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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

chapter three - Chapter Four: Madripoor - chapter five

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky pay an eventful visit to Helmut Zemo in Berlin, heading to Madripoor soon after to get answers about the serum.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: spoilers for episode.3, angst, violence, description of injuries, a few crumbs for the slow burn, breaking the law and looking good doing it

A/N: These chapters always end up being so long lol. I was going to include the nightclub scene but it would’ve made it too long so sorry, it’ll have to wait a few more days. Forgive my shitty Russian translations, I’m on Google Translate and that’s not saying a lot.

----

“Not that it makes a difference, but I still don’t like this.” I’d voiced my displeasure about meeting with Zemo several times since we’d arrived in Germany. Even though we were already being led through the high security Berlin prison hallways, I still felt the urge to state my opinion.

The guard that was guiding us gestured towards a door, “He’s just through the corridor.”

“Give us a sec,” Bucky said, the three of us coming to a halt in the middle of the hall. “I’m gonna go in alone.” “Why?” Sam asked.

“You’re an Avenger, you know how he feels about that,” Bucky looked to me, “You, I’m trying to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together,” Sam remarked.

“I’m gonna say it again,” I took an assertive step forward, “I don’t like this.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA,” Bucky pushed, “We have a history together. Trust me, I got it.”

Taking my cue from Sam, who didn’t fight him any more, I nervously watched Bucky stalk down the hallway to the corridor that led to our possible next step.

“Is he really okay?” I asked, watching Bucky’s figure until he disappeared, “I feel like we’re going a little too far with this.” “He’s invested, which means he’s desperate,” Sam answered, leaning his back against the wall, “This is a little too much though.”

I copied his posture and we stood in silence, the occasional guard passing by. “What happened last night after I left the room? C’mon, you come out crying and you thought I was gonna let it go?” “Bucky and I were just…” I sighed, remembering the change that had happened between our two conversations, “Learning to get along. I told him about Steve, that’s never fun to relive.” “Ah,” Sam nodded, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” “You’re not mad at me that I gave up the shield, are you?”

My brows knitted together as I looked over at him, “Why would I be mad? Your decision wouldn’t have changed even if I was, would it?” “No, it wouldn’t have. But you were close to Steve too, you care about his legacy,” he went on, “We’re all angry about Walker. I don’t care if Bucky’s upset at me, but I always care if you are.” “Someone ever tell you you care too much sometimes?” I playfully nudged his sneaker with my own, “Of course I’m not mad, you know I support you no matter what. You made the right decision for you and you have nothing to apologize for. Bucky and even Steve don’t need to understand why you chose to give it up. Would it have been cool to say that my brother is Captain America?” I coaxed a laugh out of him, “Of course, but it doesn’t change how I see you. I’m just proud to say my brother is Sam Wilson.” He poked me with his elbow and smiled, “Now I remember why I keep you around.” “Y/n Y/l/n, Falcon’s Ego Booster.” We were sharing a laugh when Bucky came back around the corner. “That was quick,” I observed. He’d been in there five minutes tops.

“We’ve got our next stop.”

————

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam questioned in the dark, “Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?”

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky replied, shining his flashlight around to try and find the power switch. I couldn’t clearly make out where he had brought us to, he’d brought us through the back door of the building. “So because we’ve hit one dead end, you want to spring one of the most dangerous men in the world out of prison?” I asked, shining my flashlight at Bucky causing him to throw a hand up to shield his eyes, “Bucky, I don’t-“ “Like this,” he finished, “I got that, but we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on the loose.” “Zemo’s gonna miss with our minds, especially yours,” Sam interjected, “No offense.” I made out Bucky’s silhouette reaching up a beam, a loud click of a switch and the lights began to turn on. “Offense,” he scowled.

With the lights on, we could finally see that we were in an auto shop. I was glad to be out of the prison but I wasn’t seeing the correlation between it and freeing Zemo.

“Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in,” Bucky continued, “He is crazy, but he still has a code.” “I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you,” Sam countered, I’d heard in detail about the havoc Zemo had caused and the ramifications of his actions had caused Sam and Steve to become fugitives. Never mind what he’d done to Bucky…”He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question, they didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

Bucky stood in front of us now, “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are,” Sam turned his back in frustration, “Look, let me just walk you two through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“What did you do?” Sam asked suspiciously, turning halfway to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I didn’t…” Bucky’s looked away briefly, “Do anything.”

“Then by all means,” I leaned up against a beam and crossed my arms, not believing him at all, “Let’s ride the hypothetical train.” Bucky frowned at my sarcasm before launching into it, “The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.” “So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam asked.

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage.”

“My gut is sounding off every alarm it has right now,” I commented from my place across from Bucky.

“Yeah, I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this, this is unnatural,” Sam replied finally, “Are you- and where are we, man?” A nearby door closing caused us to turn our attention towards it, a silhouette appearing soon after through a curtain. The shadow became a man and walked through the cloth divider wearing the face I’d had etched in my brain since the day it hit the news.

“You son of a bitch,” I mumbled, creating a ball of energy quickly with my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam’s voice rose, walking with me towards the man, “What are you doin’ here?” Bucky was quick to throw himself in front of us, “No, listen. I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew neither of you would let this happen.” “What the hell did you do?” I exclaimed.

“We need him,” Bucky said. Sam pointed to Zemo, “You’re going back to prison!”

“If I may,” the Sokovian man began, removing the hat of his stolen prison guard uniform.

“NO!” the three of us yelled at the same time. He hung his head, “Apologies…” Bucky turned back to Sam, “When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me,” when Sam averted his gaze, Bucky chased it, “I’m asking you to do it again.”

“And what about her?” Sam gestured to me and the ball of energy I still had formed in my palms, “What happens when she breaks the law?” Bucky’s pleading eyes drifted to me, “He’s our only shot at getting any answers.” My mind was wrestling with itself, his rightness was inevitably going to come at a cost we would all have to pay. On a technicality, yes, I could plead innocent to freeing Zemo. A coconspirator charge, I wouldn’t be so lucky with. But stopping the Flag Smashers meant saving lives and that wasn’t something I could walk away from. I deformed the energy in my hands in cautious surrender, “I’m already breakin’ the law by going against the accords, I need to make it worth it at least.” Sam shot me an exasperated glance, but he didn’t fight me.

“I really think I’m invaluable…” Zemo began from his corner.

“Shut up…” Sam warned, effectively shutting him up. Sam thought it all over for a second before pressing his flashlight to Bucky’s chest, “Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Zemo shrugged, “Fair.”

The three of us shared an uneasy look, there was no going back now. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start?”

“Follow me,” he smiled, leading the way out of the auto shop and expecting us to follow. Sam went first, eager to keep his eye on Zemo at all times while Bucky and I brought up the rear.

“I didn’t want to have to go this route,” he said from beside me as if he owed me some explanation for his actions. I sighed, trying to shut off the part of my brain that was screaming at me, “Just be right.”

We maneuvered through a few corridors until we hit a room filled with beautiful antique cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam asked. “These are mine,” Zemo corrected, “Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people…like the Avengers,” he dug through one of the cars to pull out a bag and coat, “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” My eyes unavoidably flickered to Bucky, observing his reaction to hearing his old code name. He simply watched the man continue speaking. “To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started…” Sam commented.

“First stop is a woman named Selby,” Zemo stated as he headed for the exit, “Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.”

Sam, Bucky and I left a gaping distance between us and him, we were still highly suspicious and I had a feeling we would be until our temporary partnership came to an end.

————

Zemo had gotten word to somebody that we’d be meeting them at a private airport in Berlin and flying to someplace called Madripoor. Somehow we’d made the journey without being recognized, even those of us who were wanted across the globe. “So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asked as we made our way towards the private plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam,” Zemo answered, “My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

Zemo greeted the man standing outside the plane, who was dressed like a butler, in Sokovian. “Well,” I crossed my arms and watched one of the world’s most dangerous men exchange cheek kisses, “If we’re going to work with a criminal, at least we picked one that comes with transportation.” “Please,” Zemo said, gesturing for us to follow him up the plane’s steps. Sam awkwardly bowed to the butler and headed up. Bucky extended a hand towards the jet for me to go ahead of him before following closely behind.

When we filed into the plane, Sam and Zemo were already seated. I moved to take the chair across from the baron, wanting to keep as close an eye on him as I could. Bucky’s flesh arm reached out quickly and grabbed my shoulder, I turned to question him and met his wary expression. “Sit with Sam,” he muttered quietly, our faces close enough that I could feel his breath as he’d spoken. It dawned on me that he wanted me to have the safer position. I answered with a nod, maneuvering around him to sit across from Sam. Even though his hand had left my arm, I could still feel its print through my jacket.

We had been flying for maybe twenty minutes when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, came in carrying a glass of champagne for Zemo and offering to whip up some food. It astounded me how to the world, he was evil yet to his servants, he was a joy. “You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell,” the baron said before looking over at my brother, “Oh, that’s right. You do.”

Sam bypassed the jab remarkably, “Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry, I was just fascinated by this,” Zemo held up a book, “I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Not two seconds after the name had left his lips, Bucky out of his seat with his metal hand wrapped around Zemo’s neck. My heart stopped as I watched him lean over the man threateningly. “If you touch that book again,” he growled, “I’ll kill you.” This was a side of Bucky I had yet to see, the one that straddled the line between his dark past and his true self. As he sat back down, tucking the book in his pocket and refusing to meet my eyes, I could tell he wasn’t pleased with how he’d acted. I wasn’t in a place to criticize but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been slightly worried when his fingers hit Zemo’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo said, “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” “Don’t push it,” Bucky rasped, collecting himself after the scene.

“I’ve seen that book,” Sam spoke up, “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” “I like ’40’s music,” Bucky shrugged and looked out the window, “So…” “You didn’t like it?” Sam exclaimed.

“I liked it,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“It is a masterpiece, James,” Zemo chimed in, his hands forming a triangle, “Complete, comprehensive…It captures the African-American experience.” While my brows raised at the European’s surprising education, Sam’s furrowed. “He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great, everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky shook his head, “I like Marvin Gaye.” “Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” “He did,” I chuckled, reminiscing back to only last year, “Played him almost anytime I got in a car with him.” “You must have really looked up to Steve,” Zemo said, “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.” “Watch your step, Zemo…” Sam warned. “They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there,” he shrugged, “Cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” Zemo turned his attention to Bucky, “You remember that, right?” As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” “What’s up with Madripoor?” Sam looked between the two men, “You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago,” Bucky grumbled, “It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” “It’s kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves,” Zemo’s unsettling eyes moved back to Bucky, “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

With the way Bucky’s expression had changed in mere seconds from complacent to tortured, it didn’t take long to decode what Zemo was insinuating. “No,” I blurted out, “That’s not fair to ask of him.” “I admire your devotion, Y/n,” Zemo complimented with his lips to his champagne flute, taking a quick sip, “But you know nothing of how Madripoor works. If you want to get to Selby, we must have protection. More than that, we must have leverage. James can provide us both by simply playing a part.” “Devo-?” I shook my head, sidestepping Zemo’s comment, “That’s not playing a part, that’s like reliving every nightmare you’ve ever had. I-it’s like-“ “Y/n,” I turned to see Bucky’s chair rotated towards me, looking helpless and determined all at once, “We need in.” “Yeah, but…” I started to protested before seeing his eyes, those ocean blue eyes I was growing to feel comforted by begging me to let the subject go. I clenched my own y/e/c ones shut in frustration, “Okay.” “Now that that’s settled,” Zemo stood from his seat, “I will find us something to change into, we will need to blend in where we’re going.” ——

The silver dress Zemo had chosen for me was…it made me wonder just what kind of scene we were planning to enter. It was more revealing than anything I typically wore, but gorgeous nonetheless and fit perfectly.

As I was finishing my makeup in the bathroom of the plane, I had to take a second to steel myself for what was to come. This wasn’t just dallying with Super Soldiers any more, this was dancing with the criminal underworld. Zemo hadn’t told us yet the roles we were playing, only that we needed to stay in character at all cost. I had never felt more out of my depth, but had no choice but to rise to the occasion. Giving myself one last check in the mirror, I unlocked and exited the bathroom.

“Okay, I hope whoever I’m playing is bad with heels,” I held up the elaborate shoes Zemo had matched to my dress, “Because there’s no way I’m going to be graceful in these.” Sam looked up from tying his dress shoes, dressed in a maroon suit patterned with yellow circles. His eyes scanned my outfit unapprovingly. “Uh uh,” he protested, going full protective big brother, “Nope. It shows too much.” “It doesn’t matter what it shows,” I said, bending over to strap on the shoes, “It’s what I’ve got.” “She’s right,” Zemo chimed in, putting his jacket on, “You two are supposed to be rich, glamorous travelers of the world. You need to look the part,” he nodded towards me, “You wear it well.” I politely smiled at the baron and looked up to Bucky, perched in the far corner of the jet. His gaze was fixed on me, eyes quickly traveling down my body before quickly locking with mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his plush lips parted ever so slightly. I found myself just as drawn into him as he seemed to be with me, for a few seconds it was just the two of us shutting our surroundings out. It was…something. “You look nice,” Bucky finally said, his voice slightly strained.

My lips quirked upwards, “Thanks.” “It is time for us to leave,” Zemo announced, bursting the bubble Bucky and I had built, “You’d better get used to those shoes quickly, we’ll be making most of the journey by foot.” He hadn’t been lying. We departed the runway and walked our way towards the city. Madripoor looked beautiful on the outside, the high-rise buildings lit up in all different colors emitting a glow across the waters.

“We have to do something about this,” Sam finally exclaimed, holding the lapels of his patterned maroon suit, “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” “If you’re a pimp, what does that make me?” I gestured to the amount of skin I had on display, “Suck it up, Wilson.” “Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo added as we crossed the large bridge leading to the city, “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Sam took Zemo’s phone from his outstretched hand, “He even has a bad nickname.”

I leaned over to look at the picture of Sam’s doppelgänger, “Hey, be nice. That’s your twin you’re talking about.” “And you,” Zemo addressed me, “Conrad is known for entertaining beautiful women, one after the other,” he ignored the faces of disgust Sam and I made at the thought of acting as a couple, “You will be playing tonight’s date, no need to come up with a name or a story as his dates are typically just arm candy.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit and look pretty?” I side eyed Zemo in annoyance, “Great.” “You smell this?” he asked the group.

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.

“Madripoor,” Zemo answered, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way,” Zemo pointed towards the part of the city I’d been admiring, “Not a bad place if you want to visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” We approached a car waiting for us at the end of the bridge, ready to take us into the darkest part of the city. Bucky, who had remained silent since the plane, climbed into the backseat first while Zemo took the passenger’s side. “Let me guess,” Sam remarked as we moved to get in the car, “We don’t have any friends in High Town.”

“I’m guessing not,” I muttered, ducking into the back seat and sliding till I was pressed against Bucky. He didn’t make a sound, he barely even registered my presence. I was about to ask him if he was alright when I realized what he was doing. We all had our roles to play and Bucky was doing just that.

Sam climbed in next to me and we took off, me sandwiched between the two men trying to convince myself that I could do this. I could pretend to be someone I wasn’t to get answers, but my nerves was convincing me I was going to mess it up for us. No margin for error, Zemo’s words bounced around in my brain. He’d said our lives depended on it. They depended on whether or not I could keep it together. Sam must have sensed my anxiety because I felt his palm slide against my clammy one and squeeze. I sent a shaky one back, taking what comfort I could that I didn’t have to do this alone.

We were escorted in by a motorcade till we got to the seedier part of the city, the bridge we parked under painted with graffiti. Sam helped me out of the car and Zemo took our group through the back way into the city. As we crossed the overhead bridge, looking down into the city, I began to feel like my life had suddenly become some fever dream. Even more so once we entered the city and I was surrounded by people from all walks of life. Smugglers were making deals, guards were stationed outside buildings with machine guns, forgers were trying to sell to people. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Sam kept me on his arm the entire time, selling our characters while still retaining his protective nature. We followed Zemo into a crowded bar, weaving our way through. “Here we are,” he announced quietly, our fellow patrons took notice as soon as they caught sight of Bucky, “Gotov podchinit'sya, zimniy soldat?” (Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?)

I tried my best to keep my face neutral, though an unwelcome chill went down my spine as Zemo began his act. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair to Bucky or his recovery to make him do this.

We approached the bar and the bartender came over immediately, “Hello, gentlemen. Ma’am. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” “His plans changed,” Zemo explained, “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked over suspiciously at Sam, “The usual?” Sam nodded casually in response and the man walked away to begin prepping the drink. What took us by surprise was when he reached for a jar containing a dead snake rather than the bottle of alcohol. He proceeded to lay the reptile on a cutting board and slice its stomach open, I looked up to Sam who was doing his best to keep his composure. “Ah, Smiling Tiger,” Zemo jeered, “Your favorite.”

The bartender removed a piece of the snake’s guts and sunk it into a shot glass filled with vodka. I covered my mouth with my clutch to conceal my delight at the sight I was about to behold. Sam caught the action and addressed the bartender, “You know what? She’ll have one too.” “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” I quickly protested, waving it off as if it were a shot of tequila and not an animal intestine.

“No, girl, I insist,” Sam grinned phonily at me.

“They actually upset my stomach,” I giggled, glancing to the bartender, “Can’t hold my liquor to save my life, I’ll be up all night sick if it touches my lips. But you enjoy, sweetheart.” The bartender didn’t pay much attention to the exchange as he set the shot glass in front of Sam, who looked unconvincingly between the glass and Zemo. “I love these,” he stated, holding it up for us all to see.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo clinked his glass against Sam’s.

Sam made several, hopefully convincing, noises of excitement about his drink. After giving it one last look, he shot it straight down, holding a thumbs up to the bartender afterwards.

“How badly are you trying not to throw up right now?” I whispered after the man had left.

“I can’t even hear you right now,” Sam replied in a strained voice, focusing on keeping the drink where it needed to be. An intimidating bearded man made us all turn around, he looked to Zemo. “I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo, ever the cool and collected presence, turned to the man. “I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured to Bucky, standing at his side.

“New haircut?” the man asked Bucky, who stayed silent.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo finished.

The man left, leaving us with questions. “A power broker?” Bucky grumbled, “Really?” “Every kingdom needs its king,” Zemo replied, “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam inconspicuously asked. “Only be reputation the baron answered, “In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

I spotted another man approaching us, this one walking with a purpose. Zemo looked to Bucky, the show was about to start. “Zimniy Soldat,” Bucky nodded once, “Attask.” (Winter Soldier, attack.) As soon as the stranger thumped Zemo’s shoulder, Bucky sprang to action, his metal hand grabbing and twisting the man’s arm. He pushed him to the center of the room where he proceeded to twist it further before dropping him to the ground. The groans coming from him were sickening as he lay helpless, clutching his most likely broken arm. As another patron came up to attack, Bucky moved fast to disarm him before power kicking him into a table several times. I clung to Sam’s arm even tighter as Zemo shoved someone forward for Bucky to punch, sending him sliding across the floor.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo slyly observed, from my side. It took everything in me not to send him flying across the room right then. He was enjoying this.

When Bucky lifted a man by his throat and slammed him down on the bar was when guns all over the bar were cocked. Sam grabbed onto Bucky’s metal arm, ready to pull him back to us and to reality. “Stay in character,” Zemo whispered, dead serious, “Or the whole bar turns on us.” Sam dropped his arm as Zemo leaned into Bucky, “Molodets, soldat.” (Well done, soldier.)

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said, watching the scene in awe. Bucky slowly let the man go, gasping and groaning for air once he was freed. Sam looked over warily, “You good?” When Bucky faced us, his eyes met mine before they met Sam’s. I wished I could have concealed my reaction better for his sake, but the second he had attacked was the first time since we’d met that I’d been properly scared of him. It made the incident on the plane look like nothing. My mind knew he was just acting, pretending to be someone he once was for the sake of furthering our mission. But my blood ran just as cold with fear as it would have if the Winter Soldier was standing in front of me. Bucky’s eyes now were watery, filled with pain that he’d worked hard with his therapist to get through, now being brought back to life. Had the bar not been watching and had I not needed to stick with Sam, I’d have been at his side trying to make sure he was alright. Instead, I could only watch as he sniffled, nodded to Sam and followed Zemo to wherever we were going next.

We were escorted upstairs through a series of hallways with a heavily armed guard following us. A white haired woman sat in the middle of the room we were led to, tapping her fingers against the couch she lounged on. “You should know, Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Zemo smiled, “Not a demand. An offer.”

Sam and I took our places standing next to Selby, Bucky stood watch across from us, back in his act.

“A lot has changed since you were here last,” Selby spared a look at Bucky, “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo shrugged, “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

Selby pointed a blind finger towards Sam, “You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger,” she eyed Sam suggestively and gave him a purr before turning her attention to me, “And what a lovely little dish you’ve got with you.” Internally I was struggling to stay calm and had never felt more exposed with the thin materiel of the dress over my body. “What’s the offer?” Selby grinned at Zemo.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum,” Zemo replied, rising from his seat to circle Bucky, “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want,” Zemo rubbed Bucky’s chin, playing with it to provoke him but knowing he could get away with it. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember,” Selby approved, “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but…things didn’t go as planned.”

I squeezed Sam’s arm, we were getting answers. The crazy, chaotic plan was actually working. “Is Nagal still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh, the bread crumbs you can have for free,” Selby’s flirtatious demeanor shifted as she stood to business-like, “But the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

A sudden vibration tickled my arm from Sam’s suit pocket, it was his cell phone. He pulled it out hesitantly and looked down at it, I glanced over to see that it was Sarah calling.

“Answer it,” Selby ordered, Bucky had moved behind her to give us protection if need be, “On speaker.” The armed bodyguards moved in closer, it was clear we had no say in the matter. Sam unlocked his phone and pressed the speaker button, “Hello?” “Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation,” Sarah’s voice filled the air, sending an all too brief wave of peace through me, “It’s been drivin’ me nuts.”

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam replied stiffly. “Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah?” Sam’s voice grew louder, “Say it.”

“The damn boat,” Sarah replied just as hard, “And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

Sarah. The boat. Home. And here I was standing in a designer dress meeting with Indonesian crime bosses. Two unbelievable worlds were colliding on the call.

Sam scoffed and nervously chuckling, “Yeah, the bank. Laundered so much, yeah, they’ll come around.” “If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?”

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see,” Sam paused menacingly, “When I have that banker killed.”

We almost had Selby convinced as I watched her pace around the room, we were so close to- “Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!” Sarah yelled, “Sam, I’m sorry. Let me call you back, and make sure Y/n is with you too.” “Sam? Y/n?” Selby echoed the names, “Who are you? Kill them!”

A second after she had given the order, a bullet shot through the nearby window and struck her chest fatally. The four of us sprung to action, Sam landing punches on the guard stationed behind us while I used my energy to pull the machine gun from his grasp. Across from us, Bucky took care of the other guard. I handed the weapon to Sam and we took our positions in the back of the room, ready to retaliate against the hidden assassin. “They’re gonna pin this on us,” Sam panted, our backs against the wall.

