involved in.

You’ll never understand it—why people join these cults. But you don’t have to. You just have to pick them up and drop them off and keep your mouth shut, and you excel at all three of those things.

You add the surcharge and start to drive. You recognize the provided address as the one you picked him up at a few hours ago—his house, maybe? You try not to be curious, but sometimes, you can’t help but wonder. Particularly when the man begins to talk to himself again, hushed but still very much audible, because it’s not like these cabs are soundproof, are you kidding?

“That is easy for you to say,” he says, sounding equal parts distressed and resigned. “I am losing pieces of myself. My ha—my hand is gone.”

You look in the rearview mirror. Nope; he still has two hands.

“My eyes are gone.”

And two eyes as well. Though they do dart around oddly, in a manner that doesn’t quite match what the rest of his body is doing.

“I don’t know what’s next to leave. For all I know, if you … if you take my mind entirely, I will no longer be able to think.”

Hm. You’re honestly not quite sure what to make of that.

You turn a corner. His building is just ahead.

Most of the other taxi drivers don’t believe in any of the horrible things that are rumored to lie just beneath the surface of Arkham. And they’re probably all the wiser for it, honestly. A good degree of skepticism is healthy in this job, he’s found. It helps you keep your distance, keeps you alive and kicking to see another day.

Still, it’s hard to watch these strange people get in and out of his cab and not believe, just a little bit, that there is something more to it all.

So, fuck it. Maybe there is some supernatural entity living in this guy’s brain or influencing him in some way. Maybe it controls him physically, or maybe it just makes him think that he’s being controlled. Some things are tricky like that, you’ve found—can make you see things that aren’t actually there.

Whatever the case, you … actually feel bad for the poor man sitting in your back seat. He’s clearly had one hell of a day. Exhaustion drags him down, and he gives you the distinct impression of somebody who was dragged kicking and screaming into the realm of the unnatural without being asked for permission. He smells a bit like blood and gunpowder. Normally you’d be put off by that, but it’s overwhelmingly surpassed by the pity you feel for this man.

However. As badly as you feel, as much as you pity him, there’s nothing in this world or any other that could convince you to get involved in his situation by choice.

So you drop the man off at 13 Mosby Avenue, alone in the rain, and drive away two dollars richer.

The last glimpse you catch of him is in the bright white of a lightning strike, high above in the clouds. He looks … taller, somehow. Like his shadow has peeled away from the ground and now looms ominously above, an unholy specter of darkness that winds around him like it’s trying to consume him utterly.

Then, you turn a corner and he disappears from view.

You blink a few times to dispel the image before pulling over to pick up another person who’s hailing you down. The two people who get in your cab seem normal, at least—a mother and her daughter, if you had to guess. They give you their address and then begin chatting quietly amongst themselves. All perfectly mundane.

Christ.

You really ought to retire, you think as you begin toward the next destination. It’s hard out there, and you’re lucky to have this job, but perhaps you’ve been doing this for too long if your eyes are starting to play tricks on you like that.

You ignore the voice in your head telling you that your eyes know exactly what they saw, just as you’ve ignored every other voice in your head over the past decade or so telling you that something is off, just as every other taxi driver has done and will continue to do. You drop off your passenger and pick up another, and if the one after that smells of sulfur and carries a black-stained backpack on their lap, well.

It’s really none of your business.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #john doe #arthur lester #my writing #my fic #been rolling this idea around in my head for a while and the dreamlands server inspired me to finally write it <3

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jacqcrisis · 1 year

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One of my favorite things in fanfiction about video games is how people work in game mechanics, which is what I would find interesting in a stardew valley fic. Like magic exists, and the farmer engages in it with the totems and the monsters and the junimos and the talking to fucking bears and getting a special boy sword in the desert with a cool rock. That's fascinating to include for a story about a character who comes to town where THE LOCALS DONT SEEM ALL THAT BOTHERED OR THEY JUST DONT NOTICE.

So the character of the farmer is a trans guy who's always been bigger, more chubby, and working a few years in an office job has only exacerbated that even if he tries to eat well and exercise when he can. He generally aloof, kind of weird, absolutely had adhd, nice once the social awkwardness around new people fades, an absolute nerd, and determinedly hard working. Despite doing okay in life, the ennui of the corporate world takes hold and something about his late grandpa's old farm has always captivated and called to him in a way he can't explain so when he finally opens that letter, he quits and buys a ticket to Pelican Town on the spot.

Obviously, the farm is a dump and barely has working plumbing but with a mindset of 'its either this or go back to the office', he sets himself to work, clearing out the overgrown fields and planting what little he can. This is his chance to remake himself after all; no one here knows he's trans, no one here knows he's kind of a goober, and no one here has to know anything more about him than what he lets them know. So he decides to present himself as the cool quiet type when he goes into town instead of the talkative annoying, red headed dweeb he actually is.

During his first month, the locals are kind of meh about him, the junimos make their appearance, the wizard makes him drink the Dank Soup, and some interesting things happen to the farmer's...physique in the following months that is both impossible and has him scared and then jazzed. After the first change, he goes to the wizard for help who calms him down and assures him its probably some kind of thanks/incentive from the forest spirits to keep him on track with helping them. With that, the farmer is even more determined to meets the junimos demands.

While the place is weird and weird shit keeps happening, he’s more than happy he moved out here as the first of his crops come in. The farmer gets settled into the town, meets all the locals, and that is where the second part of 'trouble' starts...(this the self indulgent part which is going under a read more)

It's during the first summer that the attitude of the local bachelors starts to change around the farmer. He's always been reserved, quiet, and yet nice around most of them, so for that first season, most didn't notice much. Yet, as if by magic, the farmer gets a bit taller, broader, stronger, and it becomes a lot harder to ignore him when he's hurriedly walking through town, trying to make it to Pierre's before it closes because he forgot to buy more seeds AGAIN.

Shane is the first to have a new opinion on the farmer. He gets kicked out of Marnies on one of his days off for being a depressive little shit and so he takes a walk half drunk into the woods but ends up on the path to the farm up north. Suddenly, he's doing this every Sunday, starting out sometime at noon with a six pack and all hushed up about what he's doing when Marnie asks which is, in fact, spending a few hours drinking and watching his aloof quiet neighbor work under the hot sun, often times shirtless. It's a late Sunday night in early fall after an awful work week when he works up the liquid courage to hop the fence and see if the farmer needs some kind of hand that has nothing to do with his crops.

Harvey starts having to see a lot of the farmer, especially when he starts going into the mines cause he's getting the shit beat out of him by slimes and bugs. So doc sees him in all states of wear and tear and undress and dear God is it something for the awkward doctor man who's finding out his exact type is muscular and chubby and happy to follow the doctor upstairs for a special kind of exam.

Elliott is listless in his search for inspiration but becomes fascinated by the burly new farmer who comes to the beach every few days to fish and check his traps. An odd man reminiscent of a romantic interest in a bodice ripper who rebuilds the broken bridge and gives Elliot any extra fish or crabs he's caught and who doesn't seem to mind when Elliott sits close by with pen and paper, covertly observing. A storm surprises them one fishing session in the winter and its out of the kindness in Elliott’s heart to offer a dry place to stay until the worst of it passes and if he asks for some personal assistance in garnering a different kind of inspiration, well that’s neither here nor there.

