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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years ago

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2 A.M.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

PROMPTS: 48. I called you at 2am because I need you. 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

Requested by @wonderlandmind4

So, I’m not going to include #1, because I already did that prompt in another story.

The Avengers are at the Tower for plot reasons. And just because I wanted it that way. Deal with it LOL.

Bucky rubbed his eyes awake as FRIDAY announced that he was receiving an incoming phone call. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and it read 2AM.

“Accept,” he muttered huskily to the AI.

“Wait, FRIDAY, no, no, no!” The call immediately came in.

“Hello?” Bucky asked with confusion.

He expected it to be Steve, who was on a mission with the entire team. It left Bucky as the sole “superhero” left in the tower. But he didn’t see himself as such. Bucky was crashing at the high-rise because he really had no place else to go. And he knew Steve would be disappointed if Bucky didn’t take him up on the offer.

“Bucky, hi.” A female voice said.

He squinted and then put it together. “Y/N, is that you?”

Y/N was Happy’s niece. Tony and Pepper were basically her aunt and uncle without being related. She lived in the city, and therefore was around the tower a lot. Pepper was constantly inviting her over for dinner. Sometimes she’d do her laundry there. If Tony ever had a party, she was invited. The rest of the team had befriended her.

But Bucky...Bucky kept his distance – just like he kept his distance from basically everyone.

However, that didn’t mean he didn’t take notice of Y/N.

It was ridiculous how long it took him to realize that his eyes seemed to always be searching for her when she was around. He watched her at parties, always dressed in a fancy dress with her makeup a little heavier than usual. He would steal glances at her when she was in the gym. Apparently she didn’t want to pay for one herself, but there wasn’t a gym nicer than the one at the tower.

But just because Bucky noticed Y/N didn’t mean he talked to her.

Bucky thought the world hated him. Once all of Hydra and SHIELD’s secrets were leaked, everyone knew exactly what he had done.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t someone people wanted to be friends with.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to call you. No, I told FRIDAY not to call you,” she was talking really quickly – obviously, stressed – and yet quietly, like she was scared someone might hear her.

Bucky sat up straighter, fully awake and now on alert. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, not really. I’m sure it’s fine. I’m probably being crazy,” her words were coming out faster and faster.

“Y/N, take a breath,” Bucky demanded.

She must’ve done as she was told because there was 5 seconds of silence.

“What’s going on?” He asked then.

“It might just be the storm…” Bucky looked outside his window at the lightning and heavy downpour. “But I swore I heard someone trying to get into my apartment. There’ve been two robberies in my building the last 2 months.”

Bucky already knew about that. He overheard Y/N telling Pepper, Tony, and Happy about it in the kitchen. She seemed pretty shaken up about it. One of her neighbors had to go to the hospital because the robbers timed it wrong and ended attacking the poor man in a panic.

Tony and Happy weren’t happy about Y/N living in what appeared to be an unsafe building. They both tried to convince her to move into the tower. When she refused, pointing out how ridiculous the idea was, Tony told her he’d just buy her a place that had a doorman and high-level security. Y/N refused that too.

It was the first time Bucky had ever agreed with anything Tony said.

“Can you hear anything now?” Bucky asked, taking Y/N’s concerns and fear very seriously.

“No. It’s hard to hear anything with the rain and thunder outside,” Y/N whispered.

Then she sighed.

“Listen, Bucky, I’m really sorry for waking you up. Pepper and Happy are in Germany for a Stark meeting. I was just trying to reach Tony…”

“Everyone’s out on an assignment right now,” Bucky explained. “I’m the only one here.”

“Oh…” Y/N said lamely.

Bucky could tell she did really feel bad, and was growing more and more embarrassed. “And you don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m just being a total spaz right now and–“ She stopped abruptly.

“Y/N?”

“I definitely just heard something,” she whispered as quietly as possible.

“Y/N, I need you to give me your address,” Bucky instructed calmly.

There was no answer.

“Y/N,” his tone more gentle this time, “you gotta give me your address.”