“We have a real problem now,” Zemo said, unbelievably calm for someone in our situation, “So leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Bucky ripped the lock on the back door and the four of us filed down the staircase quick as we could. It dropped us back off in the middle of the city, we hurriedly made our way down the street where all heads were turning to us. “This is not good,” Zemo hurried. The words hung in the air for a grand total of five seconds before bullets started to rain down around us. Bucky, Sam and I tore down the street where in the chaos, Zemo took off in another direction.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yelled over the gunfire. “Oh, I don’t wanna hear it,” I exclaimed, struggling to keep up with them in my stilettos, “Screw it!”

I threw my hands out to my side and lifted off the ground, keeping low enough to dodge any shots but stay close to Sam and Bucky. Two motorcycles sped after us promising more bounty hunters, Zemo caught up with us and killed two lone gunmen hiding behind a dumpster. Two perfectly aimed bullets came out of nowhere and lodged themselves in the heads of the cyclists chasing us.

“You seem to have a guardian angel,” Zemo observed as the three of us looked around for our savior.

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice said, she appeared seconds later drawing back her hood and pointing a gun toward us, “Drop it, Zemo.”

Bucky stepped forward disbelievingly, “Sharon?” Sharon Carter. I recognized her only from the pictures I’d seen of her on the news when the shitstorm that branded her an enemy of the state went down. As she strode forward, ready to strike down the man responsible, I couldn’t say with certainty if she was an ally or not. “You cost me everything,” she seethed.

“Sharon, wait,” Sam, ever the steady presence, held a hand out and carefully came towards her, “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” “Well, that explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” she answered, her face contorting, “I also took the wings for your ass,” she aimed her gun at Sam, “So that you could save his ass,” then at Bucky, “From his ass,” the gun landed on me after Zemo, “Your ass is new.” “I’ve had one hell of an initiation, trust me,” I replied, standing my ground between Bucky and Zemo.

Sharon turned back towards Sam, “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up so I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Don’t blow that smoke at me, I was on the run, too,” Sam recalled. “Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore,” Sharon shook her head sadly, “I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen, Sharon,” Bucky stepped forward, “We need your help. Please.” Sharon mirthlessly chuckled to herself, sighing afterwards as she made her decision. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

While Sam roughly shoved Zemo forward to keep him in his line of sight, Bucky pressed a gentle hand to the small of my back to act as a guide through the dark alleyways. “You okay?” he asked quietly, quickly looking over at me. With everything he’d gone through in the last twenty minutes, the fight in the bar, the unshed tears in his eyes, Zemo talking about him like he was property to be traded, I couldn’t understand why he was asking if I was alright. He was what I was concerned with right now. “I will be once I get out of these shoes,” I joked, trying to get him to smile if at all possible. A corner of his lips turned upwards in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it flash, mine doing the same right after in some sort of relief.

Sharon led us to her car parked down a different alley, Sam shoved Zemo in the front seat while him, Bucky and I squeezed in the backseat once again. The difference between Low Town and High Town was visceral, Madripoor may have been dangerous no matter where you went but High Town provided a little more safety. When we arrived at Sharon’s house, greeted by two burly guards, the feeling of protection increased. The first room we entered was filled with artwork, statues and other priceless works that told us exactly what Sharon had done to afford her lifestyle in High Town.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well,” Sam commented as we walked through the room.

“Well, I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler,” Sharon shrugged, far too goodheartedly for a true criminal, “You know how much I can get for a real Monet?” Sam grinned at his friend, “Deactivate your hustle mood, you sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real,” Zemo corrected, “This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” “I kinda thought that was implied,” I said, following Sharon and Zemo and beginning to relax in the shockingly calm environment, “No offense.” Sharon scoffed, “None taken, a girl’s gotta do what she can to survive. By the way, who are you?”

“Y/n Y/l/n,” I answered, “Sam’s sister.” “Hmm,” Sharon hummed, looking me over once before turning around to hurry Sam and Bucky along, “Come on, you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour. You,” she pointed to me, “Second door on your left, I’ll bring something up for you.” At the promise of shedding the over exposing dress and blistering heels, I had never moved faster in my life.

————

I took the opportunity to catch my breath while I could, the night had been a little too exciting than any of us had wanted. Sitting on the edge of Sharon’s bed with my elbows balanced on my knees, I felt the adrenaline rush I’d been running on start to subside.

The door opened, bringing in Sharon and her garment of choice. “This looked like it would fit you,” she said, tossing me a black jumpsuit that looked ten times more comfortable than what I was in. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out an outfit for herself, “I gotta change too, back to back?” “Works for me,” I replied, turning around and beginning to unzip the dress.

“So you said you’re Sam’s sister but your last name isn’t Wilson?” Sharon asked, I could hear the sound of her clothes hitting the floor.

“We grew up together,” I freed myself of the dress and kicked it to the corner of the room.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though,” she said, “This is probably the shittiest family road trip you could go on so clearly there’s a reason.” I looked over to the wardrobe, a pair of black boots sitting on the floor next to it. I used my energy to levitate them and landed them at Sharon’s side. Her dry chuckle served as her reaction. “I kinda begged him to bring me,” I explained as I pulled the jumpsuit up my body, “He was going to send me back home before John Walker decided to not so subtly threaten me with the Sokovian Accords, figured I’d be safer here with them.” “Safer?” Sharon scoffed, “Did he say this before or after you were being shot at by bounty hunters?”

“Well, between getting shipped off to jail and going undercover with a superhero and a Super Soldier as protection, I’ll take my chances here.” I heard Sharon walk away, presumably finished dressing. I zipped up the suit and tightened the belt, turning around after to find her leaned up against her dresser with her hands in her pockets. “Look, I know we just met but let me do you a favor and shed some light on the subject of heroics. It’s all bullshit. The whole costume, nickname, swoop-in-and-save-the-day act is all hypocrisy. I get that you’re young, you’ve got,” she waved a hand at mine, “Whatever that is. Maybe you want to do some good, maybe you just want to feel like you’re a part of something. Maybe you didn’t think it through at all and just thought it would be cool to run with a superhero. But if you’re smart, you’ll get your ass on a plane to anywhere but here and stay clear of all this.”

There was so much going through my head that I wanted to throw back at her, proving her speech completely wrong. Then I remembered that this woman had sacrificed more than most had and the government had turned their backs on her. She’d stuck her neck out for Steve and Sam and had been punished for it. Plus, she was kind enough to give us refuge when she had every right now to. I wasn’t in a place to criticize her. If anything, she should have been a cautionary tale. “I’ve had these powers all my life and have never known what to do with them,” I responded, “I want to help people and this is the best way for me to do that. As easy as it would be for some people to walk away, this is personal and I can’t leave now.” Sharon stared back at me silently before pushing herself off the dresser and brushing past me. There were layers of her expression, if I could peel each one back I thought I might get to the sadness I suspected she felt regarding her current life status. She opened her wardrobe, pulled out a pair of combat boots and handed them to me. “Then take a step back and ask yourself how far you’re willing to go. And if the three of you live long enough to get there, is it going to be worth the hell that’ll come afterwards?” She gave me a half smile before leaving the room, her heavy words hanging in the air. Steve had been my friend, Sam was my brother and Bucky was quickly climbing the ranks of people I cared about. I was going to see this through to the end with them, but what was the end? Was it retrieving the rest of the serum and stopping the Flag Smashers? Was it only two of us returning? One? None? Questions I didn’t have the answers to swirled in my mind as I stared at the door, wondering what awaited us for the rest of the night.

----

A/N: Next chapter is going to be...let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of developments. A lot. Hope you guys are enjoying it, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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emiefaunwrites · 3 years

Note

Not sure if this would cause angst or just some funny shenanigans, but I’m curious…

Has Taka and Leon ever been on a date that just… went horribly wrong?

Heyyy!!

So yes. Yes there is one particular date that I can think of that went horribly wrong. And I think it's about time that a certain member of Leon's family turns up at this point...

So just before I continue, I want to clarify my opinion on Kanon. I don't know all that much about her, but the things that are BEYOND obvious is that she is young and that she is obsessed with her older cousin Leon. Obsessed to the point of stalking, manipulative behaviour and attempted assault.

Now as someone who has, unforunately, had an obsession with an ex of mine, I know how difficult it is to shake those feelings. They make you act in ridiculous ways and turn you into a person that you honestly are not. Thankfully I never hurt anyone physically nor did I stalk, but I was manipulative and controlling and became a person I am ashamed to remember today. And once that obsession fades (which it thankfully did for me), the guilt and the embarrassment is crippling and I live with it daily.

Now I'm not at all saying she is right in what she's doing - it's absolutely wrong. It is NOT an excuse to stalk, or harrass, or assault the 'object of your affection' in the slightest and I do not condone Kanon's behaviour or actions at all. But I would like to try and portray Kanon as a girl who cannot control her emotions and all the ways that it manifests - the two sides of obsession. I think it's important to show what obsession looks like as well as the affect it has on everyone around them - including the person they are obsessed with so if you aren't comfortable with obsessive behaviour or just with Kanon's character in general, please don't read this.

Okay. So enough on that. Here is the disaster date! Thank you for your ask and I hope you enjoy!!

**********************

• Leon hasn't told Taka about his cousin, Kanon.

• It isn't really an easy topic to bring up - how your cousin is obsessed with you.

• It'a always made Leon uncomfortable and he's tried to rebuff the attention in many different ways.

• He tried telling her that cousins shouldn't date - but she ignored it.

• He tried to steer her towards boys her own age, suggesting he help hook her up with someone - but she was adamant the HE was the only one for her.

• He tried grossing her out, not washing for a few days before she visited - but she took no notice.

• Eventually, in his 'asshole' phase, he took drastic measures.

• After years of torment and feeling uncomfortable, he announced to her, in front of his 'friends', that she was ugly and he only liked 'sexy' girls.

• He would NEVER consider dating her, not unless she threw a pitch at 100km - something he knew would be impossible.

• And until that day, she wasn't to talk to him anymore.

• A part of him felt guilty - she's his cousin after all, and the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

• But he's tired of it all, and he's already under so much social pressure, and he pretty much hates himself anyway - so he stood his ground and shut her down.

• Since then, he's barely thought about her.

• But about eight months into his relationship with Taka, he encounters her again.

• Because what Leon doesn't know is Kanon's obsession has only grown stronger.

• And because she's been blocked from his social media, she's resorted to a fake profile to follow him.

• And she happens to know that Leon will be on a date with someone in the city.

• And not just anyone. A date with A BOY.

• And she can't deal with that so she oh so conveniently happened to have caught two trains and a bus just to be in there too.

• So Leon and Taka are sat in their favourite cafe, enjoying each other's company.

• When Leon sees a familiar face on the other side of the street. Heading this way.

• 'Oh fuck.'

• Taka's super confused as his boyfriend ducks down, covering his face with his jacket, looking intensely uncomfortable.

• 'Are you okay?'

• 'My cousin's here.'

• 'Your cousin?'

• Glancing out the window, Leon sees that Kanon is heading straight for the cafe and tries to shrink further down under the table.

• Why is she here?! What is he supposed to do?! And what about Taka?! What will she do to him?!

• The cafe door jingles open and he KNOWS it's her so he grabs the menu and tries to cover his face...

• Not knowing that Kanon knows JUST who to look for and bounds right over with a big smile.

• 'Hi Lee!!'

• He pries his face away from the menu, barely able to look her in the eye as he smiles uncomfortably.

• 'H-hey, Kanon...'

• 'I'm just meeting a friend and she's a BIG fan of yours and wanted to see if I could introduce you...'

• 'S-sure...'

• 'And she told me you'd be here today so I thought we'd meet here! She said you'd be on a date! So...where is she?'

• The mood has DEFINITELY changed now. The glint in her eye at the mention of date was one of jealousy.

• 'C'mon, Lee! I wanna meet the girl that stole your heart! I bet she's SUUUUUPER sexy, right?'

• Her words are like knives, sickly sweet and dangerous...

• But Taka reads the situation and chimes in.

• 'He's meeting her later. He wanted a pep talk first so asked me here before he meets her.'

• LIES! Kanon KNOWS that filthy boy is LYING and the glare she sends his way is completely opposite to the personality she's shown so far.

• But in a flash, she smiles back at Leon and slides into the seat next to him.

• 'Great! Let's hang out then, Lee! It's been wayyyy too long!'

• Taka REALLY isn't comfortable with what's happening.

• This girl, who must still be about 15, is pressed up far too much to her cousin - touching his arm VERY inappropriately and with her face FAR too close to be innocent.

• And Leon looks terrified - pressed right up against the window to try and be as far as possible but is quite obviously trapped.

• 'I think Leon needs a bit of space...'

• 'No this is how we ALWAYS are! We're SUPER close, aren't we Lee?'

• 'Leon doesn't look comfortable.'

• 'I said we're close. I don't need to listen to you.'

• 'I really think you should back off a bit.'

• 'And I think you should go to HELL!'

• Aha. Here we go. The act has dropped and there's a possessive, dangerous look in her eye as she snarls towards Taka.

• 'What do YOU know about my Lee?'

• 'He's not 'your Lee'...'

• 'YES HE IS! HE'S MINE! And YOU can't have him!'

• Leon looks absolutely powerless as Kanon crushes herself against him - begging Taka to help him with tearful eyes as he shrinks into himself in shame.

• Yeah. Enough is enough.

• Taka stands up and grabs Leon by the hand - using his entire strength to pull him (and therefore Kanon) out of the stall and towards the door.

• 'GET OFF MY LEE!'

• The girl goes crazy, punching and kicking Taka in an attempt to stop him until she's held back by other concerned patrons of the cafe.

• 'I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU FOR STEALING HIM! I HATE YOU!'

• Taka makes sure to push Leon out of the cafe before heading back abd he glares down at the girl in front of him.

• 'If you truly give a damn about Leon, then you will realise just what damage you've done today. You've humilated him in public, you have degraded him and you have shown a side to yourself that I'm sure you'll be ashamed of. Your feelings are obsessive and you need to get some help.'

• All the rage and emotion floods out of Kanon as she sees Leon sobbing outside, guilt and embarrassment taking over as she truly sees what she has become.

• Oh but Taka isn't done.

• With an ice cold looks, he offers one final warning.

• 'If you EVER pull this kind of shit again, I will not hesitate to involve the police. I don't care who you are or how young you are. I will NOT tolerate MY boyfriend being abused by anyone - especially his own family. So stay the fuck away from him.'

• Of course, the date is over so the rest of the day is spent comforting Leon in the solitude of Taka's dorm.

• Leon tells Taka everything right from the beginning and Taka vows to himself that he will keep Leon safe.

• And who knows? Maybe one day Kanon will realise what she's done and bridges can be built once again.

• But that's not for now.

• For now, Taka needs to remind this beautiful boy in his arms just how much he means to him in every single way he can.

#kiyotaka ishimaru #leon kuwata #ishileon #kanon nakajima #tw: obsession #tw: obsessive behaviour #ask request #conicalcrowd

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stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

I know there are guys like this, Melissa thought to herself, guys like this all over the place. Guys that collect pictures of girls, built girls, save them all on their computers to do...ewww...whatever it is they do with them. She had some guys like that, still, she knew, as Instagram followers, even on her new, now-private profile. There was a smattering of guys, she knew, who basically stalked her, perved over her every post. She tended to indulge them, from time-to-time, throw them a little bone here or there, some cleavage, whatever. It was fun, for a while, she’d get a kick out of it, casually teasing these guys who simped for her. But it had kinda gotten old. Now it was more her friends who seemed to love it, love seeing it, love laughing at the guys. It was harmless enough fun, and these men were just sorta silly and pathetic. I just didn’t think Dr J was one of them…

She had needed to see for herself, have some time to process. It was eight AM but she’d needed to see for herself, all these pictures of her that Randi and Marisela told her he’d supposedly been hoarding on his office computer. On a Tuesday like this one she’d have plenty of time; he’d be doing his rounds at the hospital until mid-morning, when he’d return to the office. She’d closed his door so she’d be undisturbed as the other girls drifted into work. Melissa knew she needed to come to terms with this, and see what was on his computer for herself, especially after what Marisela had told her about what was going on….that kinda made her mad, too.

Okay, there it is, right where Marisela said it’d be, she thought. On his hard drive, the folder labeled “Protected”. Let’s see if this password works...

oh, my…

For some reason Melissa had found herself earlier this morning, while getting ready, almost unconsciously putting on heavier makeup, applying more layers of gloss and lipstick than she knew she should. She’d found herself pulling out a striped red dress, one that cinched too tight to her waist which - despite everything else getting bigger these days - seemed to be, if anything, slowly disappearing. This dress clung too tightly to her torso, she realized, its horizontal stripes only emphasizing the size of the bust she’d packed tightly this morning into her new, bigger bra. This dress was also wayyy too short, she knew, revealing too much of the long, flawless legs that she’d tanned to a deep olive in her week in the sun, sculpted in the gym to heavily-muscled perfection. It covered her overly-shapely rear, she also knew, but left little to the imagination as to its full size; her ass had grown huge, recently, and this dress surely did nothing to hide that. The heels she chose - yellow and too tall, really, to be appropriate for the office - would only highlight the muscle tone of her already large calves, make her glutes look even fuller, shift her weight to pull her shoulders back, further emphasizing her bust and exaggerating the already unmistakeably feminine aspects of her gait. Her hair, as well, she’d fluffed out more than usual this morning...why? The one thing she found herself foregoing, though, was perfume. I’ve been making enough of that myself, already, she’d thought, I don’t need it.

Oh, no, look at all this, Melissa lamented, finally opening the folder labeled “Melissa” and then audibly gasping at its contents...countless pictures of her. Where did he find it all? How much time has he spent collecting these?? She began to scroll through the thumbnails, everything from current images grabbed from her Instagram to old modeling pics he must have found in the internet to...where did he ever find these ones from Hooters?!?

Suddenly she was overcome when an image of him - sitting in this very chair, looking at these pictures and rubbing himself, sliding his hand into his pants - flashed into her head.

Is that what you do with these? Why else would you be...collecting them? Oh, Dr. J...not you, too?

As she marveled, wide-eyed, beginning to grasp the enormity of his collection, of just how many pictures of her he’d accumulated, it dawned on her: he also has dozens upon dozens of pictures of her in a bikini, from the past week - on his ph-..oh, wait. Oh god. He’s downloaded them all into here already...there’s a whole folder, a new one, called “conference”.

Part of me wishes they never told me...

She flashed back, for the moment, to early yesterday morning, Monday in her new office with Randi and Marisela…

“...we got in last week, finally, Marisela cracked it,” Randi had said, “I just knew he’d have a porn stash. But that there’s so much of YOU in it…?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry Melissa,” Marisela had added, “The guy’s a total perv. We’ve known that for years…”

If nothing else she marveled, as she scrolled through the thumbnails, at his diligence, I haven’t seen some of these in ages.

Another image flashed into her head, again him sitting at this desk with these pictures - god, he’s much smaller than me, isn’t he? He wouldn’t fill up this chair nearly as much as I do - with his pants unzipped, pulled down his hips, he’s groaning. Looking at these pictures, zooming in on that one.

His legs are so skinny compared to mine, she thought, as she felt her own body unconsciously flexing, his arms and shoulders so thin and weak.

Why...why did this make her shiver a bit? Why did her mind keep picturing him...wanting to see him when he’d opened up this folder and started to-

But he shouldn’t be doing this! It’s like cheating on his wife. No matter what’s going on between him and Sheryl, he’s still a married man. Melissa could understand why Sheryl’d be mad. Yes, but…

Melissa flashed back again...

“Why are you so shocked?” Randi had asked her, “They’re all like this, every single one. Every single boss you’d ever had.”

At first, she admits, she was shocked. She couldn’t believe what they’d told her, shown her with the screen caps from his desktop - it can’t be!! this is the honorable, upstanding, respectable Dr J!! He’s not like the rest of them, all those other guys, is he?? Obsessive, fixated...

After the initial shock, the disbelief, she got kinda angry - she took this job thinking she was going to be valued for her brains, education, skills. She thought this job would allow her to develop in ways that other jobs, with other bosses, hadn’t. She’d always been a special girl, different from the rest. She had a unique way, she knew, of “growing into the job” - it’s what her mother called it. “Rising to the challenge of a new endeavor” she’d said, become what would allow her the greatest success. Problem had always been, though, that the best way to succeed at her old jobs had turned out to be the same. At Hooters it made sense, even in high school. But with frustration she’d found the same thing happened to her at Nordstrom’s, at the DMV, and at the Dealership. Instead of getting smarter, learning more, becoming more able and capable, she’d just gotten...curvier. Added cup sizes, inches to her hips. This job, after finally getting her degree, was supposed to be different. But now, seeing this screenshot of dozens of pictures of her from her boss’ porn stash, she was finally convinced that, once again she was hired just for her tits. She knew, of course, that he’d found her attractive. That he, being just a guy, could be pretty easily manipulated if she set her mind - and hourglass figure - to it. That she could get what she wanted at the office, be successful in her new position, because of her appearance. That would explain the two - no, three - new sets of bras. Why she’d torn through her yoga pants last week. His tastes were for curves upon curves...lots of guys’ were. And she figured she was growing faster here than at the old jobs because, well...she had become his friend. She’d spent more time with him. She’d grown to, well...really like him, more than she’d ever really admit. So maybe there were other things fueling her, uh, developments. But, again - he was married!

It was so confusing!

She could help it, another image came to her. This time he was still here alone in his office, maybe after hours, doors locked, knowing he’s alone - but now he was blatantly jerking off, pants down, around his ankles. Jerking off and leering at these pictures of her, this time looking - ohh why is this doing this to me?? Making my heart race?? - even smaller. He seemed to be shrunken, a small, small man, wide-eyed and staring, unblinking, at his screen. He was grunting, like a little animal, and shaking back and forth with his efforts.

She flashed back again...

”I know, I know,” Melissa had said, bemoaning this new situation, as if she was grieving some loss, “I know I had him up on a pedestal. I know it was maybe unreasonable. But now….now what am I supposed to do?”

“Missy, relax,” Randi had replied, “Just think- who was able to take him down off of that pedestal? Who did he have pictures of on his computer in a folder that he’s accessed...look at this...more than -four hundred- times? You! You! Face it You got where you are not just through hard work at school. You did hard work at the gym, building yourself in other ways. Despite everything you rose up at Hooters, at the DMV, at the dealership. You are YOU, and that’s what’s bringing you all this success. You as a person, your mind and your body.”

”I guess you’re right…” Melissa had said.

“Of course I am,” Randi had replied, “Use it all, use all you got. Not just your degree-“ At that she’d reached out and grabbed Melissa’s huge breasts, hands sinking into her pliancy, “but these too! Women have to use everything they have to take what they can get.”

The next image, in her mind, was one where he’s dramatically smaller still: How did he even get into the chair? He’s so little... His feet, dangling above the ground, hovered over his pants, now in a pile. He’s naked, in fact, and he’s so small he can barely see over the desk to the monitor, can barely reach his mouse to scroll, to click, to open picture after picture after picture of her. His groans and grunts have changed to whines and he sounds so needy as he’s trying and trying and trying to-

Groaning herself, Melissa was nearly overcome with the thought, and had to catch herself from sliding her hand between her own thick, bare thighs. What was this warmth? What was this subtle swelling in her chest? Why is this doing this to me?!?

She flashes back again

“I guess it can't be helped, looking the way I do...” Melissa said, still in half-pout.

“Don't feel bad, Missy, this is good,” Randi said, as Marisela just watched, observing these two, trying not to judge, learning, “Look at these folders he has - it’s not all of you. Look at all these pictures, these videos. It’s...worshipful. He’s in sheer awe of these women, and you’re one of them.”