The farmer is seen a lot throughout the town, and someone as athletically conscious as Alex has had a wide range of judgements passed onto the farmer. First, a smug mocking opinion about this overweight, out of shape dude taking over a farm, and then one of amazement as the dude works hard at his job and gains more muscle and then finally, at the spa, something a bit more conflicted as he keeps stumbling upon the farmer disrobed and relaxing from a hard day’s work. Alex discovers a few things, most importantly that sound carries extremely well in the spa, but, thankfully, its just the two of them around to hear it.

Or so they think, as there’s one blonde who’s accidentally stumbled across a few illicit meetings of the farmer's and this latest one at the spa is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Sam bitches about it to Sebastian the next time they hang out, ranting and raving about how many times he’s seen the farmer inside some guy around Pelican Town. It’s not like he’s homophobic or anything, but holy shit, why is this always happening to him? Sebastian is kind of weird after hearing this, and actually leaves early because, well...

For Sebastian, he's gotten a very different side of the farmer than most everyone else. He's goofy, he's awkward, he's anxious, he can't sit still, he doesn't stop talking, and he seems to love dropping by and handing things off to Sebastian, whether it's food or something neat from down in the mines. At first, Seb thought he was kind of weird but they've become friends due to shared interests and he's slowly realized he's had a crush on the farmer for a while now and has been trying to figure out how to broach that topic or even just find out if the guy is into dudes at all.

Hearing from an annoyed Sam the farmer has literally fucked every other eligible bachelor in the Valley except him is soul crushing. He doesn't know how to take it and kind of avoids the farmer as he goes around to confirm that his friend and crush is indeed kind of a manwhore. The other four dudes confirm it, all of having hooked up with him anywhere from a few times (Alex) to several (Elliot) to a *shrugs* 'I stopped counting two hands ago' (Shane). Harvey isn't forthcoming with a number but it's somewhere close to Shane given how he mumbles something about ‘bi-weekly’.

His confidence somewhere in hell, Sebastian pretends not to care, realizes he cares a lot, gets a little drunk, and goes to confront the farmer...

And yeah. It's story that would incorporate the forest magic and the inherent weirdness of the game mechanics while also being smutty cause why the fuck not. Idk if I'll ever write it, but I think about and refine it whenever I play stardew valley.

#jacq writes #its a fun idea to me #the other sdv idea is a butch lesbian who only has eyes for haley and is actually cool #unlike dweebus supreme #he gets the shepherd dog #who he spends a lot of time yelling at #and he's always kind of fat #just gets stronk

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edgyandoverzealous · 1 year

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Forced Family Headcannons pt 3

Incredibly self-indulgent(meaning the entirety of Yellow Guy when sick is just me)and soft. Because I have been hella sick recently and have not recovered fully before another illness latched on.

• Yellow Guy's fevers run reallyyyy high. Like 104 on the average. But surprisingly doesn't complain about it. Mostly brags "I uh- I can lives through 104, no 105, 106 degree fevers :)" and konks out for 1-3 hour intervals.

• He's prone to chills and often feels cold rather than hot.

• Because of this when Yellow Guy is sick he becomes the biggest cuddle bug. Making nests out of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals that he burries himself in, especially when no one offers to cuddle him. (Because he's like me fr and I wish I was in my nest sleeping instead of an hour and a half away with people I am mostly uncomfortable around. But no I have to be up for four more hours so I'll sleep through the night)

• It's 50/50 whether or not Yellow guy will sleep through the night or wake up at weird intervals.

• Yellow takes his meds fine for the first few days before he starts whining about it. With a little scolding he'll take it on his own.

• Appetite? Who's she. Yellow only knows he's being forced to eat when he feels fine and wants to sleep. He is unamused.

• Duck Guy refuses to hold Yellow when he's sick. The germs are gross and he's a bit of a germaphobe when it comes to illness. He's in full scrubs, mask, and carrying/spraying disinfectant wherever he goes.

• Red Guy can't stand seeing Yellow so miserable and cold so he often ends up holding Yellow despite Duck's pleads and threats.

• Yellow Guy cries in his sleep when he's sick and doesn't realize it until he wakes up and his cheeks are wet.

• "Don't touch him you'll contract his disease" Duck's speech was muffled through what essentially was a hazmat suit as they stood outside Yellow's door. "But he's shivering and crying" Red's hand was firmly on the doorknob. "That's just the virus trying to lure you in, if you touch him you lose your spot in our bed." Duck was firm in his tone and confident in his delivery. "Hm." Red's eyes remained on the door where whimpers and sniffles could be heard coming from the inside. "What? He'll be okay once it's purged out." Duck crossed his arms and Red nodded half-heartedly. "Well I think I'm going to see you in a few days." Red twisted the doorknob and stepped inside hushing Yellow softly.

• When Duck is sick, he is in full denial albeit unsuccessfully. "It is freezing in this house and you're wearing shorts, go and change young man then it's mandatory cuddle time." The house is hotter than it has ever been and they think duck is insane.

• Even when Duck is shown his thermometer the symphony of "I'm not sick" and "I can still do a, b, and c."

• He cannot do a, b, or c. Red and Yellow have to do it for him.

• Biggest baby, complaining and refusing to do anything but be treated like royalty. "I can't do a, b, or c. Are you insane? I'm sick."

• Demonic auto tuned groaning arises from any dark warm location.

• Stops sleeping for anymore than 3 hour intervals. With a couple hours of consciousness in-between.

• Will not take his fucking meds. Has to have his kicking and screaming ass in a chokehold and forced to take it. Note: probably the reason he won't take it.

• Red successfully covers up the fact he's sick until he either throws up into dinner, throws it out in a huff, and angrily orders pizza before stomping to his room or Duck realizes his househusband is a little too toasty for his liking.

• A mop wearing a blanket roaming the house for a few days.

• Insists on doing things as normal. It takes him twice as long.

• Downs medicine like a champ. Always and forever. Under the weather? Medicine. Obviously.

• Once he's asleep. He's asleep dead to the world and will not be woken up for the next twelve hours.

• Makes the others worry ten fold. Eventually Duck knocks him out and makes him rest and recover properly. Full doctor in a hospital style. Clipboards with vitals, symptoms, and medicines/how the medicine affects Red. Medicine every four hours exactly and Yellow brings in meals and sits on Red's bed for an hour or so talking about how everything is going on. More often than not Duck steps in to remind yellow not to raise Red's blood pressure or make him nervous.

#dhmis yellow guy #dhmis duck guy #dhmis red guy #dhmis headcanons #dhmis forced family au my beloved

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paynewriting · 3 months

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And the end of Ask the Characters for the year with this question. It has been a genuine delight and we are hoping to repeat it next year around the same time. Thanks to the folks that have taken part and we hope people enjoyed these little insights into our cast. So, without further ado, Charlie's question for Leonastra:

I know you can’t have children naturally but have you and Ruby considered adopting?

Ruby:

So, I guess it should be mentioned I have sired children. They aren't exactly my children, but I do keep in touch with them, I am more than happy to know them and have advised or supported a few over the years, or just sat down and talked to the ones who wanted to know a bit more about where they came from.

Leonastra:

They have even started coming to visit us more recently.

Ruby:

Well that was because Devon came out and met Bruce and now folks want to come meet the weird dragons with their pet bear.

Bruce:

[Interested grumbling noises]

Ruby:

Yes, you, you giant loaf.