He was already moving around his room, grabbing necessary clothing. He moved with purpose, not even thinking about what he needed to grab.

Bucky listened as Y/N rattled off her address and apartment number.

He was grateful that her apartment was only a 10 minute drive from the tower.

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me,” Bucky sounded like he did was he was on comms during a mission. Not that he’d done that recently.

“O-Okay,” Y/N stuttered in a whisper.

For a second, Bucky thought maybe he should talk to her, try to keep her calm, or make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. He’d be there soon.

But it was obvious that she was staying quiet so she could listen to any possible intruder.

Just when Bucky was two blocks away from her place, the line went dead.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

He slammed his breaks just outsider her building, not bothering to turn off the car or try to park it.

Bucky would’ve shoved his way through the front door of the building with his metal arm and shoulder, but the lock had already been broken.

Now Bucky was more concerned.

He was quick and stealth as he went up the stairs to Y/N’s floor. He pulled out the gun from the back of his waistband.

With one floor left to go, Bucky suddenly heard footsteps running on the floor above him – Y/N’s floor. The footsteps were running toward the opposite side of the building that Bucky was on. Which meant they probably knew someone was on their way up and they were escaping through the emergency stairs on the other side.

For a moment, Bucky considered running after them. He knew he could catch them. They didn’t stand a chance.

But Y/N was now at the forefront of his mind.

He quickly made it to her apartment.

The door was closed, but he could tell from the scratches on the lock and handle that someone had been trying to break their way in discreetly.

Bucky took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Y/N? It’s Bucky. Can you let me in?”

There was no answer. He waited a few minutes and listened for any movements from inside the apartment.

Nothing.

“Doll… I’m coming in, alright?”

With a quick twist of his metal hand on the doorknob, he was able to crush it to pieces. It should’ve been harder to do, but the building was clearly as old as Bucky and not kept up to code.

Bucky promptly put his gun back in his waistband, not wanting to alarm Y/N with just the mere sight of a firearm.

“Y/N?” He called out to the empty apartment. “It’s just me.”

But he knew where she would be. It was the most common place for people to hide in case of an emergency.

Bucky made his steps quiet, but noticeable, so Y/N knew exactly where he was in the apartment.

He made his way to her bedroom and stopped in front of her closet.

He knew that she knew he was there. He could hear her soft breathing that was still anxious and terrified.

Ever so carefully, he opened her closet door.

Inside Y/N was tucked in the corner, knees to her chest, with a kitchen knife in one hand and her dead cellphone in the other.

Bucky looked at her with only sympathy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt as scared as Y/N looked. Fear had been beaten out of him long ago.

He kneeled down, his forearms balancing on his knees.

“Mind if I come in?” He asked casually.

She shrugged.

Somehow the giant super soldier managed to fit into the closet, making it feel even smaller than it already did.

“For the record… you aren’t crazy. There was definitely someone trying to get into your apartment.” Then he took in a deep breath, realizing he probably wasn’t making her feel any safer. “But they’re long gone.”

When he glanced down at Y/N, she just nodded in acknowledgment.

Bucky wished he was better with words. He used to be. Words used to be his specialty. But he’d isolated himself from everyone. Before that, he was a brainwashed assassin without a mind of its own. Bucky was out of practice.

Bucky slowed reached over to the hand closest to him, the one holding the knife. Gently, he took it out of her grasp and placed it far enough away from them that it wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.

Then he took her hand in his, gripping in tight enough to show her comfort. His thumb brushed back and forth over the back of her hand.

She squeezed in return, silently thanking him.

The closet was quiet, only filled with Y/N’s shaky breathing.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Bucky finally breathed.

The words surprised him. He had no idea where they’d come from.

But they seemed to finally calm Y/N down.

“Why don’t you pack a few things, so you can stay at the tower for a few days?”

He half expected her to be stubborn and say she was fine, that he’d have to put up a fight to get her to go back home with him.

But Y/N just nodded numbly.

He nodded back and got up first so he could help her back onto her feet.