Melissa nodded, new wheels, gears in the machinery of her inner self that she didn’t know existed, cranking to life, beginning to turn.

“You can use this to your advantage - to our advantage,” Randi added, encouraging her friend. Though remaining quiet, Marisela’s own pulse had begun to race, listening, hearing the subtext, thinking back on the conversations she and Randi had had. For her own part, Melissa’s feelings were still conflicted. Petulant anger and outright female outrage were at odds with the genuine affection she felt for him, an affection that more and more had been turning into...something deeper. A tugging at her belly. Something rich and wonderful she saw blossoming, when she closed her eyes and thought of him...thought of holding, thought of-

“If he honesty gets off to this sort of thing,” Randi pressed on, pointing at folders in the screenshot image from his desktop, folders labeled “Breast Expansion” or “Amazons” - “if that’s what he really wants....well, Missy. You could make him the happiest man on earth...”

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

Original morph in the first image by Migsanch, and help with some of the dialogue by Antares.

#Growing Into the Job

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captainneverever · 4 years

Text

Runaway Groom

Tony shakily holds his phone. He’s outside on a balcony overlooking a moon-lit ocean, the warm August breeze ruffling his hair.

His thumb hovers over the number.

He should talk to Rhodey, his best bro forever. But this isn’t something he can talk to Rhodey about. HIs gut tells him that. Even if Rhodey is only on the other side of the sliding glass door behind him and Steve five years in the past.

Steve had thrown him a life-line once and Tony now needed to grab it.

He is in Park Slope -- a mere two hour drive away. Tony knows, because he’s been obsessively stalking Steve’s Instagram for the past two days.

It’s do or die. He risks it all by calling. No one ever wants to talk on the phone these days. But if Tony can’t reach Steve now, his chance evaporates into the air. Tony returns to the party, goes to bed at a reasonable time, and get up at 10 am to ready for his wedding.

“Tony?” Steve asks and frankly scares the hell out of Tony.

He can see beautiful warm smiling Steve, his shirt tight and stained from his morning run, just like the picture he posted on Instagram a couple of hours ago.

“Hey, I’m in town.” Tony goes for a casual breezy tone, even if his heart is beating wildly from anxiety and terror and fear of rejection. “Free for a drink?”

He can sense that Steve is hesitating. Yeah, yeah, bad idea. It’s already eight-thirty at night and people will be wondering where he is any minute now. The intense need for escape has settled in his bones and won’t let him go.

He just needs to talk to someone who knew who he was five years ago. That time before Tony gave up and settled for being just like his father. He silently begs Steve.

“Yeah but where do you want to meet?”

“Park Slope?”

That hesitation seeps into Steve’s voice. “Aren’t you in the Hamptons -- I saw --”

“Steve.” Tony’s voice cracks with desperation.

“Sure. Okay. Meet me at Three Brothers Pizza -- it’s around the corner from me. I’ll text you the address. I’ll be waiting.”

Tony is flooded with relief as he sneaks down to his car and away from the party. He is soon speeding on small local roads that rapidly evolve into the lighted I-495 highway into Brooklyn.

Damn, Steve had been everything that summer five years ago. He’d been working on contract for Stark Industries when Tony met him. Bigger than life, more beautiful than Tony’s AI programs, Steve had blown up Tony’s world. They’d spent all their time together, playing games, arguing over movies, going to the beach. Tony had not felt more alive than hiking next to Steve and watching the stars in the sky.

The thing was that Steve was going to Europe at the end of the summer.

That last night when they promised to stay in touch and all that jazz, Tony confessed his fear of turning into Howard. Steve promised him that he would never be like Howard. Their hands brushed and Tony had wanted to kiss Steve so much in that moment -- and didn’t.

Tony was not gay. It was not okay for Tony to be gay. Fine for artist Steve to be gay and date gay guys and be happy with being gay. But not for Tony.

“If you ever need to talk, call me,” Steve said before he headed off to the airport.

After that summer, Tony lost himself and lost contact with Steve. Instead of being the brave strong person Steve believed in, Tony worked only harder to be like Howard. He buried himself more into work at Stark Industries and making it rain in R&D with government contracts. Howard was happy and was even happier when Tony got engaged to Maya, who ran an up and coming biotech firm.

A wedding and marriage so perfect that the Daily Bugle would be covering the event and fashion and gossip blogs had breathlessly covered all the arrangements from the dress to the guest list.

Tony should be more worried about how the wedding was going to turn out than finding parking in Park Slope on a busy summer night. He feels a pang of guilt not telling Rhodey where he went but he’s just having a drink or two with an old friend and then driving back to East Hampton. No one ever has to know what he did. He pays for a couple of hours of parking and looks for the restaurant.

Steve in person is even better than his pictures or Tony’s memories. He’s even more gorgeous in his blue shirt and tight jeans. Tony is gobsmacked and at a loss for words when Steve says hello in that low gravely voice.

Turns out that Three Brothers Pizza is owned by one of Steve’s friends, Bucky. “We can stay here as long as we like,” Steve says. “I have a set of keys.”

“And know the owner.”

They order drinks and pizza. Steve shines that smile at him that is now making Tony dizzy. “What have you been up to?” he asks. It’s clear to Tony that Steve knows he’s getting married, that’s why he’s in New York, not California.

But they don’t talk about that. They talk about the past five years, what they’ve done, where they’ve gone, what they’re doing now. Tony is shocked to find that he’s happy that Steve doesn’t have a special guy, not even dating. It’s wrong that his heart thumped a little and the blood rushed to his face when Steve said he was still single. Steve deserved the best person in the world, not to be alone.

It’s long past midnight, the staff have cleaned up the restaurant, Bucky’s told Steve to remember to lock up when they leave. And Tony can’t stop talking to Steve. It’s 3 am and he should be in East Hampton and all he wants to do is keep talking with Steve.

He turns off his phone when he sees the text from Rhodey. Steve notices and arches an eyebrow. Tony blurts out, “I can’t go back.”

“Let’s go to my place -- you can get some sleep and then decide,” Steve replies.

“You’re being irredeemably practical,” Tony declares.

Steve grins and turns off the lights in the restaurant. They walk the block to Steve’s apartment. His roommate Sam is away for the weekend so they have the place to themselves.

Tony doesn’t want to go to sleep because the night would be over. Steve hands him a towel and a spare toothbrush and points him to his bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” Steve says.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Tony insists. He puts down the towel and toothbrush in the tiny bathroom.

“You need the sleep.”

They’re in the hallway and Tony looks up at Steve. And Steve hugs him, engulfing him in his large arms and just holds Tony. Tony loses it and cries against Steve’s shoulder. Steve pats him on the back. “It’s going to be fine, Tony,” he whispering trying to reassure him.

Tony doesn’t want to ever let go. Every nerve in his body is tingling and he’s never felt more alive. And all he has to do is lift his chin, close his eyes and he can kiss Steve. He can feel it -- Steve’s lips on his -- and he knows in his gut that Steve would be a good kisser. He wants it to happen badly. He needs it.

And Steve breaks off the hug. “It’s late, Tony.”

Tony can only nod. Rejected and dejected, he slumps over to Steve’s dark bedroom, the black out curtains drawn closed. He turns to say good night to Steve and sees the conflicted look on his face. Steve cares, Steve cares a lot. Maybe even loves Tony.

Tony’s world shatters around him.

“I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.”

Steve says, “See you in a few hours. It’s already morning.”

He pulls the covers up and settles into the bed. He draws a shaky breath as he reconsiders everything he ever knew. Steve has given him all the answers he needs. One step further and Tony really does turn into Howard. He’s halfway there now with denying who he fundamentally is and lying to himself. Next step is cheating, followed up with even more drinking and family neglect and alienation. He’s only in his 20s and he can see how horribly wrong his life can go if he stays on this path.

He tosses and turns and finally falls into a restless sleep.

Tony startles awake when Steve knocks on the door. He has breakfast burritos and hot coffee. Tony props himself up in the bed when Steve sits down. “Wow, thanks.”

“Thought you could use some food. Going to be a long day.”

Tony’s eyes go wide and he scrambles for his phone. It’s 10:30 am, he’s very very late, and people are blowing up his phone. “Oh.”

“Yeah, your car’s been towed.”

Tony sniffs, then giggles, then laughs so hard that his sides hurt and the bag of burritos nearly falls off the bed. “It’s going to take a few hours to spring it from car jail.” He laughs again.

Steve hands him his coffee and gets up to open the curtains. He’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and he looks just as good as he did the night before. Tony sips his coffee and basks in the warm late morning sunlight.

He caught that lifeline.

He’s been reborn and everything is new to him. It feels great, tremendous, real and the best he’s felt in years. All the curled up tension and pain is evaporating into the air and Tony is light and bouncy and brand-new and filled with feelings he has yet to name. He’s got time and desire. He wants to be whole.

Steve is back sitting on the bed again with his own coffee and breakfast burrito. Tony has no words for how he feels being so close to Steve but he’ll figure it out. “Got plans today? I could use the help.”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing planned.” Steve puts his cup on the floor and puts on his serious face. “But, Tony, don’t you have to be somewhere?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p.’

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’d bet my life on it.” He could get a ride to East Hampton if he wanted to. He isn’t moving from Steve’s bed that had that enticing Steve-scent if he could help it. “No plans at all.”

Steve’s phone rings. “Yes. This is Steve Rogers. Um.” He glances over at Tony so Tony knows that he’s the subject of the call. He sits up straighter waiting for the shoe to drop. “Tony Stark? He’s here.” He put the phone down. “Tony, it’s your friend Rhodey. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want.”

“Then I don’t.”

Steve nudged him. “He’s worried and you should tell someone that you’re not getting married.”

Chill sweeps through Tony as his old life reaches out to grab him. “Steve --”

“It’s going to okay. Rhodey is your best friend -- wouldn’t he want the best for you?” Steve reassured him.

Tony takes the phone. Rhodey of course unloads his worry and his fear. Pepper already has a plan to get him back for the wedding. Tony cuts him off. “I’m not getting married. It’s off.”

The relief in Rhodey’s voice overwhelms Tony, making him question what Rhodey really thought about him getting married in the first place. “Okay. You have to tell Maya.”

Tony makes his phone calls, taking the blows of anger and hate from his parents and Maya. The PR person and the wedding planner would handle the rest. In the meantime, Steve gets changed and find Tony clothes.

He smiles at Steve. He can’t tell yet where his journey will take him. All he knows is that he’s not getting married today, might not go back to Stark Industries, and isn’t likely straight either. He fervently hopes that Steve is part of the journey and maybe even the end.

But he does know he has to get the car out of car jail.

“Sure about this, Steve? Hunting down the car? Hanging out?” Tony scans Steve’s face to see if Steve is thinking of bailing because his question is more than retrieving a car from a tow yard.

“I don’t give up,” Steve replies, answering Tony’s unspoken questions. “You’ll need this.” He tossed a motorcycle helmet to Tony. “We’ll sort out the rest later.”

Tony squeezes Steve’s hand and they head out.

#stevetony #stony #my fic #mcu au

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fridayfirefly · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found [Part Eight]

Masterlist | Ao3

Time passed, and Marinette loved every second of it, especially the time she spent with her friends. By the time she graduated from collège and moved onto lycée, her group of friends had expanded. She, Nino, Kim, Alix, Chloé, and Adrien spent as much time as they could together. The group of six had started an unofficial language-learning club. Marinette, Nino, and Chloé all made a pact to learn English, their Soulmates' primary language. Kim, Alix, and Adrien chose Japanese as their language of choice. For a while, Marinette was exceptionally proud of herself for taking the initiative to learn English, until she learned that her Soulmate's actual native language was Arabic. It took only five minutes of begging for Nino to agree to teach Marinette Arabic. She didn't pick it up as naturally as she picked up English, but after three years, she got rather proficient.

Time passed, and Marinette yearned for her Soulmate. Every Friday night for three years, she spent with her five best friends in the world. They baked cookies, watched movies, and stayed up late talking about Soulmates. But there was always something missing - her Soulmate. Marinette desperately wanted to meet him, but she knew that neither of them was ready. They were both too young. Marinette's parents didn't want her to meet him until she was at least sixteen. Still, Marinette thought that she deserved to at least know his name. After all, he learned her name when they were fourteen. Marinette had slipped up and sent him a picture of one of her pieces of artwork, a piece with her signature at the bottom. When Marinette asked him to return the favor, he decided, citing that their previous agreement to not reveal names until they were sixteen was still in effect. Marinette knew he was right. Learning more information about him would only increase the temptation to try and discover his identity, and discovering his identity would only lead to her trying to meet with him. But understanding didn't make it any easier, not when she so desperately wanted to hold his hand and talk all night with him - in person, not through paper.

Time passed, and Marinette got better at being Ladybug. She and Chat Noir learned how to work together. At first, it was a little rocky. Marinette was her clumsy self, tripping over her yo-yo string and falling flat on her face every time she tried to use her new wings. Chat Noir was a good partner, though it took him some time to figure out how to work as a team. Eventually, they both perfected their roles as Paris's superheroes. Things only got better after the superhero duo revealed their identities to each other. Learning that Chat Noir was actually her friend Adrien Agreste was a relief - Marinette already had so much on her plate, and Adrien helped take some of the load off of it.

Time passed, and the burden of fighting Hawkmoth decreased. At first, fighting him felt like a full-time job. Marinette and Adrien had to transform at all hours of the day, and sometimes the fights would last hours and require multiple retransformations. For two sleep-deprived thirteen-year-olds, it felt like hell. But eventually, Hawkmoth's attacks decreased. A viral campaign, started by none other than Chloé Bourgeoise, called on the people of Paris to be kinder to each other, to help strangers in need, to do whatever they could to prevent akumas, instead of simply waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir to fix everything. Amazingly, it seemed to work. Hawkmoth's akumas didn't stop entirely, but overall they grew less powerful, and eventually, less frequent. Tikki and Master Fu both had their own theories for Hawkmoth's gradual decline, but Marinette believed wholeheartedly that it was Chloé's doing.

Time passed, and Marinette changed. She started as an awkward thirteen-year-old, desperately trying to juggle her Ladybug responsibilities, her schoolwork, and her relationship with her Soulmate. Three years later, and Marinette was sixteen. Confident, capable, and ready for anything. She wasn't perfect, she knew that, but Marinette felt that she just might be prepared to meet Damian.

Time passed, and Marinette and her Soulmate passed notes constantly. Three years of notes required five separate shoe boxes just to hold them all. Every one in a while, Marinette would go back and read them all.

I played my first video game today and it was more enjoyable than I expected. My friend Jon got it for me. It's called Ultimate Mecha Strike III, and apparently, his Soulmate recommended it to him. It's really popular in France, but it hasn't caught on in the United States yet. It has a multiplayer mode, so if you play it too, maybe we could play together sometime. D.

After many months of waiting, my eldest brother finally took the engagement ring out of his sock drawer. If he doesn't propose soon I fear that I might have to do it for him. D.

The macarons you sent me this morning were absolutely heavenly. Unfortunately, I made the grave mistake of sharing them with my family. If you do not send more soon, there might be a riot in my house. D.

I passed my driving test this morning. Now that I finally have my license, my brothers will stop bothering me about my illegal driving. It's not my fault that where I live, you can only get legally licensed once you reach sixteen. Frankly, I don't think I should have had to abide by it because it's a rule made for children with poor risk assessment skills. My risk assessment skills are above average, and they have always been. D.

Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Marinette. I hope that you have a wonderful day today, and I hope that this year is the year we finally get to meet face to face. Damian W.

However, it wasn't until the day of Damian's seventeenth birthday, March 19th, that Marinette and Damian finally took the first step towards meeting each other in person.

On the morning of Damian's birthday, Marinette woke up early and headed down to the kitchen. Damian's favorite treat was Marinette's lemon raspberry macarons, so it was a birthday (and half-birthday) tradition that Marinette would bake him a whole batch and send them to him one-by-one throughout the day. The macarons were just a small gift for him, though. Marinette's real birthday gift for Damian was a project she had been working on for weeks. It had taken hours upon hours of practice just to become proficient enough at knitting to even think about beginning the project, but Marinette was nothing if not persistent, especially when it came to the people she cared about. Her gift to Damian was a knitted blanket, but not just any knitted blanket. It was made of soft dark blue and white wool. Marinette had painstakingly knitted it so that it contained the same constellations as would be above Paris on the night of Damian's birthday. So that tonight, even though we are miles apart, we can be under the same night sky. Marinette hoped he would like it. Her friends all assured her that he would (Nino, hopeless romantic that he was, was brought to tears when he read the note, which Marinette hoped was a good sign).

It wasn't until late that night when Marinette was sending the last macaron to Damian, that she finally decided to send her gift.

Every day, I am amazed by you, Marinette. Your creative talent astounds me every time I look at something you created. I will treasure this blanket forever. Damian.

Marinette blushed. The only downside of meeting Damian was that he would see exactly what his words did to her, specifically, the amount that she blushed on a daily basis just from reading the notes he sent to her.

Marinette was getting ready for bed when she received another note. She was immediately curious, as this one was in an envelope.

After the longest engagement in the world (3 years, can you believe it) my brother and future sister-in-law have finally set the date for their wedding. If you are able, I would love for you to be my date for the ceremony. You wouldn't have to worry about a hotel or transportation - my house has a spare bedroom that you can sleep in. You could stay for as long as you'd like, though I know that your internship at Agreste Fashion starts on the 29th, so I'm sure you'll want to be home in time for that. I hope that I can see you soon. Damian.

Attached to the note were a wedding invitation and a plane ticket. The invitation was beautifully designed, cream paper trimmed and decorated in gold foil. YOU'RE INVITED. The ▇▇▇ family invites you to celebrate the union between ▇▇▇ and ▇▇▇. The ceremony will be held on Saturday, June 20th at 5 o'clock at ▇▇▇ Gotham, NJ.

Marinette frowned. He had blacked out the names of his brother and his brother's fiancée, as well as the street address of the wedding location. "I'm not that obsessive," Marinette complained to herself. In fairness, while her actions used to border on stalking, she had mellowed out over the past few years, partially due to becoming Ladybug.

The plane ticket didn't have anything blacked out, though none of the information gave Marinette any hints to Damian's identity, other than the fact that he lived in or around Gotham. It was a standard ticket. American Airlines. The date and time of departure: Wednesday, June 17th, at midnight. The most surprising part of it was that he booked her a first-class seat.

"So sweet," smiled Marinette, "But you didn't have to."

There was one glaring problem in her going to Gotham for a week - Hawkmoth. But his attacks happened so infrequently, practically once a month at that point, that Marinette didn't think it should be her biggest concern. A quick internet search revealed that in the worst-case scenario, a nonstop flight from Gotham to Paris was seven hours. While Hawkmoth could certainly do damage in those seven hours, the miraculous cure would reverse all of the damage. Marinette knew it was slightly irresponsible of her, to put her Soulmate responsibilities over her Ladybug responsibilities, but she pushed the thoughts out of her mind. For once, she was going to make a selfish choice. Without even alerting Tikki of the situation, Marinette snagged a piece of notebook paper off of her desk and penned a note to her Soulmate.

To start, I would love to be your date to your brother's wedding. It might take a little bit of convincing to get Maman and Papa on board but I'm pretty sure I can get them to agree. I am sixteen now, after all. Also, you didn't have to spend so much money on the plane ticket. You're already letting me stay with you at your house. I would have been fine flying coach.

I’m glad you liked my birthday present. Hopefully, my next gift to you will be given in person. I’ll be counting down the days until I arrive in Gotham. ~~Marinette~~

Marinette sent the note off, going to bed before waiting for a reply. After all, she would need to be well-rested for a long day of convincing her parents to let her travel to Gotham alone.

——————————————————————

“No way. Gotham is one of the most dangerous cities in America. I’m not letting you travel there alone.”

"But Papa-"

"No."

Marinette frowned. Breakfast had gone a lot worse than she had expected. While she knew her Dad would put up a fuss, she hadn't anticipated him being so dead set against her going. It was Marinette own fault, for not preparing for the argument with her Dad, for trying to pass the trip off as "no big deal", for not doing her research on the crime rates in Gotham (apparently they were exceptionally high, nearly twice as dangerous as Paris). Marinette thought that the discussion would be fairly simple, but her Dad wouldn't budge.

"Tom, she has to meet Damian at some point. This is a good opportunity for her to get to know him and his family." Marinette's Mom was tentatively on her side, but Marinette could tell that even she wasn't fully on board with the plan.

I won't have Marinette traveling halfway across the world, unaccompanied, just to meet her Soulmate."

"What if I wasn't unaccompanied?" asked Marinette.

"It would be too difficult for us to take a week off from the bakery, you know that, Marinette," said Mom. "There's just no way that this trip of yours will work. I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

Marinette sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine," she whispered. Abandoning her half-finished breakfast muffin, Marinette grabbed her backpack and left the kitchen. "I'm off to school. Not sure whether or not I'll be home for lunch."

Marinette spent the walk to school holding back angry tears. Her parents promised her that she could meet her Soulmate when she turned sixteen. Yet now that she had the opportunity, they were opposed to it just because they didn't like the city he lived it. (In the back of her mind, Marinette knew that they were just looking out for her, but at that moment, missing the wedding felt like the end of the world).

"What's got you in such a bad mood?" asked Chloé as soon as Marinette sat down next to her.

The entire group of friends all had independent study together first thing in the morning, so all eyes were on Marinette when she pulled the envelope out of her backpack. Spilling the documents inside across the table, Marinette said, "Damian invited me to his brother's wedding, which would be wonderful, except my parents won't let me go because it's in Gotham."

"Gotham as in Batman and Robin?" asked Kim.

"Yep. Apparently, the crime rates are really bad, and my parents think it's too dangerous for me to go there alone."

Chloé picked up the invitation, furrowing her brow as she read it. "This is going to seem crazy, but look at this." Chloé grabbed a book out of her backpack, the copy of Pride and Prejudice that she had gotten so long ago, and opened up the front cover. Tucked inside was the same wedding invitation that Marinette had. "Yesterday, my Soulmate invited me to his brother's wedding as his plus one."

Marinette's eyes widened. "You mean-"

"Damian and J.T. are brothers."

Nino cleared his throat. "I got this from Jon this morning." He held the same invitation in his hands. "Jon says that his family is really close to the family of the groom, and Jon's brother is dating one of the groom's brothers."

"Just how many brothers are there in this family," Alix exclaimed.

"I suppose Damian has at least three," said Marinette. "He talked about his brother's a lot, but I never really connected the dots that there were three of them."

"Wait a minute," said Chloé. "If Nino and I go with you, you won't be going unaccompanied."

"We should all go," Nino suggested.

Kim shook his head. "Alix and I are spending all of June in Japan with Kagami, remember."

"Maybe next summer then," Chloé decided. "We should all take one big vacation somewhere next summer. Maybe a cruise."

While Chloé was brainstorming vacation ideas, Adrien had pulled out his phone to check his calendar. "Damn," he swore. "I have Fashion Week in New York City from the fourteenth to the twentieth. There's no way my Father would let me miss that."

"Maybe you could come afterward," suggested Marinette. "Gotham is only a two-hour drive from New York City. You could be in Gotham on the twenty-first, and you'll still get to spend time with us."