Leonastra:

I will say, they are sweet, the visitors that we get. Normally grown, or at least in their teens. I wonder if the fact they are all visiting by choice also helps.

Ruby:

I would say so. They are here for something. Not like, asking a favour something, but to find something out about themselves from who I am, and even if that's not what they expect, it's never gone down badly.

Leonastra:

You're happy knowing them like that though? And its agreed with the parents.

Ruby:

Of course, I don't mind helping families have the child they want, and I wouldn't deny them knowing me. But I'm not ready to raise children. I still feel like one some days, just eating cheesy flatbreads and cuddling Bruce.

Leonastra:

Isn't that just Faldays?

Ruby:

Oh hush.

Leonastra:

Honestly though, as one might infer from the fact I've only recently found out I can't have children, it's not been an interest of mine. I don't mind having a little role in raising them. Being part of the community here means taking a role in that. But I'll confess, when the little ones start crying, or the ones that can walk start running around, I'm glad I get to go home to only one, huge, misbehaving individual.

Ruby:

Agreed, it's more than enough.

Leonastra:

And Bruce too of course.

Ruby:

Hey!

Leonastra:

Seriously though, the thought hadn't even really occurred to me. I am more than happy with the family I have.

And with that, thank you very much for joining us this year, hope to see you for the next, and if you want more in the meantime consider all the different ways to connect with us and the big backlog of stories.

#writing #teryte chronicles #fantasy #dragons #ask the characters #answered #worldbuilding

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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Everything Has Changed- Part 2

Pairing: Faye (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: After a few weeks of ease, Custer shows up suspiciously, Custer and her sharing a few hushed words that raise some flags. Ash finally explains Custer's random appearance and the insertion of his girlfriend into their home life. What comes out in that conversation is eye opening to the reader,

Song: "Toxic" by Britney Spears

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, sexual thoughts, swearing, mentions of drugs, mention of murder and violence.

A/n: Hiiii guys! Here's part two, I'm really hoping you guys enjoyed part 1, I was really proud of it.

Ash eventually forgave Fez for coming home with Faye.

It took a few weeks, Ash’s pouting finally easing up at the mention of sharing a blunt with the pretty blonde, the drug being a sort of olive branch, if you will. He continued to ignore Fez and give him angry, intimidating glances from across the room every once in a while, but Fez told me that he understood. Ash hated when Fez didn’t bring him in on things, when he didn’t open up and involve him in household decisions. Fez rarely did this so of course it was upsetting for Ash, he had always been the one that Fez would go to (after me) to get an opinion because he made it clear that he valued his little brother’s ideas.

It was perfectly okay for Ash to question if Fez still trusted and valued him as a business partner.

What wasn’t sitting well with me were the secrets that Fez was harboring, telling me repeatedly that he would ‘tell me when he’s ready’. Fez has always been a shit liar, especially when it comes to me. He could never correctly lie to me or keep a secret without telling on himself and he had been this way since we were kids. He wanted me to be in the know and he wanted it to be simple.

Something about this situation, Custer and Faye, was hinky, something was wrong. I can tell from his anxious breaths, the way his phone constantly buzzes and pings throughout the day and the weird looks that Faye and him share that give insight into the fact that something deeper is going on compared to the normal, shallow bullshit.

I’d figure it out eventually.

“So, do you, like, babysit them? Like what’s the fucking dynamic here cuz I’m really confused?” Faye laughs, pointing to the boys who sit at the table, money being counted between them. I nod my head slowly with a proud smile, my fingers holding the blunt out to Faye as she takes it happily. She’d been off of heavy drugs for the last few weeks, her memory and simple conversations improving by a lot. She had opened up a bit more, growing more confident with me especially but also the two boys. She seems overall more happy and clear headed and it’s safe to say that she’s been enjoying her stay here.

Since she moved in, I have spent a total of three nights at my own apartment, not wanting to not be around her. I had this compulsion to spend time with her, to smoke with her, learn everything I could about her. She’s answered all of my questions so far, asking her own in return. We were steadily becoming friends without an issue but one thing we had yet to talk about was the thing I was most interested in.

Custer.

“Yeah, I’ve got a tight leash on the two of them. Especially Ash.” I chuckle, looking over at my shoulder at the boy who sends daggers at me through his gaze. I just send him a wink, my eyes fluttering back to Faye as she sighs, running a hand through her hair. Her blue eyes twinkle as she looks out the window, my cheeks warming just at the simple sight of her. She’s gorgeous, beyond belief, strong to survive addiction and kinder than most people give her credit for. She’s explained that a lot of people believed her to be some ‘stupid bimbo’ but I quickly learned that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s silent, smart, and strong; just like Fez and how he appears to everyone else are us and how he has since we were little.

“Ayo, are you talkin’ shit over there?” Ash asks, turning in his chair with a sassy look. Faye looks at me with wide eyes, her lip tucking between her teeth as she hides her laugh. I snort, watching as Ash cracks a smile, his tough exterior breaking for a moment as Faye holds in her giggles. It was almost like we were normal, like we weren't dealing and selling drugs, like our lives weren’t a series of violent acts and distrust.

A knock on the door snaps us out of our giggles, Fez’s head immediately turning to look at the door, none of us moving. “Ayo it’s Custer!” The man yells, a loud, audible groan leaving my lips as I fall back onto the couch dramatically. Faye chuckles at my drama, reaching over to pat my leg simply as she stands. My eyes watch her, trailing over her body as she moves towards the door, her stride slowly considerably, hesitantly stopping in front of the door as Custer continues to knock. Ash turns to me, his once smiley expression disregarded, now being taken over by a firm frown, knowing that he’s in for an earful from Custer and a whole lot of frustration.

The door opens, revealing the scrawny man, his arms immediately wrapping around Faye, my frown deepening as my glance meets Fez’s. A wave of confusion crashes over his face at my annoyed look, the sound of Custer whispering quiet nothings to Faye making me cringe. His look is knowing, telling me that he has an idea as to why I’m so pissed, a small laugh rumbling in his chest. He shakes his head at me, warning me silently to not fall too deep for her, knowing that it would only complicate things further.

Why is it that all of the people that I've had feelings for are untouchable?

Custer steps further into the home, his eyes locking with mine as he tilts his head teasingly at me. A scowl returns to my lips, quickly spinning around in my seat to wallow in silence. I hear him share a few words with Fez and Ash, Faye returning to my side, sitting down a bit closer to me than she originally was seated, my cheeks warming at the proximity.

My eyes flicker over to her, lingering a bit on her bare thighs, a small laugh leaving her lips as she catches me. Her eyes flicker back to Custer as she crosses her legs, her hands soothing over her soft, pale skin. My mouth practically waters at the sight, the fact that she’s obviously doing it on purpose- in front of her asshole boyfriend- making my mind spin with naughty thoughts.

“Y/n.” Custer acknowledges me simply, sitting down in the chair to my right as I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back the copious amounts of insults I want to throw at the man. My eyes lift to his, his gaze unreadable as he motions between Faye and I. “You guys getting along?” He asks, Faye snorting behind me as I lean towards him, my elbows resting on my knees as I smile smugly.