When he started to leave her bedroom to give her some privacy, she jumped forward.

“W-Where are you going?”

Bucky quickly turned around. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to be in the living room. I’m calling the police. Between your door and building’s front door, there’s enough evidence to prove that someone was trying to rob the building again.”

Y/N blinked at the him saying “again,” proving that he knew this had happened in her building recently.

She didn’t think Bucky ever paid her any attention. She was never offended by it. But he had just proved that he knew paid closer attention to her than she could’ve ever realized.

20 minutes later, there was a knock at Y/N’s front door.

Bucky quickly answered to find two cops standing outside.

He answered all their questions, hoping he did a good enough job that they wouldn’t really need to talk to Y/N all that much.

“You live here?” One of them finally asked, realizing that his name wasn’t on the lease.

“No,” Bucky answered.

“It’s your girlfriend’s place?” They followed up.

“Uhhh…no. No, Y/N’s just a friend.” He felt awkward as he answered, but the cops didn’t seemed fazed by it.

Y/N finally came out of her room with a duffle bag.

The cops started asking her questions. Bucky stood guard, making sure they didn’t push her too hard or ask things the wrong way.

After seeing how shook up she was, he felt like he’d instantly turned into her personal body guard.

“Your landlord already called a locksmith to fix your door. He should be here in a few minutes. But you should take any valuables with you just to be safe.”

Y/N nodded.

When the cops turned to talk amongst each other and with the landlord, Y/N turned to Bucky.

“Can we go now?” She asked him meekly.

It was the first time she’d talked directly to him since he got there.

“Yeah, doll, we can go.” He ushered her out and, on instinct alone, put himself between her and the cops as they walked out.

Y/N was quiet on the drive back to the Tower.

Bucky had already texted Happy and Tony about what had happened. He assumed the whole team would know soon enough.

When they were in the lobby of the residential floor, Bucky shifted his weight awkwardly. He didn’t want to leave her yet.

This was the first time they’d ever been alone together and Bucky didn’t think he could go back to keeping his distance again.

“Uhh…Do you want me to show you where the guest suites are?” He asked as he scratched the back of his neck. But he knew that she knew.

She gave him a small, forced smirk. “No, I know where they are.”

He nodded.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to just stay up and watch a movie or something? I don’t–I don’t think I can go to sleep any time soon?”

“Of course. I mean, yeah.” Bucky responded immediately.

“Let me just change into some sweats I packed. I’ll meet you in the TV room?”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined him on the couch.

She asked him what he wanted to watch.

“Umm…I don’t-there aren’t a lot of movies that I’ve seen,” Bucky finally told her when she kept trying to figure out what he’d like. “Haven’t really tried to catch up on the whole pop culture thing like Steve has.”

“Oh…” Y/N muttered, realizing the mistake she made.

“Put on whatever you want. Really. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Y/N clicked a few buttons and a quirky song started playing along with someone writing in a notebook.

“Almost Famous,” Y/N explained. “It’s one of my favorites. Always puts me in a good mood, no matter how terrible I feel. And this way, you’ll be able to get a crash course on the best bands ever.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that.

The opening credits weren’t even over before Bucky felt Y/N looking over at him.

He turned to her.

“Thank you for…saving me tonight,” she told him slowly.

Her words were sincere, her eyes even more so.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

“Figured you’d say that.” Then she seemed to be trying to work up the courage to say something else. “I’m…umm…I’m glad it was you.”

Bucky blinked at her small confession.

“Me too,” he finally agreed.

And then they both turned their attention back to the movie.

Halfway through, Bucky felt a weight fall onto his shoulder.

Y/N had fallen asleep, her body choosing Bucky as its pillow.

A soft and shy grin grew on his lips from the feeling and the sight of it.

Very carefully, he maneuvered her body so he could lift his arm around her and make it less uncomfortable for her.

She didn’t wake from the movement, only sighed and shifted a bit.

It wasn’t long after that Bucky fell asleep too.