Adrien nodded. "I think that might work. Father would make me bring a bodyguard, though."

"Even better. There's no way my parents could complain about me being unaccompanied if I had a trained bodyguard with me for nearly all of the week."

"Then it's a plan," Chloé sounded excited.

"I can't wait," said Marinette, her mind already starting to daydream about her future trip to Gotham, to see Damian in person for the first time.

——————————————————————

Good news, Damian. I got my parents to agree to let me travel to Gotham. It's a bit of a long story, and I think I might wait to tell you about it until I can tell you in person. Also, you'll have to send me the dress code so I can start making my dress.

I'd like to stay in Gotham until the 27th if you're able to have me for that long. I'll leave early that morning, so I'll have a day to adjust to the jetlag.

There are 89 days left until I get on the plane to Gotham, which means that there are approximately 2136 hours until I meet you face to face. I might die from the wait, but I know that it will be worth it when I get to see your pretty face. ~~Marinette~~

Marinette felt her guilt grow every day that she didn't tell Tikki about the wedding. Marinette didn't like keeping secrets from Tikki, but she also knew what Tikki was like when she was disappointed, and it made her cringe away from the idea of telling her. But enough was enough, and a week after Marinette agreed to go, she brought it up to Tikki.

"Hey Tikki?"

"Yes, Marinette."

"How bad do you think it would be if Chat and I took a vacation in June."

Tikki narrowed her eyes in thought. "A train from London to Paris can make the journey in just under two hours. It's not ideal, but a vacation would be doable."

"I wasn't exactly thinking of England."

"Germany then? Spain? Switzerland? They're all a little further away, but another hour isn't the end of the world."

"I was thinking..." Marinette hesitated. "I was thinking Gotham. To meet Damian."

"No way."

"But Tikki, you don't understand."

"A flight from America to Paris would take far too long in an emergency."

"It's seven hours. You said another hour isn't the end of the world. What's another three or four?"

"Ladybug is not a hobby, Marinette. It's a full-time responsibility. You know that."

Marinette felt like her arguments were going nowhere. "Tikki, listen to me. Hawkmoth's attacks have been more and more infrequent lately. It's over halfway through March now, and we've only had four so far this year. All four were very weak akumas. Chat and I defeated them all in less than twenty minutes. Hawkmoth, for whatever reason, isn't attacking with the same level of danger as before."

"Hawkmoth is still a threat."

"I understand that, but a flight from Gotham to Paris is seven hours. While the akumas would cause damage during those seven hours-"

"-and that damage to Paris would damage the reputations of Ladybug and Chat Noir. The citizens of Paris will spend seven hours believing that they've been abandoned by Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"We can fix any physical damage. As for damage to our reputations, it wouldn't be that hard to record a message telling everyone to remain calm and wait for us to show up. It wouldn't be great for our reputations, that's true, but I’ve given the last three years of my life to Ladybug. I deserve to be Marinette for a little bit.”

“I- I- Fine,” Tikki sighed. “You and Chat do deserve a break. I’m sorry for being so unreasonable.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re just looking out for Paris, in case I get a little too wrapped up in my own life. We balance each other out.”

Tikki nodded, her smile returning. “Life is better with a little bit of balance.”

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#Lost and Found #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #my work #fanfic #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #daminette

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

Ok so like I’m big dumb and have been stalking your blog for hours and just realized the tua should be pronounced like too ripppp anygays I absolutely fucking love and live for your writing and have a question for you (feel free to ignore it this is your blog!),,,,what do you think would’ve happened if Klaus had died instead of Ben.

asdfgDFSGH okay big mood but admittedly I pronounce as in too-ah deep myself lmao

HMMM that’s an interesting question because if Klaus died, he would just vanish. No one can see him, because he’s the only person that ever saw ghosts to begin with. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around, does it still make a sound? If a boy becomes a ghost, but no one can see him, does he really exist?

You have Ben, who doesn’t numb himself with drugs but also probably withdraws from the rest of the family. Klaus used to coax smiles out of him, and Five used to throw books at his dead and demand Ben discuss metaphysics with him. Admittedly different relationships, but they were the ones that held him together. And then Five vanishes. And then Klaus dies.

And Ben is well enough liked by the rest of the family, but he’s not really close with any of them. Luther and Allison are too obsessed with one another, Diego is too obsessed with beating Luther at anything, and Vanya is a ghost that only Five ever really reached.

Ben leaves the day he hits eighteen. He doesn’t tell anyone, he just leaves. He quietly finds the shittiest apartment on earth, works two jobs, and puts himself through community college during the time he doesn’t have. He changes his name. He keeps the Ben, but ditches the Hargreeves.

He keeps his head down, he works hard, he never mentions the Umbrella Academy and he spends his nights with his hands pressed against his stomach wishing that his ‘superpower’ was anything but what it is.

He’s a bright kid. He makes friends. He doesn’t have the money for med school, which he wanted since he desperately wants to heal instead of hurt, so he compromises and goes into nursing instead. He gets to help people just as much, and he doesn’t have to deal with the staggering amount of debt he would be in. (He’s still in debt from schooling, just not as much.)

Ben works long thankless hours. He holds the hands of an addict whose organs are failing. There’s nothing the doctors can do but ease the young woman’s suffering. He sees Klaus in the eyes of the desperate young people who come in, and he rolls up his sleeves and tries to help.

Vanya write her tell-all book, and Ben reads it as carefully as he did the various tomes that Five tossed at him so he would know what Five was yelling about this time. He traces his fingers across Klaus and Five’s names as they appear, and he pretends he isn’t angry that Vanya just pulled back the curtain and exposed their gaping wounds for all the world to see.

Five and Klaus are not props in Vanya’s coming of age story. They are background characters killed off for development. Ben understands that Vanya is angry, that she was abused, but he wishes she could see that this wasn’t the way to go about it

(Ben understands now, that Vanya was abused. He sees her, sometimes, in the people who float through the hospital with scars on their arms and legs and stomachs. The ones who stare right through the doctors and look away when their very concerned parents speak up. He sees her in the young man whose father yells for all the ED to hear that he is selfish, that he needs to be more like his older brothers who are successful. The father is escorted out, but the young man checks himself out against medical advice. Ben never sees him again.)

He isn’t as impacted by the book as perhaps the others are. No one knows what happened to the Horror. Ben isn’t questioned about it, because no one knows that they should question him about it. He watches the youtube videos of Allison getting accosted by paparazzi and wonders if Vanya knew what she was doing when she published that book.

Somehow, he doubts it.

He adopts two cats. Their names are Séance and Boy. Ben calls them Seya and Brat. His friends ask him if he was a fan of the Umbrella Academy growing up, and Ben shakes his head with a wry smile. “My brothers,” He explains, “They were always more into it than I was.”

And then Reginald dies, and there’s going to be a funeral, and Ben doesn’t want to go. But he thinks about the siblings he never calls, thinks about the hospital room with the old man who is dying who told him with a bitter smile that he never mended any bridges, and picks up his phone. Ben applies for time off due to a death in the family, is granted it, gives his spare key to the girl across the hall who has vowed to take care of Seya and Brat as if they’re her own, and he goes. He goes to the manor for the first time since he left it, over a decade ago.

He almost thinks it’s his power at first, that something went terribly wrong because he hasn’t let out the Horror for a good long while and the flash of electric blue was unmistakable. But it’s not him, and the portal in the courtyard spits out a child and Ben’s hand shoots to his mouth and it’s shaking because that’s Five. That’s Five the day he left, all scrawny limbs and drama, in a too big suit.

He ushers Five inside, and gets down some bread to hand to his brother who already has the peanut butter and marshmallows well in hand. (Ben wonders, for a moment, why those ingredients are in the house to begin with. He’s positive Reginald doesn’t like marshmallows, after all. But he has more important things to worry about right now, so he lets that thought go.)

He listens as Five tells them they have eight days, and he believes. Four-Five-Six have always had more nebulous powers that the first three children combined. Strength, mind control, and knife throwing are surprisingly straight forward. Ghosts, dimension ripping tentacle monsters, and fucking with the fabric of space and time are… not so much.

Ben looks at his siblings, who have changed so much and yet so little, and decides that priorities are in order. Because as much as he cares for his siblings, and he does, they’re all grown ass adults. Despite what he says, Five looks very young and Ben has seen too many children with the same haunted eyes and sharp words.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this there’s an open window, and Pogo saying something about a missing box or a book or something, but admittedly Ben isn’t paying all that much attention. Not when he has bigger things to worry about

And Five has a choice between Vanya, who he loves but doesn’t want to drag into his general bullshit because she doesn’t have powers, and Ben who is a nurse and who seems most inclined to believe him. So after the Griddy’s incident, he goes back to the manor and Ben stitches him up with steady, experienced hands and asks Five what he can do to help

Five looks almost surprised. “You believe me?” He asks, suspicious lacing his voice. It makes something inside of Ben ache, but he blames it on the Horror.

“I’ll tell you what.” Ben says, looking Five in the eyes. “I’ll make you a deal - I’ll help you with anything apocalypse stopping, no questions asked.”

“But?” Five asks, but he sounds less suspicious and more comfortable with terms on the table. Their family isn’t used to unconditional support, after all.

“Come stay with me after we save the world.” Ben requests, and holds up a hand before Five can protest. “Yes, I know you aren’t a child. I know you can take care of yourself. But quite frankly, I’ve been missing my brother for almost seventeen years now, and I don’t have anyone to debate the finer points of mathematics with at three in the morning, do I?”

I don’t want to let you go now that I have you back. Ben doesn’t say, because he’s already pushing Five’s ability to deal with sentiment as it is.

Five’s eyes look suspiciously wet as he looks away, but he spits out a quick “Fine.” and they shake on it.

And so Ben ends up accompanying his brother to MeriTech to check out a serial number on the back of an eyeball. He places a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder, and calls in a favor with a doctor who he prevented from killing a patient who talks to a friend of a friend and they find out that the eyeball they have hasn’t been manufactured yet.

And hey, if Ben didn’t believe the whole time travel thing before he certainly does now, looking at an impossible eyeball in the hands of an impossible boy.

And Ben is a trustworthy ally, level-headed with enough deadpan humor to make even Five snort in laughter. Ben cherishes even aborted giggle close to his heart.

Five comes to him with a shy look and introduces him to a mannequin named Dolores. Ben thinks about the little girl with the spiral fracture telling him solemnly that she wasn’t scared but Mr. Hippo was, and he thinks about all the years that Five spent alone, and he gently takes Dolores’s hand in his and thanks her very much for looking after his brother all those years.

Five blinks in surprise, but it’s a good kind of surprise, and he’s notably warmer towards Ben after the interaction.

It reminds him, just a little bit, of Klaus before Reginald ruined him. The way he’d occasionally just talk to thin air or react to something that no one else could hear. It makes Ben oddly nostalgic, and probably means that he’s much more tolerant of Five’s interactions with Dolores than he should be.

Ben is with Five when Hazel and Cha-Cha storm the mansion. Luther and Allison and Diego hold their own with knives and kicks and the destruction of one chandelier. No one is taken, no one is kidnapped, because there wasn’t anyone just getting out of the bath with headphones in to catch unexpected.

Eudora Patch listens to Diego tell her that his mother is dead, and that his brothers are running off together to who knows where, and she doesn’t find a message on a van’s window and go to rescue a hostage. Detective Eudora Patch lives to fight another day.

Five scribbles probability maps on his walls and tells his audience of Luther and Ben that he plans to kill to save the world. Luther gets up in arms about it, but Ben just stares Five down and quietly tells him - “You promised.”

Because Five can’t stay with him if he’s in jail.

And Five looks away and says there is one way to get more information, and Ben can already tell he’s not going to like this.

They don’t have a suitcase to bargain with this time, so Five offers himself. He tells Hazel and Cha-Cha to meet him, because he’s decided to give himself up in return for them leaving his family alone. They get there, and they’re having a stand off, and Five demands that the assassin duo call the Handler.

Between one breath and the next, Five vanishes. Not like he’s supposed to vanish, in a flash of blue light. Just gone between one blink and the next.

Ben may or may not be responsible for the ensuing destruction of Hazel and Cha-Cha’s car and subsequently their briefcase which was located within said car. In his defense, it had been a while since he last drove out to the middle of nowhere and let the Horror go ham. And if, in this timeline, it’s Hazel who gets taken hostage because Ben is furious and he’s not losing his brother again, and Cha-Cha figures she’ll bust her partner out later but for not retreating is a wise move well

“Call your boss back.” Ben says, voice tight as he stares holes through a Hazel that Luther has helpfully tied up with some rope from the trunk of the car. “This is now a hostage exchange, you for my brother.”

“I’m just a grunt.” Hazel informs Ben, helplessly, “They’re not going to trade me for a legend like Five.”

Ben gestures for Luther to drive as he shoves Hazel into the backseat. As someone who has seen a man burst into an eldritch horror and destroy his only chance at going home, Hazel wisely complies. Ben smiles with all his teeth as he informs Hazel cheerfully that he’s going to tell Ben everything he knows about the Commission, the apocalypse, and his legend of a baby brother.

Later, in a family meeting with Hazel sitting tied up on the couch as they all loudly debate what they’re supposed to be doing now, Five shows up in a bright flash curled around a suitcase and scaring everyone

In another world Five brushes everyone off and proceeds to collapse.

In this one, Ben pats his brother down while ripping him a new one about telling him to full extent of plans for gods sakes and when his fingers come back wet with blood Ben frog marches his brother to the infirmary for Mom to stitch up with his assistance.

“We are a team.” Ben informs his idiot brother, “Yes I know we have to do everything to stop the world from ending, but it’s no use if you die along the way! I care about you, you idiot! So you’re going to sit here and heal while I go with Diego and Allison and deal with this Harold Jenkins motherfucker, okay?”

And Five grudgingly agrees when Ben pops a phone in his hand and teaches him how to facetime so that technically Five is with them the entire time and kept in the loop. Allison’s sacrifice of her phone for this purpose is duly noted and ignored, and Ben spares a split second to make a mental note to get Five his own phone at some point.

And when Luther finds out about everything, Ben quietly asks Five to pass the phone over and basically informs Luther that yes, Dad was a grade A prick but Luther is Number One. Dad might not care, but the dozens of people that Luther helped save during their stint as the Umbrella Academy? They sure as hell cared. And right now, Luther has a mission. Babysit both assassins sitting under their rooftop, because as proven by the break in Hazel is dangerous and where Hazel is surely Cha-Cha isn’t too far away.

That, at least, keeps Luther from going off and drowning his sorrows.

Since Diego isn’t wanted for murder in this timeline and Patch is alive, there’s no splitting up involved. Ben and Allison and Diego trick a cop, investigate a hospital, and find their way to Vanya’s cabin where secrets come to light.

Allison reveals that she rumored her sister into believing herself ordinary, and Ben can’t help it when he just loudly mutters “I hate this fucking family.” which breaks the tension and makes everyone stare at him.

Since he is not going to admit that he’s stress quoting a vine (god damn Dr. Hernandez got him hooked on them) he ends up just blurting out “I can’t believe Dad made Allison do that!” because really it’s important to establish that yes, Allison did the thing but also Allison was four it’s not like she knew what she was doing, “I’m glad he’s fucking dead, jesus. What kind of a prick does that to a couple of toddlers? Fuck him like, for real.”

and in the aftermath they’re all just sort of standing there staring at one another?? And then Diego is like “Uh. so. i have a police file on your boyfriend? And turns out his name is also the name of the dude Five says caused the apocalypse? Say hello Five” and Five just waves from his little screen

and Ben puts his hands on his hips and is just kind of like “Five if you repeat any of that language I will gut you like a fish. You’re too young for that.” and Five starts sputtering about being older than all of them and cursing and Vanya is giggling and Diego is grinning and mission accomplished! And then he turns to Vanya and is kind of like “Hey Vanya also if you need me to kick Leold Jenbody whomstever the fuck his name is’s ass, I do kind of have a big old tentacle monster at the ready. But of course, you get first dibs. Also like, have you seen his creepy attic shrine to the academy with all our eyes x’d out and our throats slashed? Because it’s like, honestly up there on the level of creepiness. Not quite as bad as that very explicit letter Allie got when we were fifteen, but not too far off either, you know?”

and look i’m not an expert but Ben just. De-escalates everything. He’s a tiny bit like a capybara who will also kick your ass if you really need him to.

And they confront Leonard-Harold and he tries to convince Vanya that her siblings are evil and he’s the ultimate good of whatever but it’s really hard when there’s Ben there muttering “God we all need so much therapy” to the side and “why is this family such a hazard to society. why do we always attract the weirdos.” and “this is what we get for the lack of a strong father figure in our lives I just know it” and other weird shit like that

anyway Vanya realizes that Leonard has only ever been using her for her powers and was manipulating her from the start, especially when he pulls out his knowledge of her powers as his little trump card as if they didn’t all just have a weird heart to heart about Allison sort of erasing Vanya’s knowledge of them as toddlers

“So do we just? Lock Leonard up until April 1st passes?” Ben asks Five and he feels a little like he’s cupping a magic 8 ball instead of a phone but whatever. But it’s Diego who just is kind of like “Oh hey I got this, this fucker has skipped out on so much probation and done a runner and shit and I can totally just call Patch to come out here and lock him up. Can’t cause the apocalypse from jail now, can you?”

And okay when Patch arrives to them all cornering Leonard in this cabin and also she sent some people to his house and there is a Whole Ass Dead Body up in there alongside this creepy serial killer shrine and oh yes Harold Jenkins is going away.

After that it almost seems a little anticlimactic to just climb in the car and go home? But I mean. That’s what they do. They argue half heartedly about music choice in the car and arrive home to find out that Five has untied Hazel and they’re both chilling at the bar drinking and honestly no one is sure where the little umbrellas materialized from because surely Reginald wouldn’t allow such a thing in his house, right? Luther is just kind of shrugging in the background (maybe a little tipsy) because you can’t expect him to know what’s going on in Five’s head

on the bright side Hazel seems pretty chill and has decided he is not going to try and kill any of them anymore because what he really desires is to run away with the nice donut shop lady. No, no one knows how to respond to this except perhaps Five who is cheerfully wishing Hazel luck.

and considering that Luther has the whole general time they dealt with Leonard and the car ride back to come to terms with Vanya’s powers and the fact that Dad sucks and there’s also the matter that in this au Vanya did not slit the throat of his most favorite siblings so i mean. He’s okay with this. He is so beyond caring about the shit this family gets up to anymore. He’s going to need so much therapy when this is all over.

Ben just sort of looks at this motley crew and everyone just looks fucking exhausted and he’s just kind of like. “Okay! Well. I for one did not get that much time off work for all of this but seems like y’all could use a vacation. My apartment is sort of shitty but i have a fuckload of extra blankets because sometimes I stress quilt, and no, no one is allowed to judge me for that fact, and my sofa is pretty great so I mean. You guys can come meet my cats?”

and that’s how everyone piles up into the car and goes to Ben’s place and meet his cats while buying a metric fuck ton of ice cream (Allison insists because even if Leonard ended up a creep, Vanya liked him at first and so it’s break up time) and no one can agree on a movie to watch and Diego is complaining because Ben put Dolores in the best spot while Five argues it’s because she deserves it

and look. Ben has been quiet and kept his head down and lived his life for a very long time. But looking at his siblings, at Luther ducking his head because he burned the popcorn and Allison gesturing dramatically with a bottle of nail polish as she does Vanya’s fingers and Diego teasing a scowling Five who both cats are fighting over his lapspace

and Ben can’t help but think that if Klaus were here (and his brother’s power was seeing the dead, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility) he would be proud of how far they’d come.

Ben certainly was.

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🎃 Frightful October Act IX, #27 ~ Lore (Slenderman)

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Supernatural, Romance

Word Count: 1,610

Pairing: Reader x Slenderman

World: Legends & Creepypastas

Author’s Note: Yes, I went there.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

You pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned the shelf, index finger brushing the spines of the books. It was the weekend, so you were happy to spend your day at the local bookstore, browsing books on unsolved mysteries and strange creatures. Growing up, you had been obsessed with urban legends, always with your nose in a book about them. The other kids always teased you and treated you like you were a freak. Because of this, your parents tried to get you out of such things, but your interest never wavered.

There were a couple of kids that were interested, though not to the extreme degree that you were. While you were genuinely interested in their stories, the other kids disrespected them and used them for cheap scares. Your absolute favorite legend was that of Slenderman.

“Excuse me.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at the employee. Her name, you knew, was Kate and she was only a few years older than yourself. “Yes?”

She smiled kindly at you. “Sorry, but we’re closing early for Halloween. If you would, please bring your items to the counter.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” you clutched the thick, hardcover volume to your chest as you followed her to the register.

Kate hummed when she saw the cover. “‘The Legend of Slenderman’, huh? I didn’t think anyone was still into that story. I guess it makes sense that it would be brought back around Halloween,” she handed you the change and the book in a plastic bag. “Have a happy Halloween!”

You nodded, mumbling a ‘thank you’ before leaving the store. The cool October air nipped as your exposed skin as you walked down the sidewalk. Kids were rushing home from school to get into their costumes for trick-or-treating. You broke away from the sidewalk, veering onto the dirt path that led to the park on the right. Younger kids were running around, screaming and laughing as they played.

You smiled at their giggles. Kids were so innocent and precious, without prejudice or hatred.

You continued on past the past, following the winding path into the woods. Ever since you were small, the woods had always been your safe place because it was peaceful and quiet. No one bothered you there.

Most of the trees were bare, leaves scattered around them like drops of blood, and the bare branches jolted in the wind, casting shadows on the ground like bony fingers. These woods were technically off-limits to the public ever since a couple of kids wandered in a few years back and then vanished. Most people believed that they had been taken by old Mr. Jones, who had conveniently disappeared the next day. He was believed to be behind it because several witnesses came forward saying that he had argued with the two boys the day they went missing.

The more religious nuts in town were positive that they had been taken by a demon that lived within the woods. They even started a petition to have the woods cut down and, when that failed, one of them set fire to it. It raged for three days straight and burned down dozens of trees in the process. Despite this, it didn’t have much of an impact on the vast wooded area. You were grateful for this. You could remember when you first heard the news that the forest was on fire – you spent the three days in your room, staring out the blaze in the distance with tears in your eyes.

You walked deep into the woods, far away from the barking dogs, the laughing kids, and the sound of passing cars. It was completely silent there. Scanning the area, you chose one of the trees that still had a few leaves clinging on for dear life, settling beneath it. The bark dug into your back, but you didn’t mind. Pulling the thick volume from the bag, you set it on your thighs before folding the plastic in your back pocket so it wouldn’t be carried away by the wind.

On the inside cover was an illustration of Slenderman. His long limbs, crisp black and white suit and his featureless face… how much of it was real? As a child, when someone asked if you believed in the existence of Slenderman, you would have answered ‘yes’ without any hesitation, but after years of being made fun of for your belief and insisting that it was ‘just a story’, you were beginning to question yourself.

‘I guess I’m no different from those that think the woods are inhabited by demons… Maybe mom is right, I need to grow up.’

Your fingers brushed over the illustration, index finger stopping on heart – or at least where it would be if he had a heart. With a sigh, your head fell back against the tree, your eyes sliding closed.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

Snap

Your eyes snapped open and you winced at the stiffness in your neck and back. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding you, lit up only by a full moon half-covered by dark clouds. ‘Shoot, I must have fallen asleep,’ you pulled out your phone to check the time, but it was completely dead, despite only having been at fifty percent when you left the bookstore.