“Yeah, you could say that.” I whisper back in reply, my eyes slitted as his eyebrows tick up a bit, curious and confused as I continue to stare him down. He can tell I’m sizing him up, apparently Ash realizing this too as he joins us in the living room, sitting down directly across the room from Custer, his hands folded in his lap. “Why are you here?” I ask, leaning back against the couch cushion as Faye tucks her knees up to her chest, her whole body turned to me as she rests her head against the pillow beside me. If she was any closer, her head would be resting safely on my shoulder.

“Just came to visit my lovely girlfriend. Should there be another reason?” He shrugs, a sly smirk on his lips that makes me fight the urge to grab him by the front of the shirt, take him outside and curb stomp his ugly ass. Fez steps up behind me, leaning against the couch as tensions rise, ready to verbally hold me back from making matters worse.

“Oh, you mean the girlfriend you couldn’t take care of so you sent her here?” I ask, Faye laughing quietly beside me as Custer’s gaze turns deadly, my brows raising tauntingly, asking- begging- for him to say something, to start something so I could finish it.

It wasn’t like I’ve been waiting for months -years- to set him straight.

Oh wait. I have.

“You got some savior complex now, huh, kid?” He asks me, Fez taking a sharp breath in at Custer’s words, my jaw gritting as my heart thumps angrily against my ribs. “You’re just taking in strays? Fixing them up and shit.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head as sighs mockingly. “Riddle me this, if you're such a good friend then why do you think that Fez is in this situation that he's in in the first place, same with munchkin over here-” He cuts himself off with a laugh as he motions to Ash, my eyes catching Faye as her face falls. “I’m just saying. What’s got you thinking that you can fix my girl over here?” The anger builds up in my system just enough, the pettiness that I’ve harbored for weeks, months and years against this kid all comes down to my next words which are chosen very carefully.

“I don’t know man, she’s sleeping in my bed, isn’t she?”

A few beats go by, silence consuming us as Faye watches me carefully, our eyes meeting in a tense moment. Ash looks proud, his eyes drawn down to the strings on his sweatpants that he fiddles with, Fez now making his way around the couch and into the living room completely to finally become some sort of mediator. Custer’s lips are parted in shock, knowing damn well what I meant by that and the weight behind my words has him speechless. His eyes move from mine to Faye’s, betrayal and curiosity behind the murky hues.

“Maybe you should go, man.” Fez chimes in, taking us all off guard, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall. Custer sighs loudly and the noise makes me want to snap his neck, his whole presence irking me at this point. We all watch Custer as he scoffs, rolling his eyes tiredly before turning to look at Faye as he nods briefly and slowly, as if he was contemplating something. There’s still something unreadable about him and how he’s acting, too compliant and too cool, too calm.

“I’ll go,” he pauses, relief filling me as our eyes meet in a heated standoff, “ but after I talk to my girl.” He replies sternly, my stomach twisting painfully as Faye sighs, standing up to motion to Custer. I gawk up at her agreement, sad that she would ever agree to speak to him after how he’s acted towards her in the past. It makes me sick to think about them in the same room together, without me there to slap him silly and stand up for her if she needed it. I’m well aware that she can take care of herself, being smarter than anyone gives her credit for. “Thank you.” Custer pouts like a child, taking her hand as he shoots daggers at me, my whole body turning to watch them leave the room. My fingers immediately move to fist my hair, annoyance radiating from me as Ash moves to sit down next to me on the couch, his hand rubbing up and down my back. Both of my boys can tell that Custer’s presence was beyond difficult for me to process, now adding Faye’s undeniable, unwavering trust in him killing me. Fez sighs as he does the same, taking Custer’s seat beside me.

“We gotta tell her.” Ash mutters suddenly, my head flying up to look between the boys. My lips part wordlessly as Fez nods, reaching up to rub his hands over his head as Ash sighs. They had been keeping something from me and I was right, I’m always right. I had been telling Faye that there was something more to her staying with us, that it went beyond just simple business and that there was something more cynical behind the whole move. She believed me for sure but struggled to see that Custer could be behind it. I think in her head, he was just some lowlife who really couldn’t do much, even if he put his mind to it. But I don’t think she gives him enough credit for all the fucked up shit he’s done, but then again, maybe she didn’t know.

Maybe she was completely ignorant to the fights, the drug deals, the harassment he’s thrown at women, and the disgusting words that have left his mouth in regards to Fez, Ash and I.

I watch as Ash rolls his shoulders as he looks for the right words, the gears visibly turning behind his eyes as a guilty expression covers his face. “I’m gonna say this all really quick, you’re gonna process it and we’re not gonna fucking talk about it again, ‘lright?” He asks, my brows pulling together in confusion at his stern order but I nod nonetheless, needing to know what they had truly been hiding from me this whole time. “I killed Mouse, Fez covered for me but Custer was there, it’s how he broke his nose. I broke it- with a hammer.” He huffs, shoving his face into his hands as he groans, my heart swelling with pride at the knowledge that he was the one who hurt Custer, but the confusion still outweighs any other emotion. “Custer backed us into a corner with Faye cuz she pushed some motel manager over a fucking railing and accidently fucking killed the guy and Custer said if we didn’t help her that he would bring his ‘proof’ to the police and get me and Fez arrested.” He concludes, my eyes looking to Fez for clarification but he nods, confirming any of my suspicions. “Now we're done talking about it. But it was time you fucking knew so stop tryna fuck his girlfriend and stop tryna get a rise outta him-”

“Hey-”

“No.” Ash points at me, my lip jutting out in a pout as he pats my back. The door opens down the hall, Faye appearing moments later, her face as pale as a ghost. Custer follows closely behind her, not giving us another glance as he makes his way out of the living room, the front door opening and slamming with aggression that makes me jump. Faye stands in the middle of the room as she sighs, my brows pulling together out of concern. Fez clears his throat after a few moments, my eyes flicking to him with concern as he speaks up.

“Anyone wanna smoke?”

Pulling the covers over my shoulders, I roll over for the hundredth time. I’ve been listening to Faye tap on her phone, the buzz from the marijuana wearing off of everyone, now being the time for us to rest our eyes and go to sleep.

But I couldn't sleep.

It had bothered me that she never spoke about what she and Custer talked about when they were alone, the contents obviously freaking her out and scaring her enough that she was sworn to silence the rest of the night. She could barely look at me, her eyes low and focused on the floor while we were smoking, occasionally laughing at one of Fez’s attempts to make her crack.

My eyes flutter shut at the thought of her harboring something that made her upset, just wanting her to talk about it, to tell me. I stare at the wall as I hear the sheets on the bed crinkle and fold as she moves, wanting nothing but to be in bed next to her, wanting to hold her and tell her that Custer's fucked up for how he's treated her all this time and how it's fucked beyond belief. Maybe hearing that out loud would send her running for the hills and straight into my arms.

Selfish, I know.

“Hey.” Turning around, I spot Faye standing over me, watching as she lowers herself to the ground beside me silently, pulling her blankets with her. She lays down next to me, taking the time to relax into the new surface before turning to me. I roll onto my side, mirroring her as I gulp, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. She watches the movement wordlessly, her eyes curious and wide in the low light. She looks sad though, her eyes twinkling a bit with unshed tears as she sniffles, a bashful smile appearing on her lips.

She seems nervous, her fingers reaching out to gently play with mine, toying with the rings around my shaky digits. She just swallows nervously, thoughts running rampant behind her pretty eyes as she looks for something to say. Not that she needed to fill the empty space between us with words, but I can tell that she’s finally considering telling me what was wrong and what truly happened.