You shook your legs to wake them up, feeling the pinpricks under your skin. Pulling yourself to your feet, you suddenly realized that the book was gone. Eyes squinting in the darkness, your feet slid across the ground but the book was nowhere to be found. Had someone come by and stolen it while you slept?

“Looking for this?” The voice was deep and husky, sending a shiver down your spin. Alarms were ringing in your head as you slowly turned around, heart pounding wildly in your chest. Before you stood Slenderman, the real Slenderman.

He stood straight up at eight-feet-tall, his long limbs hanging at his sides. A crisp black and white suit hugged his body and his skin was a crisp white like a sheet of printer paper. Long black tentacle-like appendages protruded from his back, eight in total, floating around his body protectively. The second tentacle on the right was wrapped tightly around your missing book.

‘I… should be afraid, right? Why am I not afraid?’ you took a step forward, releasing a shaky breath. “You… You’re real…”

“Were you doubting me… Y/N?”

You sucked in a breath hearing your name like silk. You wanted to deny doubting him, but you knew it would be a lie if you did. You lowered your head, a feeling of guilt settling in your stomach.

He approached you slowly, sticks snapping under his feet. The tentacle shifted, setting the book in the palm of his right hand. His free hand reached up to grip your chin, forcing your face up. His fingers felt like ice against your skin. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you doubt me now?”

“No,” you breathed out softly, taking a step toward him. His tentacles whipped toward your body, forming a wall around your back, like a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the world.

He regarded you curiously, thumb resting against your bottom lip which trembled under his touch. “How curious. There isn’t an ounce of fear within you.”

“I never believed the stories they told about you,” you spoke softly. “The stories of you being a monster, the stories of you stalking children, murdering them, eating them. I never believed a word of it.”

“And what makes you so sure that the stories are false?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know,” you confessed with a furrowed brow. “I’ve just always felt that way deep down. I never viewed you as the monster that others did. Even as a child, I was fascinated by you. I… I’ve always wanted to meet you, to talk to you and get to know you, the real you and…” you trailed off, your cheeks heating up as you looked away from him. ‘He must think I’m so lame…’

He hummed, bringing his featureless face to your ear. “Would you like to get to know me? No through the pages of some made-up book,” he dropped the thick volume and it hit the ground, turning to dust. “Answer me, Y/N. Will you pledge your undying loyalty to me?” His long, bony fingers rested over your heart, enjoying the heavy thumps against his skin. It had been so very long since he had last felt a human heart.

So many centuries since he had last touched human flesh. He had forgotten how warm humans are. He craved that warmth more than anything, but he wouldn’t forcefully take that from you – you had to willingly give yourself to him or it would be meaningless.

You swallowed down your nerves and stepped closer until your body was flush against his own, your arms wrapping around his slim waist. Your head rested just below his breast. “You’ve always had my loyalty… and my heart. I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m yours to do with as you please… Slenderman.”

His arms wrapped tight around your body, soaking up the warmth that you offered him. He easily lifted you off the ground so he could rest his face in the crook of your neck. You felt a sharp sting, like you had just been jabbed in the neck by a needle, and your mind started to grow foggy. “We are bonded for life, Y/N.”

You smiled brightly, shifting your arms around his neck as his cold body melded against your own.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

#frightful october #halloween #creepypasta #slenderman #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #reader insert #reader-insert #reader #one shot #supernatural #romance #frightful october 19

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hamliet · 5 years

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The Faces Under Bai WuXiang’s Mask

Or, dissecting Bai WuXiang. I’m not going to get into whose face is actually under BWX’s mask (there aren’t spoilers in this meta), or into Lang Ying, but I instead want to talk about Bai WuXiang’s foiling with primarily Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, but also a bit of He Xuan and Qi Rong (fitting as BWX and the latter three are the Four Great Calamities).

Anyways. Mount TongLu.

The funny thing about Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s horror over Hua Cheng’s love for Xie Lian is that they think he’s a demon stalking Xie Lian with the intent of harming him.

Feng Xin was practically getting chills looking through those murals, “My fucking god… who the hell is he? He’s been watching you since eight hundred years ago?! And he is still, even now? What the fuck! This is terrifying! Is he bewitched? What the hell does he want? Normal worshippers won’t even do this much, just what the hell does he want??”

And Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian and lived for him for 800 years. Yet, while there is a demon stalking Xie Lian for 800 years, it is not Hua Cheng but Bai WuXiang.

Bai WuXiang’s obsession with Xie Lian seems to be that he wants Xie Lian to become exactly like him, as a sort of forced empathy (I’m sensing a pattern among MXTX villains: see here for He Xuan and here for MDZS’s Xue Yang). I’m curious to see where this develops. Bai WuXiang seems to recognize Xie Lian’s terror and understand it, even, and he wants to see it drive Xie Lian into the same kind of crying/laughing despair that governs him.

White No-Face lifted his face to look at his eyes, and he said warmly, “Your highness, I think, you might have misunderstood. There certainly will be a Supreme who will emerge from this kiln, but, it won’t be me. It would be you.” ...

“Do you remember this cry-smiling mask?” White No-Face asked, “It suits you.” ...

Then, without giving him a chance to protest, that tragically pale cry-smiling mask melted with the infinite darkness as it was heavily pressed onto Xie Lian’s face.

This is, of course, a crucial difference when compared with how Hua Cheng sees Xie Lian. He never forces Xie Lian to do anything, and accompanies him even when he doesn’t want Xie Lian to make a particular choice. In other words, Hua Cheng gets real empathy and what it’s like, that it doesn’t mean becoming exactly like someone or agreeing all the time, but walking with them.

Xie Lian softly sighed a breath of relief and forced a smile, “Nothing, it’s just, in these past years, how I passed my earlier days wasn’t the prettiest sight, it was all muddled and very much a failure. I just thought if you had witnessed it it wouldn’t be good.”

Hua Cheng laughed, “How could that be?”

Xie Lian however, didn’t laugh at all, “It’s not a joke, it really was quite the failure.”

Hearing this, Hua Cheng withdrew his smile and turned solemn, “That’s okay too. Didn’t your highness already say it yourself?”

“Me?” Xie Lian was confused, “What did I say?”

Hua Cheng recited languidly, “To me, the one standing in infinite glory is you, the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, and not the state of you.”

Bai WuXiang doesn’t understand this perspective at all. He tells Xie Lian, regarding Hua Cheng:

“it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t come in. Otherwise, even if he doesn’t think so now, later when he sees the state of you, who knows if he’ll still want to be with you.”

He’s preying on Xie Lian’s worst insecurities, the ones he mentioned earlier: that he’s a failure, that he’s trash. I’m pretty sure this is actually what Bai WuXiang thinks of himself: that he’s a failure, and no one wants to be with him (well, I mean, look at you BWX...)

We see these fears of being inherently bad in Hua Cheng as a little boy. Everyone seems to believe this about him, especially when the priest tells his fortune:

The Head Priest wiped his sweat and suddenly backed a mile away, “Your highness, you really picked up something you shouldn’t have up the mountain! That small child is toxic! His sign is borne of the most ominous star, the Star of Solitude*, destined to bring misfortune and destruction, the kind that evil loves the most. Whoever touches him will have misfortune befall upon them, whoever gets close will lose their lives!”

... Seeing that everyone was avoiding him like he was a poisonous snake, that child was shocked and started thrashing even harder, biting and screaming, “I’m not! I’M NOT!! I’M NOT!!!!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped him around the waist, encircling his small form. A voice came from above his head, “You’re not. I know you’re not. Don’t cry, now. I know you’re not.”

That young child pressed his lips closed tightly, grabbing on to that pair of snow-white sleeves around his waist with a death grip, forced himself to hold back for a long time but in the end he still couldn’t. A stream of tears suddenly rolled down from that round, black eye, and he burst out crying.

Xie Lian embraced him from behind and reiterated firmly, “It not you. It’s not your fault.”

This scene was also paralleled recently in the confession scene in 177, where Xie Lian hugs Hua Cheng from behind to confirm he loves him. But what Hua Cheng fears is being alone because he brings misfortune to the people he loves. He doesn’t want to be alone. Connection, as we’ll see, is vitally important to staying alive and to staying connected to humanity--whether mortal, god, or demon--in TGCF. He even asks Xie Lian in the confession scene not to tell him, because he’s so afraid of being rejected, yet Xie Lian embraces him instead.

i’m not in pain at all

When Hua Cheng is wondering what to live for, thinking he has nothing, Xie Lian tells him to live for him until he finds another reason to live for himself. This scene again emphasizes the importance of connection and the importance of empathy in connection as well, that a god would speak to a lone, desperate mortal worshipper. Live for their connection. The problem is that Hua Cheng needs to extend some of that love to himself too (like, he’s still drawing himself as exceedingly ugly in his art), but I think that comes through allowing himself to be loved by Xie Lian. So he’s on that path.

There’s another aspect to the BWX and Hua Cheng foiling that makes me slightly uncomfortable to discuss, but it’s there so let’s discuss it. Hua Cheng’s murals that so panicked Mu Qing and Feng Xin were pretty obviously, er, erotic (the ultimate self-insert real person fanartist; Hua Cheng and Dante could get along). Bai WuXiang is definitely giving off some... creeper vibes.

The next second, his hair was grabbed, forcibly yanked back then bashed into the ground!

His ears were ringing, his nose and mouth were filled with the astringence of blood, and his head concussed.

It was a while later before Xie Lian felt a hand pull his head out from the shattered ground, and a voice came from above, “So sad, so pitiful.”

Xie Lian choked out a mouthful of blood. White No-Face said, “Every time I meet your highness, you always look like this. Makes one ache. Makes one excited.”

It could just be the translation, but given BWX’s foiling with Hua Cheng, the scene two chapters earlier where Mu Qing and Fen Xin clearly think Hua Cheng is going to harm Xie Lian sexually and Hua Cheng assures him he has no such intentions (not that Xie Lian thought he would), plus what we know of Xie Lian’s utter commitment to abstinence does make me think that Bai WuXiang knows what he’s doing and is doing it to distress Xie Lian. I don’t think MXTX will take it very far (ie I don’t think anything will actually happen in a literal sense), thankfully, but I do think something metaphorically along those lines (ie something humiliating that denies Xie Lian humanity in a sense other than that one, BUT metaphorical is not the same thing) might have happened in the past.

There’s also the fact that Bai WuXiang slamming Xie Lian’s face into the ground and demanding he be like him at the ending of book 3, right before we dive into the past, is a reversal of the scene at the ending of book 1 right before we dive into the past, where Xie Lian slams Qi Rong’s face into the ground because he can’t get him to stop possessing an innocent father. Additionally, in this scene Qi Rong tells Xie Lian something similar to what BWX tells Xie Lian, except Xie Lian is the one in power then:

Xie Lian’s breathing was becoming more laboured, his head dizzy, his body shaking, his hands itching to crush Qi Rong’s skull, but he couldn’t do it. Qi Rong spread his hands, “Hahahaha cousin crown prince, what a failure, what an absolute failure!”

Xie Lian picked him off the ground, raised his fists and rained punch after punch on Qi Rong’s face, yelling with each punch, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

Yet, the more enraged he got, the happier Qi Rong became. To be able to drag the both of them to the same hell, Qi Rong was filled with rapture, his eyes shone brightly, “See! There’s your true face! Cousin crown prince, who knows you better than me in this world? You might look like a pathetic, drowned dog that anyone can trample now, but I know. You’re still proud on the inside; you couldn’t stand anyone calling you a failure! You must hate me for calling you a failure! Have I stabbed your heart enough to bleed? Hurry! Come! Or are you gonna tell me loudly that this body is innocent, so you won’t kill me in order to spare him? Come! Show me what you’ll do!”

It’s the same sort of temptation, except BWX has the spiritual power on his side whereas Qi Rong didn’t. Kill me, and become like me. If Xie Lian doesn’t give up, if he stands by his morals even though they’re being challenged because honestly his morals are kind of all he has at certain moments, then they themselves will be condemned, as they already know they are. But they want someone to empathize with them, to understand them. Qi Rong spent his childhood looking up to Xie Lian, wanting to be like him, and now he wants Xie Lian to be like him. He’s still a child, despite being an 800-year-old demon. I have hope Qi Rong will be able to grow a bit through being a parental figure for GuZi, I don’t really for BWX because I find him a terrifying baddie whom I love and despise at the same time.

What sets Xie Lian apart though, the whole reason Qi Rong loved him so much in the first place, the reason Hua Cheng fell in love with him, the reason He Xuan grew close with Shi Qing Xuan, is because Xie Lian can empathize. He has a sense of wonder about the world, and he doesn’t see himself as better than anyone. He’s naive and yes, proud in some ways, but when his priests tried to kick out a child because the child had a bad fortune, he protected that child. He dove off the ceremonial cart to save a falling child. He knows he failed epically to save Xian Le from falling, to save innocents from dying, but not for lack of trying.

He Xuan also tried to force Shi Qing Xuan and Shi Wu Du to understand his pain in losing all his loved ones. It backfired, and now He Xuan has lost the one person he still had. (I don’t think SQX is dead, but I doubt he is in a good state.) The meta I referenced earlier is entirely about this, and as @beneaththebrim wrote here, the whole Black Water arc “is a tragic mirror of the main plot.”

The faces under Bai WuXiang’s mask could easily be any of these characters, but they aren’t because they’re able to connect currently. Qi Rong has a genuine connection to Xie Lian, as twisted and torn as it is, and is developing one with GuZi. He Xuan is likely finding out that revenge on Shi Wu Du didn’t bring him the peace he wants, didn’t bring his loved ones back, and irreparably hurt the one person who loved him (Shi Qing Xuan). Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, of course, love each other, and through each others’ love, are hopefully starting, ever so slowly, to learn to love and value themselves too (Hua Cheng you don’t value yourself enough).

Bai WuXiang is likely terrified of facing the reality that he is alone (and if he doesn’t have the human face disease or some remnant thereof since he’s the mastermind behind it and it’s symbolic of society corrupting & also of loneliness, I’ll be shocked). So no matter how many faces he has in actuality, it’s really only his face under that mask, and that’s what he’s terrified of.

#tgcf meta #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #heaven official's blessing meta #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #bai wuxiang #qi rong #he xuan #beefleaf

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omenapologist-moved · 4 years

Text

I was going to make a post apologizing for venting so much, but honestly I am not sorry and I am not sorry for oversharing, either, and I shouldn’t be and I shouldn’t have to be sorry that I am hurting and using one of the few outlets I have at the moment to talk about my pain.

I always feel like I have to prove myself and I have to do this and that to prove I’m not a burden, but that’s... Bullshit. I’m a living, breathing person, am I not? Is that not enough? It should be.

It was fucked up what these people did to me and I will say that and I will not be silent about it.

It is fucked up that someone I got into online discourse with over kinning a fictional fucking character wound up getting in contact with ex-roommates of mine, who stole my medical documents and shared those documents with this person I got into discourse with. It’s fucked up that they then proceeded to contact a man that emotionally, sexually, and financially abused me throughout the entire spans of our relationship, and then decided that because they didn’t like me that he never abused me and that I, in fact, abused him, despite the fact that at this point he’s a known predator and I am not the first of his victims, nor his only victim, and I unfortunately probably will not be his last victim either. It’s fucked up that then, they decided to contact my abusive father, who I escaped from in 2018 and have very purposefully not contacted since, not told him where I live, etc, and tried to doxx me in order to tell my abusive father my home address. It’s fucked up that they were trying to doxx me through pictures and videos I was uploading on my private Facebook account, which they accessed because one of the people I thought was my friend was actually not my friend at all and was happily, voluntarily sharing this information with all of them.

It’s fucked up that this same ex-friend of mine, who I have not spoken with in well over a year now, continues to try and harass me, to engage with me. It is fucked up and wrong that he has contacted my current friends, tried to slander my name, and TRIED TO PREVENT ME FROM GETTING INTO SAFE HOUSING because of this insane, incomprehensible grudge he has against me. It is fucked up that his partner literally gaslit me not only about a sexual assault I experienced, but about my overall behavior towards my then-roommates. It is fucked up that all of these people had a group chat dedicated to the organized harassment of my person, pretending that it was not a genuine hate group and was instead some sort of “support group” for people I had “abused.”

The worst thing I ever did to this ex-friend and his partner was tell them their relationship was unhealthy, because they were constantly, constantly with one another, and massively emotionally co-dependent despite having only been dating for a month, and that I had been down that road and that it was not a good road to go down and that I was concerned. That is the worst thing I ever did to this person, and somehow they twisted that and said I was trying to break them up in order to get with this friend, despite the fact that I was newly single after having been literally left for dead by my prior boyfriend (the same one that constantly abused and raped me.) and really didn’t have much of an interest in immediately entering another relationship. Both this friend and his partner would try to talk me into entering a poly triad with the two of them, an offer I nearly took them up on because I was hurt, and lonely. I am glad I did not. But they gaslit me about that, too.

It was fucked up how this person I had engaged in stupid, STUPID discourse with did all of that and interacted with all of these people who had seriously hurt me in real life, not online and then offered a non-apology to make themselves look like the better, bigger person.

It was fucked up how I was going to be on the fucking streets and so someone I thought I could trust offered to take me in while quoting a literal cult from a movie I enjoyed, and I accepted. It was fucked up how I moved across the country in with these two people I had never met before and scarcely spoken with, and how I never spoke to anyone aside from them for eight whole months, the final 3 of which I spent in complete isolation not only due to the quarantine but due to my overall situation. It was fucked up that at first they both bombed me with love and adoration and acceptance, preaching that we would be a family, and it would just be us, and any implication or mention of having anyone else join us was shot down or brushed away. Just the three of us. And they lovebombed me and bought me whatever I wanted and sang my praises, and behind my back I would learn both of them were lusting after me and in all likelihood the entire point of bringing me to Arizona was not to save my life, as convenient of a guise as that was, rather it was to add me to their harem. The love bombing, the coming onto me while intoxicated. The decision that maybe this wasn’t a good idea only after I would not accept their advances.

It was fucked up that I wasn’t informed the apartment was overrun with cockroaches and mold and probably bedbugs until after I had moved there and found out the hard way.

It was fucked up that I thought I had known someone only to discover they were a legitimate predator. It was fucked up to have that happen twice. It was fucked up to spend 3 months genuinely fearing for my life on a daily basis, only to be told that was an invalid fear because I had homicidal ideation (which they encouraged and sexualized despite me expressing that I did not like this part of me and that I wanted it to stop and that it was deeply viscerally upsetting me and made me feel sick and that I had constant nightmares about it) and how I’m the real predator, how they should be afraid of me, if anyone is to be afraid in this circumstance.

It was fucked up that so much of my progress with regards to my self esteem, self image, gender presentation was torn down by this person. It was fucked up to be slut-shamed by my own boyfriend, to practically be told that because I wore ripped up jeans without underwear I was a slut who was asking to be raped. It was fucked up to be told the way I dressed triggered him and that I needed to stop expressing myself because if a guy hit on me in public he would be triggered and jealous and that’s somehow my fault and my problem to solve and not his problem to solve in therapy. It was fucked up how I was roped into assisting him in stalking a 19 year old when he was 23, and how he spent nearly every waking hour talking about this boy he became genuinely obsessed with. It was fucked up that I had to watch this obsession get worse and worse and I feared for my own life because of it and I feared for and still fear for that boy’s life because of it and somehow that makes me the creepy bad one.

It was fucked up that he scattered bird seed for some reason on the living room floor and my cat started eating it and then vomiting up white foam and I was worried that because of his constant fucking carelessness for everyone and everything around him but himself I would have to let my pet die in my arms and watch her die in my arms because of his negligence and there was nothing I could do because at the time I couldn’t afford a vet.

It was fucked up that one day I came home to the apartment covered in blood and my immediate worry was that he had kidnapped and/or hurt this boy. It was fucked up that circumstances made me think that could be a possibility to begin with.

It was fucked up that the two of them can just go on with their lives, they can go by different names and pretend to be someone else and they’re virtually fucking fine, but I can’t and won’t, and I have even more trauma and baggage now meanwhile they’re off scott-free. It is fucked up that my praises were sung up until I stopped accepting their bad behavior and condoning it and then suddenly I was the devil itself, that we went from “I hardly remember life before you came here, you make this house feel like a home, you’re family to me, my life is so much better because of you” to just... tearing me down and threatening my life, actively and purposefully and without regret or remorse and constantly demonizing me.

It was ALL fucked up and wrong and absolutely fucking none of this needed to or had to happen, and it is fucked up that all of them are just happily getting away with it and are able to so easily demonize and blame me despite fucking abusing and tormenting me for so, so long because I dared to get angry, I dared to stop taking the bullshit, I dared to be mentally ill and to trust them with my thoughts only to have them warped and perverted and to be groomed and to be wound up like a fucking toy, wind me up and watch me go.

It was all fucked up.

#\\\^◊^///#VVV

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cheswirls · 5 years

Text

it’s your extension (let me extend) 5/6

ace runs.

he runs as fast as he can. overhead, the comet soars, moving a million miles faster than he is.

he meets kidd at the factory. the powerplant. the entire village’s electrical grid. comes to a stop, slamming into the chainlink, still panting, when he rolls up on his motorbike.

“he says sorry about your bike,” ace calls. kidd cuts the engine.

“who says?”

“i do!” ace corrects.

kidd throws his duffel to the ground, takes out a pair of heavy-duty pliers. “you’re sure about this, ace?” he questions, one last time, a hard glint in his eyes. “that thing’s really coming down?” he points to the comet with the tool.

ace nods fervently. “saw it myself,” he swears.

kidd cackles. “you did, huh? alright, fine.” he steps forward, positions the pliers around the chain lock. “get ready!” he clips it and it falls to the ground, slack. “this means we’re criminals now!”

“you still have to convince your dad!” kidd calls back, loud over the bike’s engine. ace tightens his grip, nodding.

“yeah, i know!” he cocks his head back. “think that thing’s really gonna blow?”

“i sure hope so!” kidd yells. right as he finishes, an explosion echoes from behind them. ace screams, lunges forward, and kidd laughs, steadying his trembling hands on the handles of the motorbike. “whaddya know! dad taught me well, huh!”

“you’re crazy!” ace screams.

“says the guy who came up with this scheme!” kidd screams back.

he skids to a stop when they reach stairs, not risking going down them. ace jumps off, but kidd waits an extra second, caught with the bike’s momentum. ace stumbles on the stairs, glances back. “kidd!” he calls in panic, but kidd’s rolling to a stand too, the bike upturned behind him.

“good, good!” he gasps, grabbing ace’s arm to pull him forward. “c’mon! let’s go, let’s go!”

the power cuts out. all the bombs he and kidd had set at the plant had blown, shot the circuits to bits. ace takes a deep breath as they round the corner into the festival square, booths no longer lit. no comet. not yet. they wouldn’t go for it. he had to settle for something more realistic.

“forest fire!” kidd calls, just as the emergency sirens begin ringing out. “there’s a fire, we have to evacuate! hurry!”

“this is fuusha city council. due to the explosive at the power plant, there’s been a warning of forest fires and other explosions. if you live in the following districts, please evacuate immediately to fuusha high school.”

“fire!” ace calls, sprinting after kidd. “please evacuate! there’s a fire coming!”

he can see it’s not working. the people look confused, and the sirens have them on edge, but they’re not moving. lami’s voice rings out, perfect calm even though she must be terrified. she reminds him so much of-

ace stops dead in his tracks.

kidd whips around. “this isn’t working. we really do need city council to-” his face screws up. “ace, what’s wrong?”

ace doesn’t cry. he doesn’t cry unless things are very emotional, like when dragon left, or when he met sabo for the first time, tonight. he’s not the crier. he doesn’t cry.

he’s crying.

“his name!” he blabs, frantic. “i can’t remember his name!”

kidd’s expression darkens. “are you fucking kidding me!” he yells. his hands wrap around ace’s shoulders. “ace! forget about that! we have bigger problems here, right?!��

ace’s body shakes with effort as he works to keep his sobs contained. “but-! but-” he shakes his head. then he pushes kidd’s hands off, roughly. he slaps his own face hard, twice, thrice. “sorry!” he shouts. “i’ll go, i’m going!” he starts running. kidd takes off in the opposite direction. “i’ll make it!” he promises. “i promise!”

“you better!” kidd calls.

“hey! what do you think you’re doing in the broadcast room?”

lami cuts off with a scream, panicking. “i- uh- i-” three teachers storm in. one councilman grabs her wrist. another turns the broadcast off.

“seriously, trafalgar,” one of the teachers huffs, marching her down the hall. “what were you thinking? do you have any idea of the consequences-”

lami walks between them, tears streaming down her face, audibly crying. “s-sorry,” she says, but it’s not to them. “sorry, ace,” she chokes. “i’m sorry!”

kidd glances up and his heart stops. “it’s really splitting,” he mutters. and not just in half. there were dozens of little comets, meteorites, lighting up the sky now.

“kidd!”

he comes to a full stop, wincing. he cocks his head over, and his dad is coming to meet him down a set of stairs. a couple of his workers are behind him.

“sorry, ace,” he mutters. “this is it for me.”

the broadcast cuts out and ace curses. “no! shit! lami!” he cries. please be okay!

he tears down the street, taking the higher ground, knowing the path to the council building by heart, whether he wanted to or not. he passes by a railing, where the ground jutts, and glances up. the comet! how much ti-

no!

he looks up to a meteor shower. they were almost out of time.

he speeds up, but his foot catches on the uneven ground, and he trips, tumbles. he lands on the ground hard, air knocked from him, and then rolls downhill, until he hits another jutt, flips, crashes to the ground.

he lies there, trying to remember to breathe again. his head spins. his hands are in front of him.

he curls into himself. he was too late anyway, right? it wouldn’t work, right? he couldn’t outspeed a bunch of falling rocks. the plan didn’t work none of it worked-

“so we don’t forget our names when we wake up.”

ace breathes out, slow. he uncups his hand. that was right. his name was right-

he stares.

his name isn’t written on ace’s hand.

his lips tremble. “idiot!” he gasps.

i love you is written in marker.

ace fists his hand, sobs into the gravel. “how am i supposed to remember your name with this!” he cries out, impossibly loud. he lies there for another moment, another, another.

then he pushes himself to his knees, lips stretched into a smile. he wails, laughs, comes to a stand.

“okay!” he calls out, starting to run again.

“fine!”

“i’ll do it!”

“i’m going to LIVE!”

“dad!” ace calls, slamming dragon’s door open. luffy perks up from the couch, clambering to his feet. garp looks over as well.

from behind his desk, dragon stands. “ace!” he growls. “listen, i don’t have time for-”

ace sets his face, stalks closer, and dragon shuts up.

“no. you are going to listen to me,” ace shouts. “for once in your goddamn life! because i’m not dying again!”

the meteor still crashes.

the nucleus of the comet hits right behind ace’s house, near the torii gate that leads further into the side of the mountain.

the ground breaks. wood from whole tree trunks flies everywhere. the lake water evaporates into steam, and then crumbles under the weight of multiple little meteors that had broken off of the nucleus.

sabo wakes up.

sabo wakes up on top of a mountain.

he sits up. the sun is shining behind him. the water from the twin lakes down far, far below glitters.

he looks down at his palm, where a streak of ink was left. he squints.

“where am i?” he mumbles.

five years later

“what’s with the suit? party’s not til tonight.”

sabo pauses right inside the doorway, hand still holding it half closed. he deadpans, resists the reply he wants to say. “i’m not wearing this to the party,” he says instead, finally shutting the front door. shanks’ expression still doesn’t change, seeking an answer, and after shuffling off his shoes sabo sighs and supplies him with one. “i had a job interview today.”

“oh?” shanks steps aside to allow sabo access to the rest of the apartment, but then immediately follows at his heels. “how’d that go?”

sabo stops, resisting the urge to fidget, and shanks barely avoids crashing into him. they stand still in the middle of the hall for a couple moments.

“newspaper market is more competitive than i thought,” he finally mutters.

shanks hunkers down, shoulders shaking in an attempt to contain his laughter. “and-” he pauses as he catches sabo’s eye, the blond turning his head to gaze down at his former guardian. “koala has-”

“two offers,” sabo grunts. he rolls his eyes. “just say she’s better than me. i know you want to.” he pauses again at the entrance to the kitchen, gaze falling to the empty table. “makino’s not here?”

“ah, no. she’s meeting us there.” shanks passes him by, finally, patting him on the shoulder as he went. “i actually have a couple things to do before tonight, so i’m heading out. i’ll call you on my way back, grab lunch. be ready by six, okay? party’s at seven.”

“right.” sabo’s only half listening at this point, tugging his bedroom door open.

well. his former-

it’s been a while. since he graduated high school and moved out. since he’s been back here.

sabo lets the door slide shut behind him. the curtains are open; his bed is made -makino, probably.

he moves over to the bookshelf and his fingers run over the spines of twenty marked notebooks, holding all his daily logs from his time spent with makino and shanks.

they pause at number three, and he pulls it out before he can think much of it, flipping through to the back, where he finds the pages more crumpled, like he’d been looking for something and grew frustrated when he couldn’t find it.

sabo reads a page out of interest and pauses when he gets to a familiar name.

he’s never remembered why he woke up on the side of that mountain, the sight of fuusha, still in ruins, far below. it still puzzles him sometimes, when he takes a moment to recall. he’d been with koala and robin, but they had gone back to goa before him. he doesn’t know the reason. did they fight? did they have to be back earlier than he did?

he’d been on notebook nine at that point, but he hadn’t had it with him, so nothing of his little country travel got logged.

he does remember being obsessed with fuusha, at one point.

he puts the notebook back and slides open a desk drawer, frown forming on his face as he catches sight of all the articles still stashed there.

eight years ago. when the comet crashed. he can remember, faintly, watching it from the roof of the apartment building. seeing it split. watching in fascination as hundreds of little meteors grew closer and closer to the surface.

and then. crashed.

it was on the news for days. fuusha, left decimated. he remembers watching everything, saving every scrap of information, evident by all the papers in the desk drawer. something about it had him fascinated.

he couldn’t, for the life of him, recall what.

the comet crashed on the south side of the lake fuusha had formed around. the shockwaves carried the destruction all the way across, rumbling the ground even at the evacuation point.

thankfully, the town had been performing an emergency drill at the time. everyone had been moved out to the high school, out of reach of the comet’s impact.

they’d had to relocate, their home left in ruins, but at least they were all alive.

that had been it. miran comet had come, left as half its size, and formed a newer, smaller crater in the ruins of an old mountain village.

sabo, for the life of him, couldn’t figure why he was so interested.

he shuts the desk drawer.

shanks brings home yakisoba. sabo picks the mushrooms out, using the brief silence to address the topic from earlier.

“so, remind me. who’s the party for?”

“ah, an old friend of makino’s,” shanks mumbles around his food. thankfully, he washes it down with water before speaking again. “don’t ask me his name.” he waves off sabo’s look. “some old guy. his grandson’s graduating today. that’s what this all’s for.”

“lots of people?”

shanks quirks a brow, stabbing more noodles. “matter much? not like you have anywhere to be, mister unemployed.”

sabo huffs, picking out the last of the mushrooms. “i said i’d come, didn’t i?”

several hours later, he might be regretting those words.

the house of makino’s friend was huge. certainly bigger than he was expecting. the family had some wealth, that was for sure.

the head of the house was an older man with a loud laugh. could hit hard, too, his friendly slap on the back still leaving sabo in shivers if he thought about it too long. he hadn’t seen the man of the hour, but he’d heard of him in passing several times, oh he’s gone to do this or got caught before that could happen or just saw him doing something he shouldn’t.

reckless, was his first impression.

as the night wore on, he’d grown too weary to care anymore. now he was camped out on a small balcony, shielded somewhat from the chatter and attention inside. makino had found him and shanks not long after they’d arrived, and gone around introducing them to more people than sabo could ever hope to remember.

he shivers, moving his shoulders more inward. he’d dressed more down for the night than he had that morning, but his sweater wasn’t quite thick enough to keep out the breeze that had picked up. he shifts, leaning more on the low railing, and gazes out at the cityscape. inside, voices raise as a small commotion picks up. he doesn’t pay it mind.

“twilight,” he mutters, gaze caught on the setting sun sliding just beneath the horizon line, bathing the sky in a dim glow.

“half-light,” a voice behind him corrects.

sabo blinks, turns his head back.

there’s someone standing in the doorway, hand on one of the banisters. the backglow from inside the house makes their features hard to place, but the last of the sun’s light puts it into focus. he seemed familiar, but sabo can’t put his finger on it. then it clicks -he looks like makino’s friend.

“you’re not luffy,” he states. if anything, he looked closer to sabo’s age.

the guy blinks back, a flicker of surprise coating his expression. “i sure hope not,” he answers back, rolling his eyes as an audible shout from back inside reached them.

sabo frowns. “hm.”

he steps forward just as sabo encounters another roaming thought, leaning against the railing a couple feet away, and sabo lets his gaze fall back to the city as he asks. “what’s half-light?”

the guy chuckles, a short, breathy thing that has sabo’s hairs raising. “local dialect,” he answers. “something i picked up back home. it means the same thing.”

sabo blinks, lips closing as his unasked question gets answered. not local to here, he meant to say, but he changes the words now. “what are you here for?”

the color of the sky fades from bright to a deeper blue, and the moon’s glow begins to set in. it catches on his companion’s face as he turns to sabo again, bathes his silver eyes in wan light, bright enough for sabo to catch the confusion before it slips away, like he’s missed something, like he’s asked the wrong question. in another moment it’s gone, and he casually leans against the railing, a smile playing on his lips.

“school, at first,” he hums. “that’s over with now. it’s strange, though. i’ve always dreamed of coming to goa, of getting away from that life.” he shrugs. “i didn’t think i’d be bringing my entire family along, though.”

it’s an offhand gesture, next, that catches sabo’s attention. a wave of a hand, back to the house, and his mind feels open. it could mean different. he could be referring to more of the guests. somehow sabo doubts this, and he latches on to the suspicion. his eyes narrow. “are you sure you’re not luffy?” he asks again, because shanks had only ever mentioned one grandson, and he didn’t appreciate being strung along-

laughing snaps him out of that thought before he can finish it. it’s certainly a different reaction than before, and sabo prepares himself, ready to have the rug ripped from under him, yeah, i was messing with you, i am.

instead, his expectations are ripped to shreds. again.

“no,” the guy insists, laugh petering off. “i’m his older brother.”

before sabo can think much on that, he tips his head, eyes glinting. “and you? never seen you around before. who’d you come with?” he pauses for a moment, eyes going wide, and stifles another laugh with a hand over his mouth. “more like, who drug you here?”

sabo huffs before he can help it. “i came willingly,” he insists. when the guy doesn’t budge, he deigns him an answer. “makino. and shanks.”

the guy’s expression brightens. “oh, makino!” he says, and his tone is entirely different now. brighter. happier. “right, i saw her awhile ago. i didn’t know shanks was here, though, haven’t seen him yet-” he cuts himself off, blinking, as if he had just realized something. “wait. they brought you? no offense, but that seems kinda odd, if you didn’t even know . .” he trails off. “how do you know them?”

sabo hesitates. he hadn’t realized shanks was formally familiar with the family as well, leaving him the outsider in the mix. he’d assumed it was just makino, and that they were both there with her. guess he was wrong. guess- “i lived with them for a bit,” sabo admits.

he purses his lips, relenting as he sees the statement was getting nowhere, his companion still trying to piece it together. “for . . a long time, actually. since i was a kid.” he raises his hands at the alarmed expression across from him. “it wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking,” he says. “it was . . well, they looked after me, and i appreciate them, but they weren’t like my parents or anything.” he shrugs. “they kinda have their own kid now, right? it was similar, but it wasn’t the same.”

“oh. okay.” the guy blinks again, then turns around. he stares at the city for a while, at all the flashing lights, like he had expected different. like he was surprised that the moon was out. he turns back to sabo again. “you don’t know much about us, do you?”

it’s sabo’s turn to look away. kinda obvious at this point, considering he didn’t know there was a second grandson. and yet, instead of defending himself, he felt like admitting. “i didn’t even know your family existed until earlier today. this party was kinda . . sprung on me.”

he blinks, and then turns back to the even gaze of silver eyes. “you said ‘back home’, earlier. where is that?”

“ah.” he rubs at his head. “well, don’ go around saying that,” he mumbles. “not something i like to admit, that i still consider it . .” his lips screw up; sabo squints as he catches it. they even out as his gaze lifts again, looking back into sabo’s eyes. “you’ve heard of fuusha, right?”

sabo’s lips part, but he stumbles on his reply. he shivers through his sweater. his gaze whites out for a moment, and he blinks it away, desperate to hold on yet feeling like he was missing something, like it was finally right there, on the edge of his consciousness. there’s a roaring in his head, blocking everything out, and when garp’s grandson steps forward, says something out of concern, sabo can’t hear a word over the noise.

he doesn’t hear, frozen stiff, until hands lay on his arms, near his shoulders, and he’s being shaken, just a little. “hey, you’re kinda scaring me here,” sabo hears, and then he blinks, and he’s snapped back to the present, silver eyes right in front of him, cast with concern. he lets his mouth finally fall shut. his gaze shifts away.

“sorry,” he mutters.

the hands fall. the warmth where they once were lingers, just for a moment. “you good? you sure?”

“fuusha,” sabo says instead of answering, still feeling weird, off, and wanting to draw the topic away from himself. “so you’ve been here five years.”

the guy blinks. “give or take. about.” he moves his hands from hovering in the air, as if sabo would have another fit and pitch forward, to down by his side. sabo’s gaze catches on his wrist, where a red band was looped around. he recalls one of the articles he glanced at earlier in the day, and then nods to it.

“that’s a braided cord, right?”

a hand wraps around the cord, shielding it from view, before slowly moving away. he lifts it up for sabo to see more clearly, the ends fading from red to yellow to blue, slightly frayed at the edges. “yeah. my mom made it for me.”

right as he says that, ace has a startling realization. one that casts him away from the conversation for a moment, that puts perspective into a different light.

the blond reminded him of his mother.

maybe that’s why the interest was there.

rouge had light hair. it was stringy, most of the time, like she barely bothered taking care of it, instead of meticulously doing so only for the wind that day to blow it out of proportion. though every picture they had left of her had her smiling, he remembered her sunny smiles as rare; she had an array of expressions, and she liked to cast things into doubt, questioning at every turn, much to his grandfather’s annoyance.

she smiled when ace did, though. just like the blond was now, lips quirking up almost in response to ace’s smile, born there from reminiscing about her.

the moonlight was heavy, now, and ace can see his face clear. his fair skin, something he hadn’t picked up from rouge, and was thankful for, whenever she would come home red and blotchy, a sunburn welling up easily from being out for too long. he remembers her crying to dragon until he offered to rub lotion onto her shoulders, and screaming as luffy came up after and climbed into her arms, rough handprints harming the sensitive skin.

she was stubborn as all hell, and was always willing to get into it with anyone that rubbed her the wrong way. the scourge of fuusha, they called her. and they weren’t wrong, no matter how well she had charmed gramps and dragon into believing otherwise. ace remembers, starkly, her coming in late one night, cupping a bruise on her face, and wincing when she saw ace had caught sight of it.

he blinks, and then she fades into the blond, looking disgruntled, and the bump above his eyebrow put into full view as his bangs are swiped out of the way, evidence of the scuffle he’d gotten into put on display.

ace tugs on the knot tying the cord to his wrist, loosening it. he unravels it and holds it out, between the two of them. “you can look at it, if you want,” he offers, eyes flicking from the cord to the blond.

slowly, he reaches out to take it from ace, fascination shown on his face. “it’s well-made,” he notes, loosely taking it up and holding it closer.

rouge was cunning and smart. she could talk her way out of any situation, from what ace had seen. when she couldn’t, well, she knew how to get away if she couldn’t win in a fight, sporting bruises but still holding a victory overall.

she taught ace how to scrap, but he never really used it. that was more luffy’s thing, when he grew older.

but she taught ace more than how to use his fists. ace hadn’t entered primary school until she’d passed, stubbornly insisting that he was too good for an institution, that she could school him just fine, at home. she’d been good at it, too, despite the deceptive intentions she had, her reasoning more on the lines of having ace all to herself, instead of believing whatever she had spouted about fuusha schools being corrupt.

she taught him how to weave and braid thread. she taught him how to write, how to spell. she taught him the laws of fuusha no one talked about aloud, the silent expectations everyone held. she taught him how to charm gramps into doing whatever he wanted. she taught him how to get away with messing up.

she taught him what love was.

and. he remembers.

as his hand slips back down to his side, wrist bare.

sabo, studious. always complaining at ace for leaving him without homework to turn in, or slacking on class notes and making him stumble on a test. to waking up with his arms covered in ink, angry rant sprawled onto his skin.

sabo, eyes rimmed red from staying up late to study, leaving ace to drag him from the bed far too early, refreshed mind doing nothing when the body he was controlling was bone tired.

he remembers angrily taking a marker to sabo’s skin on days like those, scribbling notes in almost illegible handwriting for him to take care of yourself and go to sleep at reasonable times and, his favorite, get your shit together!

he’d write that one over and over, big and bold, across his arms and down his legs, all over his face, so he’d be forced to see it and reevaluate how he treated his body.

sabo, who was quick-witted and scrappy, but too late to throw a punch. ace couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up in the blond’s body with a split lip or nasty cut or yellowing bruise. then he’d drag himself to school and get yelled at by koala for being reckless again and making everyone worry again. he’d go home and cover it and ignore makino’s worried eyes the best he could.

that was right. makino and shanks. he lets sabo’s earlier words play back and can’t help but think differently, from what he’d experienced. so they had a baby, a real child, now. it didn’t change the fact that they cared about sabo.

sabo, meticulous. writing notes to ace with a careful script, detailing each event that had transpired while he was in ace’s body. excelling at classwork with knowledge three years ahead of ace’s own. pissing off old man crocus with smarty replies, the exact answer he didn’t expect to each of his tough questions to things ace shouldn’t have learned yet. managing to do all this, yet never getting ace’s hairstyle right, and tangling his cord, and messing his speech, and attempting to flirt with people he definitely shouldn’t be attempting to flirt with.

sabo, teasing kidd and lami, living ace’s life for him, all those months splitting a body with a guy he had never met. scribbling in thick, crisp font reminders for ace before he went to sleep and woke up in his own body. making sure ace took care of himself. fretting when he didn’t. writing off his own worries and trying to figure why ace was unhappy with life, even as the people around him, ace included, insist he care for himself for a change.

sabo, who wrote and wrote and wrote, detailing his life so that he’d never forget again, like he’d forgotten most of his life before makino and shanks.

sabo, who reminded him so much of his mother, not just in appearance, but in everything ace had learned and cherished and forgotten, all those years ago.

sabo, who taught him so many things. who taught him, just like his mother, how to love, how to hold dear, how to forgive, how to remember.

“it’s nice,” sabo mutters, then holds the cord back out for ace to take.

his breath catches. but. bu-

so he really didn’t remember?

ace shuts his eyes for a moment. works on breathing again. he opens them and reaches for the cord, trying not to let his frustration show. before he can grab hold, though, a voice startles the pair of them.

“sabo, there you are! we’re ready to leave now. coming?” shanks is smiling, eyes only for the blond, who flinches back at the noise, and ace’s hand catches onto air as the cord is moved away. he furrows his brow, but doesn’t reach out again.

that’s when shanks seems to notice him. “oh! hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!” shanks steps forward to wrap ace in a hug that quickly turns into a mock chokehold, and ace forgoes the cord entirely in favor of latching to shanks’ arm, trying to pry it off.

“yeah, it’s been real nice,” he rasps. “not having to see your ugly mug-”

“ah come on now!” shanks whines. “you don’t really mean that!”

a call of his name has him settling down, and he releases ace when he remembers he was on a time crunch. “right, well, good to see you again. gotta head out now, i’ll stick around longer next time.” he winks and ace does his best exasperated expression, the luffy you are being ridiculous to extreme lengths and i am on my last straw look, but it breaks when shanks turns away, and he has to smile with his back turned, a little glad he’d gotten to see the redhead again after all this time.

“ready, sabo?” shanks asks. sabo only has time to nod before shanks flashes him a thumbs-up. “great! meet you at the car.” he’s gone after that, skipping back inside, leaving sabo to furrow his brows in confusion.

“car?” he mutters.

“makino drove,” ace tells him, and his attention snaps back up.

“oh.” he nods. his hands tighten into fists. then he realizes. “oh! here’s -this, back.”

he reaches out again, but ace waves him off, turning slightly away. “keep it.”

sabo’s brows raise. “isn’t it important?”

this meeting is important, he thinks. “give it back the next time you see me,” he says instead, because he’s not willing to give up.

sabo blinks, unsure of how to respond, but another call of his name reaches them before he can decide. so, instead of a proper answer, he holds out the band again to ace, and his bare wrist with the other. “tie it for me, then,” he says, and ace feels a grin forming as he steps forward, because it’d been a long time since he’d heard words so daring coming from the blond.

#saboace #SABOACEWEEK2019P2 #acesabo #writing #one piece #iye/lme #so i checked and i shouldve ended where i wanted to last time hah #i didnt realize there was so little left #im busy all day today so im throwing this up early

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parkerrogersgirl · 6 years

Text

Tempting Fate- Chapter 16

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2,551 (Got super wordy on this one, sorry not sorry. It was 3am and I aggressively could not sleep)

Warnings: Fluff n’ smut; lots of cuteness

A/N: Hey, y’all! @sonofadeanwinchester and I decided it’d be cool if we wrote a series together. SO, HERE’S CHAPTER 16! Please, please, please give us feedback. Feedback is the glue that keeps the writers together. We need the feedback. Send either of us an ask, and we’ll just send each other screenshots. Or you can send it to both of us. Thanks, lovelies.

Reader’s POV

You wake up early in the morning and reach for Sebastian, finding an empty bed. You’re confused for a moment before you remember the events of last night. You sigh, putting on a robe before going downstairs. You see that Sebastian is sitting at the kitchen table, and you slowly sneak into the kitchen, avoiding your fiancé.

You accidentally stub your toe on the table, shouting “FUCK,” and getting Sebastian’s attention.