“I don’t think I wanna be with Custer anymore…”

I’m sorry-

What?

“He’s a really bad person, Y/n…” She trails off, reaching up to wipe her tears before slipping her hand back into mine as I watch her intently, completely shocked and at a loss for words. I try to push down my excitement as she sighs, her eyes finding mine once more. “You don’t like him, I can tell. He doesn’t like you too much either but…” I laugh, my grin proud. Thank fucking god, I'd be concerned if he wanted to be my best fucking buddy. “He’s the one who got me so hooked on drugs, I fucking couldn’t leave him cuz I was so doped up. I didn’t even know it was fucking New Years this year cuz I was so high and thought it was still fucking Halloween.” She whimpers through a teary laugh, trying to brush it off but I shake my head, instinctively reaching up to cup her cheek, catching her attention. "Fucking traumatizing." She cries, my heart breaking in my chest as I nod, realizing there's so much to their story than just him being an ass.

“It’s not your fault.” I whisper, my eyes flickering back and forth between hers as she smiles sadly and wholeheartedly.

“I knew you’d say that.”

================================================

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#euphoria #fezco #euphoria series #fezco x reader #fez #fez x reader #ashtray #faye euphoria #faye season 2 #faye euphoria x reader #faye fluff #euphoria angst #euphoria fluff

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blueseasfanfics · 3 years

Text

Some Affection

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Description: Loki calls you into his room after your work as his maid has ended. He's acting weird, and ends up wanting your company and some affection. You find out, he's way more affectionate than he lets on. So gentle, lots of fluff.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm feeling much better today. Managed to bake and everything. Here's another Loki fic set in Asgard, where you're working for him. I'm still open for requests too! You can see my full list of fandoms in my bio. And for longer, personalized commissions, at the link below. Hope you have a good day!

Want to support me for only $3 or commission a personal fic from me? Incredibly personalized and great prices! Check out my ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/starryeyedalien

-------

Loki had called you from your rooms by terrifying a courier boy into doing it.

It’s after your bedtime, your working day is all over. You’re in a nightgown, for Odin’s sake.

The child came to your door, shivering.

“M-master said he wishes to see you at once.”

You and Loki had an...odd relationship. One that would have been looked down upon by the court, being as you were his servant and him a Prince and all. It wasn’t even that romantic, but it was closer than it should be.

You shouldn’t be calling him just Loki for example. Even in your head.

You both still had to put up appearances.

But making a child like this cry was out of the question.

“Hush, I’ll be there in a moment. Come in and sit, have some hot chocolate.” You say sweetly to the child, beckoning them inside your tiny quarters and giving them a cup you had made for yourself.

“Stay here until you feel better.” You smile and they nod, smiling back, and you leave.

On your long walk to Loki, you stewed. He didn’t need to yell at all, considering it was the boys job to courier messages. And the fact the boy was ten.

Your footsteps are loud against the tile flooring, the sound echoing against the empty walls.

Hel. He could have come to get you himself. It’s not like anyone else dares to be near him, no one would have seen.

You come upon his door, a huge wooden thing that reached up to the ceiling. Carved into it were his various exploits. You find a new one every time you come to his door. You don’t have the patience to find the new one this time however, and you knock sharply on the wood.

It opens at the first knock, and Loki is on the other side. He’s mildly bedraggled, face paler than usual and hair out of it’s usual neat setting.

“You have a lot of nerve-'' You start to hiss but he just walks away from the door, leaving it open for you. In a huff you come in, closing it gently behind you, before whirling around to yell at him.

Instead, you find him sitting in a large armchair facing the window on the opposite wall.

He had never outright ignored you before.

You come up slowly behind him, looking out the window with him. It shows half of Asgard, the bustling city and people, and half is of the sea. Tranquil and blue. The sun is just now setting on the horizon.

“Sir?” You say, worried about what kind of mood he was in.

“You were getting ready to yell at me earlier. I thought I should have a nice view when you do.”

“Are you alright?”

“What are you angry at me about?”

“You made the boy cry.”

“Not my intention.”

“Sort of hard to make a child cry without reason.”

“He wouldn’t go get you. Said you went to bed for the day. I may have gotten a bit nasty.”

“And?”

“And I will apologize to him in the morning.”

“Good.” You say slowly, confused. He never just laid back like this, let you dictate what he was going to do. He loves to bicker. To talk in general, really. But he was incredibly quiet, and it was unnerving.

“Why did you-”

“Get me a drink, will you?” He waves a finger over to his liquor cabinet, and you take little time in pulling out his favorite and pouring him a glass. You pour it tall, and when you bring it to him and he takes the first drink, he deeply sighs.

“Thank you.”

“Is that-”

“Come in front of me.”

After a bit of hesitation, you stand in front of him. You feel awkward blocking the window, but he simply drinks and looks at you. His legs are splayed, and he’s half slumped in the chair. He isn’t as princely, poised, as he usually is.

His eyes are missing the spark they usually have. He’s looking at you but he’s almost looking through you, and at some point he just closes his eyes and rubs a temple with a long finger.

“Loki?” You say softly.

“Mm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Not exactly.”

“Is there something I can do to help?”

He stays silent for a moment more, then drops his hand to the arm of the chair and looks at you again.

“Get on my lap.”

“What?! You cannot possibly expect-”

“Gods, no, not that. You have such an impure mind. Just...touch me. I need…”

“Affection?”

“How emotive of you. Yes. Affection.” His voice is soft, and when you hesitate again he holds out his hand to you.

You take it and he tugs you easily onto his lap. You try to climb on it as elegantly as you can, straddling him while also keeping some distance from him.

Even closer to him, you see the exhaustion and sadness etched in his face. The sun behind you has descended into a deep orange, plunging the room into deeper and deeper darkness.

He takes another sip from his glass, then looks back at you. Even being inches from his face, you don’t feel nervous at all. You reach out and touch his cheek, and he nestles his hand in your palm and closes his eyes.

This is a side to Loki you’ve never seen before. You don’t think anyone’s ever seen it before.

Completely and utterly vulnerable. You wrap your arms around his neck.

Bringing yourself up against his chest, his free hand wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close to him. You lay your head on his shoulder as he does the same to you, his face in your neck.

He sets the drink down on the table next to him, and his other arm wraps around your waist too.

You think of saying something to break the silence, but he seems so tranquil just holding you that you don’t want to disturb him.

Plus, you find this incredibly calming as well. He smells like mint and mountain air, and the warmth from his embrace is lulling you to sleep.

He must have noticed because he pulls away from you slightly.

“You seem tired.” He murmurs, and you shake your head.

“I’m here for you, I’m awake.” You say, but then you yawn.

“Ah yes, yawning because you’re fully awake.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

He studies you from just a few inches away, then pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re an odd one.” He murmurs.

“Should I take that as an insult?”

“Some would say it as an insult. I say it out of kindness.”

“Oh, a compliment from Sir Loki. My favorite thing in the world.” You say sarcastically.

“I thought your favorite thing in the world was a horse.”

“Same difference.”

“Are you calling me a horse?”

“As a compliment.”

He chuckles, and you smile. He seems ever so slightly back to his normal self.

“Loki, are you alright?”

“I just had a long day. I needed a drink and some company.”