He stands, hugging you tightly to him, “I’m so sorry, darling. I know I was selfish. I’m terrible.”

You look up at him, shrugging, “it’s okay. I overreacted.”

“You really didn’t, though. I was stupid. I know you aren’t big on people, and I put myself before you. Now that we’re engaged, I need to put you first. So I’ve decided that I want you to be at my interview this morning.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Sebby…”

“I promise, it’ll go great. Please come? It’s important to me. Everyone needs to see how incredible you are, and that I’m madly in love with you.”

“If it means that much to you, then yes, I’ll go. BUT I have to take a shower first.”

He smirks, looking into your eyes. His are dark, filled with lust, as he asks, “can I join?”

You wink, running upstairs to get in the shower as he chases you into the guest bathroom. You turn on the shower and strip, quickly getting in before Sebastian. He follows suit, promptly joining you in the shower. He presses you up against the wall, kissing you roughly. You moan into the kiss and reach up, pulling on his hair. He reaches down, his finger playing in your already slick folds. You gasp, tugging harder on his hair. He bites your bottom lip as he slips two fingers in, pumping them in and out.

“You’re already so ready for me, darling,” he groans in your ear.

You move your head to nibble his neck, eliciting a growl from him. He pulls his fingers out and pulls you up so your arms and legs are around him. He lines himself up with your slit before slamming into you, and you moan loudly.

“FUCK, SEB.”

He smirks, pounding into you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, “we don’t have much time, scumpa mea. And I want to get as much of you as I can before we leave for the day.”

You moan louder upon hearing his Romanian pet name for you, and you already feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. His thrusts become less precise, and he starts to falter gradually. He kisses you passionately as you cum, and he follows seconds later.

You kiss him back, and he pulls away briefly, looking into your eyes, “how was that for makeup sex?”

You blush as you get off him, getting under the water to start washing your hair. “I don’t know, baby. That was my first experience with that.”

He raises an eyebrow, “no way. You’ve never had makeup sex?”

You turn around, looking at him seriously, “Sebastian, you were my first.”

After your shower, you blow dried and curled your hair, applying just a tiny bit of makeup. You put on a knee-length red dress, adding a pair of black ankle boots to the ensemble. Sebastian exits the bathroom and looks you up and down. He walks closer to you, looking like a hunter stalking his prey.

“Darling, you look downright sinful in red. I can’t wait to take that dress off later tonight. I’m tempted to go so far as to say I’d spank you, but I don’t know how well that would go over,” he says as he gets so close that your chests are touching, slipping an arm around you to grab your ass.

You smirk, staring into his eyes, “you know, Sebastian… I think that could be fun.”

His eyes go wide and he kisses you deeply, squeezing your ass harder. He kneads his fingers into your flesh, holding you tight.

You escape the kiss to catch your breath, looking up at him, “don’t start anything now, Seb. You’re making me go to this interview, and if we start mischief now, we’ll never get out of here.”

He shrugs, holding out his arm, “let's go then, milady.”

He drives the rental car to BuzzFeed HQ, and you were not excited. Sure, BuzzFeed was great for quizzes, but they weren’t exactly a reliable news source. On the other hand, BuzzFeed specifically caters to the average age of Seb’s fan base, so at least his message would get across.

Sebastian was going to be interviewed by Kristin Harris, who was the Celebrity Editor at BuzzFeed. She wanted to get to know you and Sebastian a bit before the interview, so you headed straight up to her office.

She welcomed you and Seb into her office, and she wasn’t even phased by him. Well, okay. She was a little, but come on. He’s Adonis. She asked you about your history together and how you’d reconnected, and she started tearing up a little when Seb took your hand and started talking about fate. She asked what you thought about the threats and everything, and you told her the truth. You told her that you were shocked by how people were treating a stranger, and that you were raised to never speak ill of anyone you’d never met.

“Well, hopefully, this interview will help people realize that you’re actually a delightful person. Hell, I’ve only known you for 10 minutes and I love you,” she tells you.

“Aww, thank you so much!” You say, blushing, as Seb takes your hand again, giving it a light squeeze.

“So,” Kristin starts, “I think I figured out a plan of what we should do. I think I should interview Sebastian for a few minutes, and then, (Y/N), we’ll bring you in so you two can play our BFF Game. How’s that sound?”

Sebastian looks at you, feeling you start to panic, “(Y/N)’s not really a camera person.” “That’s fine, we can make it so that you won’t even see that camera. Is that better?” You smile, nodding at her, “that sounds great, actually.”

She grins and calls her team in, and she ushers you and Seb off to get camera ready. They adjust your makeup to compensate for the lighting in the room, but otherwise, they leave you alone. Although, one of the hair people kept fluffing up your curls because she was obsessed with your hair. It was awkward, but you’d live.

When they finish with you, you’re brought out to the room where Seb will be interviewed. He’s sitting in the chair and he grins at you as you walk over to him. You kiss him softly and he pulls you onto his lap, making you giggle.

“You ready for this, baby?”

You shrug, “if it’ll get people to stop threatening to come after me, I’m desperate for anything.”

He nuzzles your neck, kissing it softly, “I’m so proud of you for doing this, darling. I know you hate cameras, so I’m incredibly proud of you for agreeing to this.”

You grin, kissing him softly, “if it means I get to marry you eventually, then I’m down for anything.”

Kristen knocks on the door and you turn around, feeling awkward. You start to get up, but she stops you.

“Actually, this is perfect for the photo that’s gonna go in the article and on social media.” She grabs her phone and you put an arm around his shoulders, grinning at the camera. She takes the picture and you get off Seb’s lap. Kristin ushers you to a spot next to the camera so you can watch the interview, and Seb winks at you. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to be on camera.

The cameraman gives Kristin the signal and she starts the interview.

“Heyyyy, everyone! I’m Kristin Harris, Celebrity Editor at BuzzFeed, and I’m here with Sebastian Stan. So, Sebastian, welcome to Florida. How do you like it so far?”

“I love it, actually. I’ve spent the last few days at amusement parks, and I’m a bit obsessed with Universal Studios. It’s pretty humid down here, though. We only have dry air out in L.A. Here in Orlando, if I’m outside for more than 2 minutes, I’m already soaked in sweat.”

She laughs, “that’s very true, it’s quite humid down here. And it’s understandable that you love Universal, I think most people do. So what’s going on with filming and everything?”

“Well, we all just finished up the last two Avengers movies, and it’s weird knowing that some of the cast is completely done, so we had a bit of a bittersweet end to filming.”

“Any hints on who’s out?” She presses.

“Nope, sorry. Can’t reveal anything. All of us are already terrible secret keepers, so if anyone spills any secrets, pretty sure Marvel can legally send an assassin after us,” she says with a shrug.

“Well, you seem like a pretty good secret keeper. Your fiancée, for example. No one had any idea about her until you made an Instagram post about her. How’d that happened?”

“Well, we met when we were 8 years old. We were childhood sweethearts, and we dated for our junior and senior years of high school. I left to go to college to start acting, and we didn’t talk for 5 years. But, we were on the same flight from L.A. to Orlando and our seats were right next to each other, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity fate presented to me, and there’s no way in hell I was going to lose the love of my life twice.”

She wipes a tear from her eye, putting a hand over her heart, “that’s absolutely beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, your fiancée (Y/N) is here to play a game with us, so let’s bring her on!”

Sebastian holds out his hand and you sit in the chair next to him as he kisses you softly. “Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I’m Sebastian’s fiancée.” You wave at the camera, squeezing Seb’s hand.

“Alright, (Y/N), tell us about yourself, and your relationship with Sebastian.”

“Well, like Seb said, we met when we were eight. He was getting bullied because he was the new kid with the funny accent, so I pretty much told the bully to eff off, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“And that was pretty much the day I realized I loved her,” Seb says, kissing your cheek.

You blush, and Kristin grins, “God, you two are adorable. It’s ridiculous. Alright, are we ready to play a game?”

“Let’s do it,” you and Seb say simultaneously. Kristin hands you each a white board and a marker, and you grin at Seb.

“Alright, we’re gonna play the BFF game. Basically, I’m going to ask a question about one of you, and hopefully, you’ll both give the same answers. So, first question- what movie makes (Y/N) cry every time?”

You roll your eyes, knowing she was starting off with an easy question. You scribble down your answer, hiding your answer from Seb. The timer goes off, and you both reveal your answers-

“E.T.”

Kristin applauds you, and Sebastian laughs, “We went on the E.T. ride at Universal and she cried. It was pretty cute. We were actually watching E.T. the first time she cried in front of me. It was a big deal.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of memories for one movie. So, next question- what is Sebastian’s all time favorite American food?”

You think for a minute, biting your lip before you write down your answer.

He finishes a second later, and you turn your board to show Kristin your responses-

“Mac and cheese with hot dogs.”

“Wait,” Kristin says, confused, “macaroni with hot dogs on the side, or actually in the pasta?”

“In the pasta. The first time he came over to my house, my stepdad made him macaroni with a hot dog on the side. He’d never had macaroni before, and he was immediately addicted. He dipped the hot dog in the pasta, and the rest is history.”

“Wow, you two have a lot of stories together. Let’s keep going, shall we?”

She keeps asking you questions, and you get every single one correct. After the interview is over, Kristin gets a selfie and tells you the video will be posted within an hour. You get out of the building and get back in the car, sighing deeply.

Seb leans over, hugging you tightly, “I am so proud of you for that, darling. You were incredible.”

“Are you sure, Sebby? I was so nervous…”

“Baby, you were amazing. I can’t believe how well you did. They’re going to love you. Probably more than they love me, actually. Not sure how I feel about that.”

You blush, kissing him deeply. He puts a hand on your cheek, kissing you harder. You deepen the kiss, and he puts his hand on the small of your back.

“We should probably get going, darling. I want us to have a really relaxing day. I talked to Gabe, and he’s gonna get your mom out of the house for the day, and your sister is going to go hang out with friends at the mall.”

“What are you planning, Sebastian?”

“You’ll find out, baby,” he says with a wink before he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving back to your parents’ house.

You got off the bus, holding Sebastian’s hand as you led him to your house, using your key to unlock the front door. Your mom and Gabe had always wanted you to have a key just in case you needed to get home and they were at work. “MAAAAAAHMMMMMM I BROUGHT SEBASTIAN HOME,” you yelled.

Gabe shouted back from the kitchen, “are we keeping him hostage?”

“No, Gabe, he’s just staying for dinner. He’s never had macaroni,” you replied as you walked into the kitchen.

“Excuse me? This boy has never had mac and cheese? Alright, we’re fixing this now.” He opened the pantry and grabbed two boxes of Kraft Mac & Cheese, starting to make it. “Sit down, kid, I’m about to change your life.”

You and Sebastian did your homework for a few minutes at the table, and Gabe brought over your dinner.

“Thanks, Gabe,” you said as you started eating. You noticed he added a hot dog on the side, which was classic Gabe. Gabe looooooved his protein.

Sebastian looked at you quizzically, “it’s so…. Orange.”

“Just eat it, Seb. It’s good, I promise. If you want to be a real American, you gotta eat it.”

He shook his head as he took a bite, his eyes going wide, “THIS IS AMAZING.” He picks up his hot dog with a fork, dipping it in the pasta. “AND THIS IS EVEN BETTER.”

You did the same, moaning to yourself, “wow, this is actually really really good.”

He grinned, wolfing down his dinner, “I want this for dinner every night.”

You smiled at your best friend, knowing that you’d be friends with Sebastian Stan for a long time.

MY Tag List (Let me know if you’d like to be added!):

@sis-tafics @my-emotional-self @thankyouforanonymity @gatorgal94 @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @summer-winchester @thevampywitch @princess76179 @sebbies @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jcc04220 @lostess-souless @samanddeanmyguardianhunters @ilovethefandomwho @dancer2001 @a-tale-of-two-comics @moondustparker @yleryoseeph @magellan-88 @healojane @sarahp879 @mizz-kraziii @lostinspace33 @silver-starburst @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @guera31 @destielinamoose @808shelbsters @demonkitkat @hoe4sebstan @izzy206-2001 @esther-alves-world @maslow-90 @tinyfistwarrior @mrs-meghan-winchester

@sonofadeanwinchester ‘s Tag List:

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#Sebastian Stan #Sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

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smoaking-greenarrow · 7 years

Text

Prompt from @kk1986 on A03:

“First of all....loveyour writing! So tumblr was mean and I had difficulties leaving a prompt. So taking my chances on here. Could you do a Drabble about Felicity early season 2 ( before Russia and Sara) or late season 1....and Felicity needing to become her alter ego in the cyber world to solve a mystery? I just feel like if Oliver saw Goth Felicity....and the badass she is/the near worship of her skills from others- it would completely change his whole view on Felicity. She no longer would be the innocent sweet girl, but a woman that is a force of nature who had to hide her true self after a tragic event....something you know Oliver may relate to.

I just think it would have been so cool to see, because I feel it would have changed everything in their dynamic throughout the series. Gotta love ripples with one plot change.”

Part 1: The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most

Oliver glanced up from Felicity’s computer screen as he heard the door open and her heels clicking down the stairs. She frowned when she noticed him. “You’re in my chair. And you’re touching my computers.” She looked at Diggle across the room and narrowed her eyes at him. “I told you not to let him do that anymore.” She whined.

Oliver sighed, throwing a glare at her. “We have a problem. Someone attacked Laurel last night.”

“Oh my god,” Felicity said, stepping towards them. “Is she okay?” She asked, taking her coat off. “What happened?”

“His name is Lonnie Machin.” Oliver explained.

Felicity froze.

“He tried to grab Laurel when she was coming out of the courthouse. He said that Laurel could help him find something.” Oliver stared at the screen, “But I need to find him first.” Felicity still hadn’t moved but he didn’t notice, tapping away at the keys. “I was hoping you could work your magic, Felicity, and get me some information on him.” Oliver huffed, annoyed at the computers that he still struggled to operate. “Laurel got away, but she’s a little bit banged up. She’s staying with her dad until we can locate Machin.”

“Felicity?” Diggle asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he stepped towards her. Her purse hung in her frozen hand where she was about to drop it on the table. She stared at Oliver, her eyes wide and vacant. Dig’s tone made Oliver glance up at him, and then at Felicity. They both moved toward her. “Felicity, what is it?”

Her head felt a little lighter, probably because she hadn’t taken a breath since she heard his name. Her gaze fell to the screen as Oliver stood up, a picture of Lonnie Machin displayed on the monitor. “I know what he’s looking for.” She whispered, unable to pry her eyes away from the face that had haunted her dreams for years.

Oliver and John shared a look, and then Diggle was blocking her view of the photo, his face right in front of hers. “Hey,” he mumbled, taking her face in his hands. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, Felicity.” Her blurry vision focused on Dig’s eyes, and she inhaled deeply. “Breathe.” he said softly, taking a breath in himself. She released hers as he did.

She took one more deep breath for good measure, and then she looked at Oliver. “He’s looking for me.” She mumbled, water filling her eyes. Oliver cocked his head to the side in confusion, and John’s hands froze where they were on her face. She glanced back and forth between them, trying to blink away the tears. “He’s looking for me.” She whispered. “He found me.”

Diggle led her to her chair and guided her to sit down. Oliver knelt down in front of her. “Who is he, Felicity?”

“I dated him my freshman year of college.” She said, her eyes flickering back to the screen. “He’s...he’s a psychopath.” she said, biting her lip. “I went out with him twice. And then he started showing up everywhere I went. I’d see him when I walked to class, when I came home, at my favorite coffee shop. He would just watch me. And I tried to ignore him.” She sniffled, her voice breaking, “I didn’t want it to be real. I tried to ignore it. I told myself there was no way that it was happening.”

“He was stalking you.” Oliver said, his voice tightening, his eyes growing dark and violent.

“He followed me around for weeks. But he never touched me or even tried to speak to me. I went to Campus Police but they said that if the most of my problems was a kid who ‘happened’ to be in the same place as me, then that was the least of their problems.”

Oliver’s brows pushed together. “They didn’t help you?”

“Not until three months later. Lonnie finally talked to me. I was running late for class, but I needed coffee before dealing with Mr. Gilbert’s lecture, because it was literally the most boring class of my college career and caffeine was an essential part of my survival that semester, and every semester, actually-”

“Felicity.”

“Right. I was behind schedule. And I think that made Lonnie on edge. When I came out of the coffee shop, he was on the street. He asked me where I’d been. He said he’d been worried about me and told me never to do something like that again.”

Oliver put a hand on her knee. “What happened?”

Felicity sighed, “I told him that he was crazy. He got upset. He started yelling at me. Calling me a whore, screaming that I was all he had, that he’d given me everything and I was a heartless bitch for taking it all. He pinned me against the wall on Fifth Ave, where six different witnesses called the police.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?” John asked.

Felicity shook her head, and Oliver’s hand tightened on her knee. “I went to class, and then I went to my friend’s dorm room. I didn’t want to be alone, but I told myself to suck it up. I had an early morning, none of my things, and I needed sleep. So I went back to my house. The police were looking for him and told me that he was probably miles away from town...they thought for sure that he was spooked out of town. They underestimated his obsession. And so did I.” Felicity lifted her shoulder, her eyes brimming with tears again. “He was waiting for me in the dark.”

She heard Oliver’s breath hitch, John’s grumbled threat. She slammed her eyes shut so she didn’t have to look at them when she told them the rest. “He had a knife. I managed to hide from him for almost an hour before the cops showed up.”

“You found a way to call them?” Dig asked.

She sighed, “No. The neighbors heard me screaming.”

Felicity stood, keeping her eyes closed and feeling Oliver’s body inches from hers. “Screaming?” Oliver asked, his voice low. Felicity took a deep breath. She lifted her shirt up and opened her eyes, needing to see their reaction.

John and Oliver both glanced down to her stomach. Diggle swore, putting his hands on his head and stepping away. Oliver kept his reaction more controlled. His eyes lingered on her bare stomach, his jaw tensing and his shoulders growing stiff. His eyes trailed back up to hers and all she saw was pure rage staring back at her. “He did this to you?” Oliver asked through his teeth, gesturing to Machin’s picture.

Felicity swallowed and nodded once. “When I woke up in the hospital, it took me months to recover physically. And twice as long to recover mentally and emotionally. But even as the doctors told me that I was healed, even as the therapists and the shrinks cleared me to return to my normal life...these eight scars were a huge blow to my self-esteem. They were a constant reminder of him.” Felicity glanced at her computers, “I hated myself almost as much as I hated him.”

Both of the men watched her for a long moment. “Why didn’t I find anything about this when I did a background check on you?” Oliver asked.

Felicity sighed, “I erased it all from any records tied to my name. He still has a criminal record, but I wanted to forget. I spent the rest of my time at MIT being the girl who almost got murdered by a psychopath. I didn’t want to be known as that girl anymore. So I moved out here...I changed everything about myself, and I pretended it never happened. It works. Until I look at these scars.”

“Felicity...” Oliver took her hand that she hadn’t known she’d been gripping her stomach with. He shook his head slightly, like he wanted to say a handful of things but wouldn’t let any of them out.

She forced a smile, “Or until he comes to town and tries to hurt your friend’s ex-girlfriend to find you.” Felicity pulled her hand out of Oliver’s, pulling her shirt down and sitting in her chair. She cleared her throat and started her process of finding him. “Luckily for us, I hacked into every police station within a fifty mile radius from Starling, Vegas, and Cambridge, and set up red flag alerts if Machin causes any trouble. He’s been laying low ever since my attack. Or he found a new place. I haven’t gotten a hit off of him since his arrest.”

“How can we find him now?”

“I’ll look through security footage from the courthouse and see if I can find out where he went after Laurel scared him off. And then I’ll find his bank information to see if we can find out what he’s planning.”

Oliver nodded, leaning over her chair to watch the monitors. “Felicity,” he started hesitantly. She kept at her task, not turning to look at him. “What happened to Machin, after he...”

She glanced at him now. Then she sighed, keeping her eyes on his. “I got revenge, Oliver. I put him on the No-Fly list. I got him onto the Most Wanted list. I made it impossible for him to find a good job, or buy a house, and then I drained his bank accounts and took everything he had. I ruined his life.”

Oliver nodded seriously. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Good.”

“Are you sure that this is where Machin is?” Oliver asked, his green hood and arrows in place as he stalked through the abandoned warehouse.

“Yes,” Felicity said in his ear. “The traffic cameras show him turning the corner of Broadway and then he disappears. It’s the only place he could have gone.”

“I hear something.” Oliver said. She could hear his uneven breath as he began to run. “John, second floor.”

“On it.” John started to run too, and Felicity closed her eyes as she listened to their footsteps pounding up the stairs. She held on tightly to her desk. “He’s on the roof,” Diggle mumbled, his voice low. “I saw him running up there.”

“I’ll be there in one minute.” Oliver huffed, his footsteps moving faster.

There was a pause, the only sounds coming from Oliver’s feet. “John?” Felicity asked.

“Diggle, wait for me.” Oliver demanded. He rushed up the steps to the roof, his bow raised. “Lonnie Machin.” Oliver growled, seeing the man they’d been trying to find for three days. Machin stared right through Oliver, a knife at John’s throat.

“Drop the knife.” Oliver said harshly. “Or I will put you down.”

“Where is Felicity Smoak?” Machin seethed, sending shivers up Felicity’s spine. She hadn’t heard his voice since he was pleading with her to come out of her hiding spot in her closet at MIT.

“Machin,” Oliver said through his teeth, “I promise you...you will never lay a hand on Felicity Smoak again. You will never even look at her.”

Machin laughed, and Oliver aimed his arrow at his forehead, right between the eyes. “I’ll find her. I know I must be close if even the vigilantes are coming out to play.”

“This is over!” Oliver yelled, “Drop it!”

“Not. Until. I. Have. Her.”

“Stay away from Felicity.” Oliver growled.

Lonnie Machin cocked his head to the side, “You’re fond of her, are you, archer?” Oliver clenched his jaw, waiting for the right moment to shoot. Machin laughed again, a deranged, unstable sound, “I can’t blame you. Felicity is a special girl. I miss her...I bet she’s just dying to see me again, too. Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

Machin smirked, and Oliver fired an arrow at his head. Machin dodged, ducking behind John. Then in one swift motion, as Oliver reloaded his bow, Machin sunk his knife into Diggle’s chest.

Oliver fired three more arrows as he ran towards his friend and Machin ran towards the edge of the roof. Diggle gripped his chest, holding onto the base of the knife where Machin had pushed the whole blade through. “Go!” He yelled at Oliver.

With John being conscious, Oliver ran to the ledge of the building as Machin climbed it.

Without hesitation, he threw himself over the edge. he held his arms out and jumped, soaring off the building and towards the ground. It was too foggy on the rooftop to see where Machin landed, and Oliver sighed.

Rushing back over to John, he was relieved to note exactly where the blade had landed. Not in the heart. That was all that could matter at the moment. “Ready?” Oliver asked, knowing that John would understand.

“Do it.” Dig said, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw.

Oliver grabbed the knife and pulled it out, immediately applying pressure to the wound. “We need to get you patched up.”

“No. You need to go.”

“Where?” Oliver asked, holding on to John’s wound. He flinched in pain.

“Felicity!”

“Machin just hurled himself off a building, John.”

“Oliver.” Diggle seethed, “Do you really think Machin would jump if he didn’t have a safe place to land? Go! Find Felicity!”