“How about some sleep?”

He thinks for a moment, looking into your half-lidded eyes. He nods, standing up easily with you still in his arms.

You tighten your grip on his neck out of surprise, which makes him chuckle again.

“I won’t drop you.” He murmurs into your ear as he brings you to his bed, letting you down slowly. You quickly get comfortable under his blankets and he slides in next to you after taking off his shirt.

He faces away from you, and you look at his back. Still littered in scars you couldn’t identify nor want to.

Hesitantly, you slide your hand around his waist, pressing yourself against his back. He lets out a deep breath, and you close your eyes.

You fall asleep to the smell of mint and the sound of his steady heartbeat.

You wake up alone in bed, with the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Let The Walls Break Down

Summary: Calum gets over his skepticism

Word Count: 2.7k

And away, and away we go!

“It’s almost impossible. Love sucks. Don’t try it. It’s a scam.”

That had been Calum’s general thoughts on relationships since the two of you called it quits. The “almost” bit was in admittance that 1.) your relationship had been amicable from start to finish, in fact the two of you were still close with each other, and 2.) he knew love worked for some people, however he didn’t view himself as one of those some.

Being close to Calum post breakup meant you had a front row seat to the man’s brief stints at romance, which was a nice way of saying “endless stream of one night stands.” The flip side was he had a front row seat to your own count of nameless men. While in the beginning, the others in your friend group joked in hushed tones that it was an act on both your parts to stir up jealousy, the longer it went on without any animosity building up between you and Calum, the more the whispers died down until they disappeared all together. Because the simple truth was that the one night stands were just about sex. After all, you and Calum had learned together that the two of you were too busy for anything more than casual sex. A lesson both of you considered well-learned until Michael got engaged and flipped everything into a new perspective.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love,” you said after Crystal recounted all the details and you stopped squealing in excitement for her. “I mean, anyone who sees you and Michael has to believe it’s real.”

“Aw, Y/N,” Crystal blushed shyly.

You laughed, “I’m serious. You and Michael. Luke and Sierra. Ashton and Kaykay. I’m surrounded with reasons to believe love exists. The real ‘can’t imagine my life without you’ kind of love. But for me?” You waved a hand dismissively. “Pfft, nah.”

“Because you don’t believe he’s out there for you, or because you already had him and the timing was wrong?” she pressed suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. Right person, wrong time was the excuse you had given when asked when you and Calum split, because to you, it was the closest thing to the truth. “Okay…” you started slowly. “Of course I loved Cal. And I still love him now. But when we were together… We were kids who were focused on our careers. And we’re still those career-driven kids. Understanding the balance between professional life and personal life without feeling like we’re sacrificing a piece of it for another was something Cal and I will never master. We tried. I thought if I could find that balance with anyone, it would be with him. But it wasn’t. And that’s okay. I’m fulfilled in other ways.”

“But…” Crystal kept trying to press.

“But nothing,” you laughed. “I’m happy with my life the way it is, Crys. And beyond happy for you and Michael. You’re getting married!”

~~~

Across town in a celebration of their own, Calum was under similar fire. “Happy for ya, mate,” Calum said, clapping Michael on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael beamed. “I think I’m still in shock from all of it.”

“I think that’s probably a natural feeling,” Ashton told him, playing the voice of reason. “It’s an exciting change that pulls things into sharper focus.”

“Yeah, like all I wanna do now is tell Sierra how much I love her,” Luke put in.

“Oh, you fuckin’ sap,” Calum laughed.

“Just because you’ve never been in love…”

“I have too!” Calum defended.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Y/N, idiot…” Ashton told Luke with a roll of his eyes.

Luke nodded in a “Oh, yeah!” fashion, before going on, “Is she the only girl you ever loved?”

“Yep.”

“So why aren’t you still with her?”

Calum shrugged. “Timing was off. And we haven’t changed. So why would the timing have suddenly changed?” The question was rhetorical, without the slightest hint of hurt. A simple fact of life, nothing less, nothing more. A fact Calum had made peace with long before.

“So what? You’re fine with the greatest love of your life being over 2 years ago?” they questioned anyway.

He shrugged again. “Have been for a while, in case ya haven’t noticed. And no,” he raised a hand, cutting off any protest, “this isn’t a bitter, ‘oh convince me otherwise’ deal. Y/N and I are both more than happy with the lives we’re living.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I talk with her, and I trust she’s telling me the truth…”

“Alright, alright,” Ashton was willing to let the conversation rest, but he had one last question. “Is there any part of you that would want to try again with Y/N?”

A third and final shrug. “I mean, she was the only one I ever saw a future with aside from the band.”

“That has to mean something, Cal. C’mon. If there was ever a time to give love a chance, it’s now.”

~~~

While Calum’s head raced with his friends' words of encouragement, if he could call it that, yours raced with thoughts of feeling like you somehow failed in life. Sure, your career was everything you wanted it to be and more. You wouldn’t trade a single moment of your life for anything else. But now that your friends were clearly doing more than simple dating, the doubt started to trickle in. Would it be nice to share a life with someone? Absolutely. But not at the risk of your own independence. And the only person who had ever proven that you could maybe have the best of both worlds was Calum. And even that hadn’t worked. But maybe there was something to Crystal’s words about it being a case of bad timing. Maybe it was worth another try.

So that’s where you found yourself, sitting on the edge of your bed, sharing at Calum’s contact, finger hovering over the call icon, trying to figure out where and how to start again with the man. And then your phone was buzzing in your hand, and you gasped. Had you accidentally hit the call button?! No. Calum was calling you. Confused, you hit accept. “Hey, Cal. What’s up?”

“Not much. Just had a quick question for ya.”

“Well I might have a quick answer for ya.”

You heard his soft chuckle and then a brief pause as he cleared his throat, and you knew he was pushing a hand through his hair, stemming whatever nerves this “question” was creating. “You got any dinner plans for Friday?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s this new place I’ve been wanting a try, and you know how I am about eating out alone. And it’s been a minute since just the two of us hung out. So I’ll pick you up at 7?”

You gave a small laugh at the rushed excuse, wondering what he was really up to. “Sure thing, Cal.”

“Cool. Oh, and uh, dress in something nice-ish? The restaurant’s kinda uppity.”

Another small laugh. “Alright, Cal. See you Friday then.”

~~~

“It’s just dinner. It’s just Cal,” you told your reflection as you finished getting ready. “Nothing you haven’t done a million times before,” you kept trying to calm the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. While you had a pretty good idea on what this dinner really was, you didn’t want to get your hopes up that Calum was having the same change of heart that you’d been having. The man really did hate eating alone at restaurants, and if the place was as upscale as he had told you, then it made sense that he’d rather bring you along than Ashton. And he had been right about it being a good while since it was just the two of you spending time together rather than a larger group outing.

But when Calum knocked on your door rather than texting that he was in your driveway, you couldn’t stop the blush coloring your cheeks. And when you opened the door to reveal the man on the other side, dressed sharply with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand, you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh, Cal,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, taking the flowers and moving to put them in a vase of water.

“It’s how you deserve to be treated,” he said simply with a shrug as he leaned against your doorway.

“You’re too sweet to me, Hood,” you teased lightly. “Ready?”

“After you.”

When he went as far as to get the car door for you, you had to laugh. “Okay, Hood. What gives?”

“I told you. I’m treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“Nah, there’s more. I can tell. C’mon. Spill it,” you pressed when he got in the driver’s seat. “Flowers. Getting the door. Dinner at a place that requires me to dress like this. You’re up to something.”

“You look stunning, by the way,” he said, reaching over to give your thigh a squeeze.

“Calum Thomas Hood.”

He sighed. “We were good, right? Like when we were together? It’s not my memory playing tricks on me?”

“You were the best boyfriend I ever had,” you answered honestly.

He nodded. “Okay. You’re not allowed to make fun of me. But since Mike got engaged, it’s gotten to me a bit. Almost like I’m missing out on something, but it’s weird because my life is already everything I want it to be. So what could I possibly be missing out on, you know?”

“Why would I make fun of you for that?”

“Because it’s a stupid ass reason to take you on a date.”

“Oh, is that what this is? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “Look, I guess what I’m saying is, recent events made me reevaluate things in my life. And I think I’m in a better position than I was a few years ago to be a real partner to someone. And even when I wasn’t that person, you were the only one I could see myself becoming that person for. So… if you’re up for it, I’d really like for us to try again.”

Underneath the streetlight casting him in a soft reddish hue, he turned his head slightly to look over at you, brown eyes hopeful and solemn. When the light turned green, he turned his attention back to the road, but kept stealing glances over at you, still waiting for your response.

“I guess it’s only fair to let you know that I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

The corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” you said with a soft smile and a small nod of your head. “I was actually hoping this was more on the date side than the friends grabbing a bite to eat side.”

“Good, because this is definitely a date.”

“Good,” you nodded again before leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his cheek, grinning as warmth spread across his face.

~3 Years Later~

You startled awake at a phone ringing nearby, a tangled mess of limbs and bedsheets. “Mmm?” Calum rasped, voice heavy with sleep as he answered the phone, followed by a quick, “Whoa, mate, stop yelling. You did what now?” There was a small pause as whoever was on the other end of the conversation spoke in a rapid flurry that you couldn’t decipher. “You did?!” Calum clarified whatever the news was, sitting up straight in bed, your head falling from his chest to his lap.

“Ow…” you giggled, shifting to sit up against the headboard like Calum was.

“Sorry,” Calum mouthed, listening intently to whoever he was still talking to, raising a finger for you to give him a minute when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. “That’s fuckin’ great, Luke! Congrats to the both of you. Lemme know what the plans are for celebrating and give Sierra a hug from me in the meantime, yeah? Alright. Talk to ya later, mate. Bye.”

“Well?” you demanded.

“Luke and Sierra are getting married. Or he proposed anyway, and she said yes.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah, I’m really happy for them. Wow… first Mike, now Luke. We really aren’t the same kids we used to be, are we?”

“I think in some respect you guys still are. You still cling to those roots of who you used to be, the things that shaped you into the people you are now. But you guys are also growing up, too. It happens, Cal.”

“Yeah, no, I just… Wow. It’s not something I really pay much attention to, us growing up, until something like this happens.”

“The last time one of your band members got engaged, you got a case of feeling like you weren’t measuring up somehow. You’re not feeling that way now, are you?”

“No. Not at all. In fact… Luke said something when Mike told us he got engaged. That he wanted to go tell Sierra how much he loved her.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, and at the time I made fun of him for it. But… I dunno… I get it. This type of shit really shifts things into perspective.”

“I mean, yeah. Last time it resulted in both of us thinking we should try being an ‘us’ again. What’s the perspective shifting to this time? You’re not gonna go out, and buy a ring, are you?”

“No, I already have one in my sock drawer.”

You choked. “What?”

He climbed out of bed with a laugh, making his way to the dresser and rummaging around in one of the top drawers. Then, something small was soaring through the air as he tossed whatever it was onto the bed towards you. “Told ya,” he said simply, as you grabbed the small box, popping the lid to find a ring inside.

“How long have you had this?” you asked, your voice a small whisper.

“Uh… 2016 I think,” he said as he rejoined you in bed.

“So, since the first time we dated?”

“Yep.”

“Calum!”

“What?” he laughed. “I told you our entire relationship, both then and now, that you’re the only person I see a future with. Did you think I was lying?”

“No! I- I just didn’t know you went so far as to get a ring, and keep it for 5 bloody years.”

“Well, it would have been a little weird if you had it all these years, considering… ya know.”

You laughed in a mix of disbelief and shock. “You are absolutely crazy.”

“I’m not actually proposing, you know that, yeah? I mean, yes, the ring is yours. But only if you want it to be. I love the life we have together, more so than I thought I could love any other version of my life. I never feel like I’m stuck in place, or missing something when I’m with you. I’ll be just as happy if you never wear that ring, as I would if you wore it every day for the rest of your life. You, me, Duke, and music is all I’m ever gonna need in life. I’ve known it since the first time I said I love you. Even in those years we thought chasing our careers was more important, you were still the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”

“Calum…” you breathed, your lip trembling.

“Shh, if you want the whole deal of the proposal and the picture perfect wedding, I’ll give that to you gladly. That’s what the ring’s for. But if you’re content with what we have now, this will always be enough for me, and that’s a promise.”

“I don’t want a proposal only because Luke and Sierra made you extra sentimental. I don’t want to take their moment away from them either.”

“That ring has been yours far longer than any extra sentiment our friends getting engaged could stir up, but I get what you’re saying. If/when you want it, say the word.”

“Ask me again in a year,” you decided. “And I mean really ask me. The whole deal.”

“I can’t fuckin’ wait,” he murmured as his lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face. “I’m so in love with you. Always have been. Always will be.”

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @major5sosstan @1weekago

#let the walls break down #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts.

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame.

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67 because she’s the best.

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl.

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.”

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh.

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly.

“I have three PhDs!”

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.”

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that.

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off.

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him.

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact.

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.”

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —”

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree.

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.”

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Nope.”

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! In fact…”

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring.

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place.

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months.

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again.

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly.

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV.

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees.

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed.

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.”

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space.

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this.

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again.

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.”

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you.

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and —

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking.

— what?

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.”

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge.

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.”

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?”

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible.

“You’re… you…what?”

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged.

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle.

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features.

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.”

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?”

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss.

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away.

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs.

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening.

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered.

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.”

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed.

“I thought you were doing that.”

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —”

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.”

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched.

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action.

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.”

“So you didn’t know…”

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.”

“Like what?”

“Intense.”

“Yeah?”

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.”

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.”

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…”

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed.

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache.

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—”

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.”

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening.

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say.

There is now a sexy follow-up here!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message!

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

hell or high water