Oliver hesitated. “I need to get you to a hospital before you bleed out!”

“Call the police on your way! Tell them that you saw a mugging on the roof. Just go!”

Oliver nodded once, pressing the button that Felicity added to his suit, “Felicity?” He asked. When he didn’t get an answer, he felt his heart rate pick up. “Felicity, are you there?”

Cursing, Oliver checked on Dig one more time, seeing that he was applying pressure himself and still conscious, he took off towards the foundry. He called for an ambulance for Diggle, and then he called Felicity over and over until he was running down the stairs. “Felicity!” He screamed, his eyes darting around the empty room.

Nothing looked out of place. Even her things were gone. Her chair was pushed in. Her monitors black as if she’d shut them off for the night. Oliver took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He had one split second where he let himself hope that she had just gone home. But he knew her. She would never leave in the middle of a mission like that; not with the people she cares about on top of a roof trying to catch the man who’d hurt her.

He slammed his fists into the table. The worst part was that he didn’t know what to do next. He’d spent so long demanding that he was alone...when he’d never actually been. But standing there, without John and without Felicity...he felt lonely for the first time since he’d met them. Truly alone. For the first time, he felt lost. And he had to fight the knot in his stomach telling him that something very bad was about to happen.

She opened her eyes to straps on her hands, her vision hazy. The only light in the dank smelling room came from a dim lamp in the corner. “Well hello there, Sleeping Beauty. You had quite a nap. Must have needed it after all that socializing you do with the Hood and his buddy. Don’t you know that you could do better than that? I know what a fighter you are, Felicity. You deserve someone who can keep up with you, someone who can challenge you.”

“Where am I?”

“It should have been me. You ran away. You ruined my life. And I only loved you so much more for that.”

“You tried to kill me!” Felicity yelled, yanking at the bands that restrained her. “You deserved everything I did to you and so much more. I should have made sure that you spent the rest of your life rotting in a jail cell.”

Machin smiled, “I love your passion for me.”

Felicity scoffed, “You’re sick.”

“That’s what they keep telling me!” He sang, “But I feel great. That’s the perk of being criminally insane; no jail cells, just psych wards.” He rolled his eyes, “Therapy, and medications, and doctors, and blah blah blah.”

Felicity glared at him, “Let me go.”

“I don’t like the blonde hair on you, Felicity. I preferred you in college. You had this...darkness about you. It drew me to you.” He shrugged, “Anyway, I expect your boyfriend will be looking for you, so let’s get to it.”

Machin stepped towards her and she flinched. Taking the hem of her shirt, he lifted it to her chest. He inhaled, closing his eyes before leaning in to examine her scars. “I’ve pictured this every night since we lost each other. I imagined most of it healed,” he glanced up at her, offering her a twisted smile, “But I knew I’d left some reminders of me.”

Felicity spat at his face.

Machin froze, and then he wiped the spit from his forehead and cheek. “Just as ruthless as ever, Felicity. Fearless! I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.” He looked back down at her scars. “Now,” he said, pulling out a knife from his back pocket. “Let’s make some new memories.”

“Lonnie...Lonnie, please,” Felicity said, shying away from him as much as she could. “I can help you. I can get you the help that you need.”

“Oh, no Felicity. Nothing can help me! They tried and they tried to fix me...to convince me that our love wasn’t real. But I never gave up on you. I’ve been dreaming about this for six years.” He toyed with the knife in his hands, “Now let me remind you why I was better to you than The Hood ever was. I feel sorry for him really. I was your first love! And you know what they say. You never forget your first love.”

Felicity took a deep breath. “He’ll find you. And when he does, you’ll be the one I feel sorry for.”

Lonnie pressed his knife against her stomach, drawing a new line, and Felicity screamed. It was shallow and long, a different pain than her previous scars, which were small, deep stabs. Sometimes when she really got herself worked up, she could still feel the pain of it, right where the scars still were. She glanced down at herself, seeing her blood dripping down her skin and staining her skirt. She felt her vision getting blurry, her head feeling light and she cried, trying to plead with him to stop.

He smiled at her, “I’ve missed that sound.”

Felicity tried to catch her breath.

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me that your boyfriend is going to kill me for this?” He asked, smug as he stared at the knife, covered in her blood.

Felicity narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain on her body. “No. I’m going to kill you myself, Lonnie.”

Machin stepped closer, staring into her eyes. She refused to look away, despite the countless nightmares that his cold, psychotic stare had caused. He held his finger up to her, “Pinky swear?”

Tags:

@sailorchibimoonunicorn @embroidered-fiction@seaolicity@smoak-me@dopecycleblaze @mrsd923@flailykermit @niki-is-amazing @alex-wesley@bandanab310@felicityqueenforever@smkkbert@myhauntedblacksoul@mrsbubblelee @nuksu@not-done-fighting @hopeful-warrior@pleasedontletmedownx@hear-the-banshee-screaming@siriuslyobsessedfangirl@coal000@alwaysmyownvoice@morganmaybaby@marniforolicity@elizasbodega@albinoturdqueen@olicityfluv@motoughismylife@velvetsteel@almondblossomme @hope-for-olicity@charlinert@geemarie@memcjo @olicityforeverqueen@ljanies@newyorkinlove@adiwriting @boo-ritz-radley@bytemegeekette@sarcastic1515 @sandycakes24 @tragically-irrelevant@glittercupcakedreams @standingontheedge-ofme@ymeanidem

#arrow #olicity #olicity fanfiction #prompts #olicity fic #oliver queen #felicity smoak #john diggle #lonnie machin #the places you have come to fear the most

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mafiabosstsuna · 7 years

Text

by @niumiu

Hibari, Yamamoto and Mukuro getting jealous when someone is hitting on their ex and now they want her back

Hibari

He knew that the decision he had taken before was the right one. He knew it.

The relationship between you both reached a point where he felt like he was being tied down. Marriage? That’s not what he wanted when he started dating you. Yes, Tsuna and the other talked about how, since you both were dating for years now, you should marry.

Nonsense. He decided that if that was what you thought too, then he should end the relationship. Unfortunately, your answer to this matter was that you agreed with them.

Hibari knew that the decision he took that day when he left you had been the right one. He knew it, but as much as he hated to admit, he regretted it now.

Seeing you radiant again, buying flowers from a flower shop, made him remember all the years that you two spent together, and all the months that he spent alone. Made him regret for once a decision that he had taken.

What was wrong with him?

He didn’t know and it really didn’t matter much. His priority was to take you away from the man that had approached you, said something to you and made you laugh. And you smiled at him. That smile was not meant for anyone but him.

Self-control? There’s no such thing.

He stalked all the way from across the street, to inside the flower shop that you were. He would not watch a man hit on you from a glass and go on with his day. He may have committed a mistake but he was not going to let that go on.

The bell of the door rang, making you and the man look at him.

“Hibari?” You asked with genuine shock.

“Come with me.” He said and wrapped a hand around your waist, dragging you away from that man.

You really didn’t know what that was about, or what your ex, who had clearly broken up with you was doing there. That shock kept you going with him, you were too accustomed to his touch, but just when you were near the door, you came to yourself.

“Wait, what are you doing?” You said pushing him away.

“Do you know him?” The man said meaning to go help you but stopped on his tracks under Hibari’s murderous glare.

“Yes, and I thought I wouldn’t be seeing him again.” You said throwing him a hurt look. “You were very clear when you said it was over.”

“I want you back.” He replied bluntly.

Damn, that took down all of the weak defenses that you had put up. Why was he always so direct like that?

“Oh… Well… Then… I-I have to think about that Hibari…” You said.

A smirk spread through his lips and he grunted in response. Damn, he knew how weak you were for him. That bastard.

“I will pick you at eight.” He said and then walked out of the door.

You stood reactionless, when it finally settled in what he had just done.

“Damn Hibari, you can’t just do that to me.” You muttered to yourself and hid your smile with one hand.

You couldn’t lie, you were happy that things turned out this way.

Yamamoto

Yamamoto could understand when you asked for some time. He could understand when you said, after said time, that you wanted to go. He could understand your reasons for breaking up with him, after all.

You said that he didn’t spend enough time with you. That you felt like being pushed aside by all his work.

He could understand you, but he knew that he could have done more. He could have prevented the break up. It was not like he couldn’t find that time for you that he wanted so much, but he thought that he wouldn’t miss you when you were gone. You had been dating just for a few months anyway.

Oh, boy, how he was so wrong.

Now that he saw you so beautiful, even in the dim light of that club, sitting by the bar counter and tapping your foot on the ground with the song’s rhythm, he saw how wrong he was.

It’s been what? A week since you broke up with him?

Just a week, and there wasn’t a single night that he didn’t think about you when he went to sleep.

He didn’t know how to approach you about it, though. Would you even be willing to give him another chance?

However, he didn’t have much time to think about it. A man had approached you and he could see from afar that he was trying to make small talk with you. You tried to be polite with him, but your body language was showing that you weren’t comfortable with the entire situation.

As the man failed at each second to take the hint that you weren’t interested, Yamamoto’s rage flared and decided to take the lead.

He walked from the corner where he was to you. You lifted your eyebrows in surprise when he put an arm protectively around your shoulders and pulled you slightly into his chest.

“[Name], is this man bothering you?” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were cold and focused on the man.

You didn’t know what your ex was doing at that club and you didn’t want to consider the possibility that he had been stalking you. Yamamoto wasn’t the kind of man who would do that.

However, you were grateful for his appearance, because the man that approached you was getting creepier by the minute. You knew your ex-boyfriend well enough to know that you had to mind your words, otherwise that man wouldn’t live to see another day.

“No, baby. He’s just making small talk.” You replied with a nervous smile. You were afraid that the man would try to say anything else, but seeing Yamamoto’s creepy smile he finally took the hint and left you alone.

With a sigh of relief, you pushed Yamamoto away slightly. It didn’t take you much effort to do it. He easily slid the arm out of your shoulders, but didn’t leave.

“Look, Yamamoto. I’m thankful for your coming, but that doesn’t change anything between us.” You said getting up from your bench, ready to leave.

“[Name].” He called and you had to look back. Why was he using that voice tone with you? He probably knew that you were weak for him. “I miss you.”

“I… Takeshi I took my decision. I’m not going back.” You tried to be firm but you felt your voice and willpower wavering.

“I know. I don’t want to go back.” He replied.

That took you by surprise. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to start again.” He said with his most powerful and heart melting smile. There goes your willpower.

“Will you, at least, give me the time that I asked for?” You asked.

Yamamoto took your hand in his both and looked right in your eyes. “I will give you everything that I can. I promise.”

Mukuro

You both broke up on good terms. Not what you wanted, but you couldn’t really disagree. Mukuro was that obsessed with your safety. He thought that it was better for you not to be with someone like him.

That was what he was thinking about when he saw you enter the ball so radiant on your dress. You both agreed to go on your own ways, he thought as he sipped on his wine. You both agreed, he thought, and his grip on his glass tightened when a man approached you.

It was a peaceful agreement between you both, and he didn’t regret the decision, but could you at least not laugh that way at the man’s words? Could you at least not have that glint on your eyes that told him that you were delighted with the attention? Could you at least not slap the man’s arm playfully?

Oh, you could, but you wouldn’t. He noticed that when you threw a glance and a teasing smirk at him. So you had perceived his presence there at all.

He smirked back at you. He didn’t regret his decision. Not at all.

The music started playing and the man clearly asked you a dance. Your smile widened and you looked at Mukuro when you took the man’s hand. Someone made a comment about Mukuro’s glass being about to break with the strength that he was holding it, but his brain didn’t quite process.

His eyes were focused on you, and solely on you.

You spun around the dance floor, guided by the man. Appearing and disappearing behind the couples, your dress flowing around your knees. A cut on the side of the skirt showing your thigh in a rather provocative manner, made him remember the times where he had seen more than just your bare thigh.

Fuck, he regretted making that decision.

He shoved the glass on someone’s hands and stalked to you and your partner. The man’s face was getting dangerously close to yours.

“Kufufu, would you mind if I borrowed your partner for a while?” He asked putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and stopping you both. The man recognized him quickly, nodded and just released you, making his way out of the dance floor quite in a hurry.

“I don’t think I’ve agreed to dance with you.” You said putting a hand on your hip.

“Would you give me the honor of this dance, [Name]? For the sake of the old times?” He asked extending a hand and waiting with a smile.

“Well, there’s a reason they’re called ‘old times’. If I remember correctly, you said that it was over.” You replied but took his hand anyway.

“If you agree,” He said starting to spin you around. “We could make the old times return.”

“Oh, so you regret your decision?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Besides, you still like me.” He replied ignoring your question.

“Do I, Now?” You said with a chuckle.

“Yes, and I can convince you of that.” He said tentatively.

You didn’t know what he was planning, but you didn’t really accept to be left behind by him and you wanted to see how he was going to convince you.

“Very well, convince me then-”

You didn’t quite finish talking when he pulled you into a searing kiss that sent a wave of warmth through your body. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really missed your ex-boyfriend’s kisses.

When he let you go, you had to find your air again between pants and gasps, but you weren’t ready to give up now.

“I might need some more convincing.” You said.

He chuckled. “I have the entire night for that, my dear.”

#niumiu #mukuro #yamamoto #hibari #submission

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vestedbeauty · 4 years

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Did I Just Buy the Best Desk Chair Ever? Or Did I Waste My Money? ALL33 Review

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Did I Just Buy the Best Desk Chair Ever? Or Did I Waste My Money? ALL33 Review

I Paid a Small Fortune for What May Be My Best Desk Chair Ever. Here’s How I Like It.

If they ever make a documentary about me stalking my new ALL33 desk chair, I hope they get Sir David Attenborough to do the narration.

NARRATOR: Tonight, on NOVA: As daylight breaks, we catch our first glimpse of her. Massive mug full of coffee, see her approach her perch. There she will spend the next eight to ten hours, leaving only to move laundry, feed chickens, or sweep dog hair from the hallway. When she does stir, if we watch closely, we will see her rub the tension from her lower back and roll her shoulders to ease soreness and try to reestablish blood circulation. Enter the hidden world of a writer with a bad chair.

[music]

NARRATOR: Our writer friend has stumbled onto an advertisement for a chair that looks only slightly similar to those she has seen before. See as her eyebrow sinks into concave formation as she clicks the link to learn more? This is… her concentration face.

Now, if we watch carefully, cautious not to spook her, we can see her reading the details about this chair. Ahh, there it is. Did you catch her lip curling up with the hint of a smile? It only lasted a moment before her eyebrows shifted into an elevated convex shape, shooting halfway up her forehead.

Clearly, she saw the price.

[music]

Major funding for this blog post comes from the Day Job Foundation, a regular contributor to the writer’s care and upkeep.

This program is also funded, in part, by her own writing firm, which has a long history of feeding her and her brood.

And by readers like you, who, should they purchase anything through any affiliate links on this website, will send a few bucks her way - at no additional cost to you, by the way.

Why On Earth Spend So Much on an Office Chair?

When I first started seeing ads for the ALL33 chair, the company was doing some crowdfunding. So, there was a video, a bunch of info, and the opportunity to buy at a discount - assuming they hit their funding goal. The ad, if I remember right, proclaimed that this was a chair like no other. Completely redesigned to correct for bad posture, and built to cradle your backside for “active” sitting, it definitely looked different. But even then, the price seemed steep (guessing it was like $350?).

So, I shelved the idea and went back to work in the worn-out roller chair I’d gotten from Amazon a few years ago. It was black. It had wheels. Nothing distinguishing at all - unless you count the fact that the arm pads had started disintegrating.

Prior to the most boring office chair in the world, I’d experimented with an exercise ball. It gave me happy flashbacks to playing on a Hippity-Hop. (What color was yours? I remember having a red one.) The issue with that was the level of concentration needed to stay ON the exercise ball. It wasn’t like doing brain surgery, but it did require more attention than I’d like to invest in merely avoiding falling on my butt in the middle of a Zoom call.

How Well Do You Think on Your Feet?

“She who sits most dies first.” That warning hit home when I first heard it. Even though I make the effort to get up and move around during the day, it’s not enough. As a writer, I work best when I enter a flow state of deep concentration.

Picky. That’s probably the best descriptor for me while I arrange my environment. If you’re less charitable, you might call me obsessive instead. That’s okay. In my experience, when I can get into this sublime state of pure flow, the words just drop from heaven into my mind, resting there only long enough for me to tap them into the keyboard. The writing is fast. It’s pure. It’s more aligned with whatever message a piece is meant to convey. The alternative scenario involves something like wrassling. You know, like some crazy guy rolling around in the mud with an alligator, hoping for the best.

My ability to manage my environment is a huge determinant of productivity in my writing day. Every sensory input matters. Not too hot or too cold. Not too bright or dark. Either silence or the right kind of music (typically no lyrics - although I’ve found the trip hop genre to be amazingly conducive to flow).

But getting into the flow state has a dark side, one involving my backside. If I can get into the groove, it’s nothing for me to write for hours on end. Well, at least until someone walks into the space - or if a dog nudges me for pets.

So it made sense for me to try a standing desk. As a teen, I worked at a bakery, spending the whole shift on my feet. But while I can walk for miles without a complaint, standing in one spot has never been comfortable for me.

I was skeptical from Day One. So, my sweet hubby set me up with a workspace on the high counter in our kitchen as a test. If I liked it, it would make sense to buy a legit standup desk.

That was a hard “no.” Not only was it hard for me to get into any sort of creative flow, but my back, legs, and feet hurt. Productivity plummeted because I kept walking around instead of focusing on my work.

The Treadmill Desk

The standing desk debacle gave me an idea, though. If walking worked better than standing, maybe I could work on a treadmill at the gym. All I’d need is a desk surface that stretched between the arms of the treadmill. Sweet hubby had just the answer. He made me a lightweight but sturdy aluminum desk.

It looked like a guillotine. There were lots of questions. I felt a little weird. But once I set it up and set the treadmill to a pace of about 2 mph, I could work and walk at the same time. Sort of.

Actual writing was tough. It was hard to enter the flow state while also trying not to fall off the treadmill and break myself. I could do planning, project management, and invoicing. But it wasn’t ideal.

So, Back to the ALL33 Chair

I’d back burnered the hunt for a better office chair, and that’s when I started getting ads for this crazy contraption again. The list price is $800.

All I could think about was the “Will & Grace” episode where they run all over Manhattan chasing down a Herman Miller Aeron chair. (By the way, the only episode I ever saw.) Who pays that kind of money for an office chair? It just seemed extravagant and pretentious.

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But I had a bit of an internal debate. Then an awakening. That led to a transformation… and a purchase.

Good old blue chair... you've been a faithful friend.

Once You Go Mac...

Several years back, I switched from PC to Mac. I’d been replacing my PC laptops every couple of years. They’d get full - or full of malware. It was annoying. Plus, they were heavy, which kind of put the kibosh on the idea of “working from anywhere.” Macbook Pros ran about $1200 for a base model, easily three times more costly than the PC laptops I bought. But boy, was it worth it. The transition was easy. All my tech works together, making transferring from iphone to ipad to laptop a breeze.

Soon, the idea of getting an iMac desktop seemed like a good idea. A decade into my writing business, I finally had an office and a desk rather than working from the blue La-Z-Boy I’d commandeered back in 2005. (It’s seen much, much better days - but nobody’s got the heart to put it out by the curb.)

This upgrade set a precedent. As a work tool, it made perfect sense to get the best I could afford. The increase in productivity meant the computers more than paid for themselves in the first year.

Surely, the same would hold true for a good desk chair.

Still Practicing an Abundance Mindset

Throughout my early adult life, we were broke. I was married to a pastor who only hit his earnings stride a couple of years before we divorced. We’d scraped by until I started my writing business, which loosened our budget a little. But there were years when he was trying to launch a new venture and not making more than a hundred bucks a week or so. There were years we qualified for free school lunches. There was also a bankruptcy due to my failed go at real estate investing. After leaving my first marriage, things got even tighter. The IRS was also a constant companion, thanks to the turnaround year we’d had in 2011. (It took me nearly eight years to pay that tax bill, but I finally did it!)

Scraping by was the norm. I got pretty good at it, too.

But I knew better. There is no fixed amount of pie out there in the world. It’s not a zero-sum game where if I have a slice, that means someone goes without. Instead, for every slice I take, I can create a whole new pie to share with others. (Shoutout to T. Harv Eker whose book nudged a radical transformation in my mindset here.)

Investing in the best tools I could afford meant investing in my productivity. Could it be that my own health is one of the most crucial tools of all?

Life Or Death? Do I REALLY Need the Best Desk Chair?

I’d recently spent time with some folks experiencing significant mobility issues due to age and poor self-care. Watching them struggle to move well was hard. All I’d really seen was my parents, who are super-active and completely mobile. My dad, at 76, still goes to the gym about five days a week. He can do so many unassisted pull ups that he sometimes draws a crowd. THAT is the kind of mobility I want to enjoy until they put me in the ground.

This chair was more than a frivolous splurge. Mobility and self-care was more than a weak justification for overspending. If this ALL33 chair was all it was cracked up to be, it could be one of the best purchases ever.

So, I Did It

They’ve got a guarantee, which is such a smart marketing tactic. Knowing that either I’d love this chair or be able to send it back for a full refund made it a lot less risky.

They also had a little sale going on when I bought. (If I’d known someone who had one, I could have used their link to get a discount, too. Now I have a link like that - and you can use it to get $75 off if you want one.)

Shipping is included, so that’s good because it’s a pretty big box.

I came home from a work trip and saw the box out at the curb. That meant one thing: My sweet hubby had assembled it for me!

Here’s the Scoop (and the scoop is the seat!)

It looks great. Just a little different from a standard office chair, if you don’t look closely. But when you do look closer, you see that the sitting surface is different. It reminds me of a saddle. It articulates, shifting to support you no matter how you sit. The lumbar support is practically angelic. The back allows for rocking or just tipping backward. The arms fold up so you can scoot into your work surface without obstruction. The wheels are as smooth as a good Target cart. I got the cloth version instead of the leather or faux leather - mostly because I like my butt to stay where I plant it rather than sliding, which seems to be a thing with leather seats.

Initial Impressions

The first few days of working in the chair were blissful. I felt zero fatigue from sitting. For some reason, I also felt so much more energized that I got up more often to putter. Nice.

The next few days felt a little sore. Kind of like when you go to the gym after a hiatus. Even if you take it easy, your muscles gripe about having to work. That’s how it was. Mostly it was my tailbone and mid back complaining. They stopped kvetching within a day or two, accepting that this was the new normal for sitting.

Now, I Don’t Want to Leave Home… Ever!

I’m a homebody anyway. First, of course, there’s the fact that my sweet hubby is there! Also, got to acknowledge the dogs and other animals. This is my home.

The daily routines I’ve created are so soothing and energizing for me. The environment is just what I want. Days just flow as I do work I love and spend my non-working hours with my mate.

And that chair? I actually miss it when I’m working away from home. After all, it is by far the best desk chair my butt has ever sat upon.

Want to Try this Chair for Yourself? Here's a Promo Code for $50 Off ALL33 Chairs

If you have to sit, why not do it in a chair that will help you sit better, move better, stand better, and feel better? Use my special code VESTEDBEAUTY50 for an extra $50 off the chair you deserve!

#ALL33 desk chair #best desk chair

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