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings: angst, possible tfatws spoilers, swearing, dealing with emotions / comforting, mutual pining, a lil fluff, & mentions of john walker [yes, i’m adding that as a warning] word count: 1.5k summary: unexpected, and rather devastating news, bring you and bucky together.

The calm before the storm - a period of unusual tranquillity and stability that often foreshadowed grave and difficult times.

The calm before the storm. That’s how you would describe what was happening during this moment, as you propped yourself up on the chair, silently observing Bucky for any sort of reaction to the breaking headline currently being shared on every single news channel.

John Walker. The new Captain America.

Bucky’s face was blank, although by now you’ve gotten to know him well enough to understand what the expression, or lack thereof, meant. He was irritated - no - he was fucking pissed. And truthfully, he had every right to be.

“I liked that what I was doing would make people feel safe. Steve Rogers was the kind of guy who could do that, he gave me hope. Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” John Walker’s voice sounded through the shitty speakers.

Bucky’s heart sank at the words. He smacked his lips together and exhaled.

“Hey, uhm… are you okay?” You asked in a hushed tone, eyes glued to the side of his face, nervously chewing down on your bottom lip. It was a really stupid question since you already knew the answer. Of course he wasn’t okay. Far from it, actually. In your eyes however, it was always better to check anyway.

Especially since the man sitting on the cool ground only an arms length away from you wasn’t one to open up freely.

Bucky grunted in response, followed by a deep sigh.

“Just… peachy.” He huffed, before switching the tv off and sliding a hand down his face, wiping away any lone tears that may have escaped.

His response caused your heart to clench inside of your chest. You wanted to ease any pain the unexpected news caused him, but you weren’t exactly sure how. You felt extremely helpless, and from where you sat you could tell he was feeling the exact same - however, for different reasons.

His powerlessness was primarily fueled by anger.

And Bucky was aware the dangerous emotions circulating through his veins was undoubtedly stemming from heartbreak. Sorrow for everything he lost. Grief for the only family he had left.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person that accepted him for who he was. Cherished him despite the many flaws and mistakes he’s made over the years. The only person in this whole damn universe who could easily separate him from his dark and troubled past. The only person who didn’t just see him as The Winter Soldier, a ruthless killing machine.

No.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person who truly and earnestly believed Bucky was a good person.

And now Bucky had to witness Captain America being formally replaced. As if Steve Rogers was nothing. As if he meant nothing.

Which is why, as the dark-haired man stared at his own hollow reflection in the blank television screen, he was glad you entered his life when you did.

His gaze trailed to the outline of your silhouette and a small smile circled his lips. Knowing that you were here for him. Knowing that it was no longer only Steve who wholeheartedly believed he was genuine and kind… He felt better.

You could see him looking at you through the black display. You could see the miniscule smile present on his features, and you couldn’t help but return the expression.

Soon enough you were up on your feet, gracefully moving from the rather uncomfortable chair to the even more uncomfortable floor next to Bucky. You placed your head on his shoulder and his whole body instantly relaxed at your proximity, at your gentle and soothing touch. His eyes locked with yours through the monitor and you could clearly make out the gratitude, the adoration.

Yes. For a brief moment, a split second, Bucky felt better.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, bringing your knees closer to your chest and wrapping one arm tightly around to hold them in place. “I’m sorry this is happening. I know it’s not what you wanted, and… I know it’s now what Steve wanted.”

“Don’t apologise.” Bucky was quick to contravene.

You just shrugged, your head still resting against him. “Well, the people that made this decision, the people that should apologise most definitely won’t, and it seems like something you need to hear. A simple apology.”

He huffed lightly, once again feeling grateful he had someone like you to ground him. God, if you weren’t here… No. No. He stopped himself and shook the disturbing thoughts away. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere.

He swallowed.

But he was. He had no other choice.

“I- uh… I need to go, y/n. I need to find Sam. I need to talk to him and get some answers.”

“I know.” You stated simply, however there was a detectable hint of sadness in the tone of your voice. Bucky picked up on it immediately and he shifted in his position, so that he was now looking down at you.

His gaze burned into the side of your skull, lip quivering as he searched his mind for what to say next because he hated this. Hated it came to this. And you hated it too.

You began to feel guilty. If you weren’t in his life, he wouldn’t have this problem. He wouldn’t have you to worry about. He wouldn’t need to explain himself. There would be nothing holding him back.

Fuck, you thought, life was just starting to get easier.

Swallowing the growing lump at the back of your throat, you mustered up enough courage to face him. The amiable look in his eyes caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter momentarily.

“But you’ll come back.” It wasn’t a request. It was a fact. Corners of your lips twirled into a timid smile, yet all Bucky could focus on were the tears you were trying really hard to fight back.

Slowly, he nodded his head. How could he not come back? All you did these last few months was make him a little bit happier. He could only dream to one day return the favour, because as smart as Bucky Barnes was, he had no idea he already made you the happiest you’d ever been.

“I’ll come back.” He reassured.

“Alive.”

He chuckled softly before repeating, “Alive.”

Lifting your hand, you tenderly brushed your fingers down his cheek and across his jawline. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Because as you held his face in the palm of your hand while he studied every inch of yours, the uncertainty of when you would see each other again gradually settling in, you realised you’ve never been this close to one another.

You thought perhaps you should pull back, that this was a little too close for comfort, but you found yourself unable to move. Frozen. Completely captivated by the handsome man situated in front of you.

It should have felt weird, the intimacy of the moment. It should have felt weird. Why, why didn’t it feel weird? Bucky was your neighbour. He was your friend. There was nothing else to your relationship. Nothing… more.

But as you stared deeply into his eyes, taking note of the warm expression he was presenting as he continued to scan your face, the air hitched in your throat.

It felt natural.

Bucky sensed it too. He sensed the change in the atmosphere around the two of you. Unfamiliar, yet not unwelcoming. Quite the opposite actually. It drew him in. He found himself slowly leaning in, and like a magnet, you followed suit.

When his mouth eventually slanted over yours, your heart skipped a beat.

The kiss was gentle at first, as if Bucky was indicating you could stop him at any given time, if you wanted too. It wouldn’t take much to push him away and end this now. But you didn’t want to stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes at the desirable sensation igniting every single cell in your body.

Any boundary the two of you had previously unspokenly set was crossed, broken. However, it didn’t seem to matter to either of you.

The hand previously cupping Bucky’s cheek, was now gripping at his hair. Both of his hands were now holding your waist - not applying too much pressure, but making it known that they were there.

You wanted to comment how he very rarely touched you with his metal arm, always weary that he may somehow hurt you, and now he was latched onto you in a way that suggested he would never let you go, but his tongue wound its way between your parted lips, breaking you away from your thoughts.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, you pulled away simultaneously. Equally flushed and equally breathless. Smiling at one another like a couple of love-struck idiots.

“Hmm.. We can continue this when you’re back.” You whispered against his puffed lips, before pecking them softly.

Bucky smirked. He lifted his right arm and gently brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t you worry, y/n.” He began, “Come hell or high water, I’ll definitely be back.”

masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #marvel fanfiction

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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction.

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.”

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind.

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own.

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day.

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.”

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?”

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.”

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps?

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far.

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents.

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?”

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?”

“What?”

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?”

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—”

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie.

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?”

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector.

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern.

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.”

“You got it,” Hector said.

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization.

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success.

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage.

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid.

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice.

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun.

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere.

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings.

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed.

Nothing she wasn’t used to though.

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.”

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown.

“So, did you need something?”

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.”

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it.

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?”

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room.

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine.

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest.

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost.

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead.

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—”

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.”

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?”

“I prefer to be standing.”

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?”

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?”

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...”

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.”

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.”

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did.

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?”

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?”

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts.

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?”

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing.

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure.

Back to the fucking drawing board.

(next part here)

#who's ready for attempt 38 n' 39?#and did i honestly start another ficlet series when i already have so many ongoing?#WACK!#also wtf; why is this 2k words...?#my words.

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