——————————————

“Sam, I told you to leave ‘em alone,” Steve called out in a hushed tone.

“Not until I document this…”

Then Bucky felt the flash of a camera. His eyes snapped open to find Sam looking guilty with his phone pointed at Bucky and Y/N, who was still fast asleep.

“You have two seconds to get that phone out of my face,” Bucky warned in a growl.

He would’ve jumped up and snatched it himself, but he didn’t want to risk waking Y/N.

Sam winced and instantly fled.

Bucky glanced over at Steve, who gave him an apologetic look.

“Tony told us what happened. She OK?” He whispered.

Bucky shrugged. “She’s a little shaken, but I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well…at least you finally talked to her. Though I wish it didn’t have to be a break-in for it to happen.”

Bucky played the ignorant card. “What do you mean?”

Steve narrowed his eyes as if to say, ‘Don’t even try.’ “Bucky, give me some credit. I’m your best friend. No matter how discrete you are, I know when you have a crush.”

Bucky blushed and the looked down at Y/N.

What neither of the super soldiers knew was that Y/N heard Steve’s confession too. And she wasn’t about to let Bucky go back to ignoring her.

----------------------------

This request was put in ages ago. I’m trying to clean out my inbox. I have so many requests that are collecting dust.

THIS DOES NOT MEAN MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN. THEY ARE NOT.

Please don’t request things. And please don’t immediately request a second part to this. There is no second part.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #prompt request #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #marvel fic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel reader insert #protective!bucky #protective!bucky barnes

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

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We can ask you anything? Niiiicccce 😊 In that case I would like to ask if you have a little snippet of your Southern Discomfort Story for us 😁 Only if you have one and if you want to share it. Thank you!!! ❤️

I would love nothing more, Anon ❤

The chapter still isn't finished, or beta'd, so please forgive all spelling/grammar mistakes, but I made it a long one for you.

(CW: language, mentioned minor character death, murder, prejudice of religion/witchcraft)

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Daryl Dixon

Status: On-going AU

Word count of snippet: 1,405

Southern Discomfort: Possessed

Chapter 17:

(Working titles:

The House that Built Me

Arsonist’s Lullaby)

There was no sign of Daryl outside the trailer. Rick broke out into the midday sunshine and spun in all directions looking for the familiar head of dusty brown hair.

“DARYL!” he hollered loud, the sound carrying over the side of the cliff and bouncing about the quarry. There was no way the redneck hadn’t heard him, but he didn’t emerge and Rick’s nerves seized in a kind of panic he hadn’t felt in a while. Hopelessness and uncertainty crept over his skin hotly, smothering to the point it was difficult to breathe. Calm the fuck down Grimes, think: where would he go? What was he looking for? What direction is it from here?

“He left the truck,” Dale said behind him, leaning out the open door of the RV, and also scanning the trees for anything that might resemble the young Dixon. “You got the keys?”

“No,” Rick rasped, checking his pockets on reflex as he said it. But he knew Daryl had driven, had stuffed the keys in his back pocket like he always did. Merle would kill him if he left them in the visor, begging to be lifted by a tweaking drifter or some stupid local kid.

If Daryl didn’t take the car, he’d gone through the woods. Where was he headed?

“What’s the closest road, cutting through the swamp?” Rick asked, chucking his backpack in the bed of the truck and scrubbing at his face to wake himself up. Fucking focus, Grimes.

“There’s the main tractor road just South of us,” Dale told him, stepping out onto the gravel and walking up to the panicked deputy. “It cuts right to the backwoods turn-off-”

“-by the entrance to the Greene farm, I know where he’s going,” Rick said in a rush, turned and ran for the swamp. Pushing past the barrier of humidity and entangled branches, and slipping in between the trees with an urgency that wrapped around his chest like vines. His footfalls found the rhythm that used to run through his blood, thundered against the ground in time with his racing heart, panted breath steady but quick and pushing him further faster. Farther. Deeper into the wilderness as wet and hot as he ever remembered from his childhood. Damp and clinging to his skin and clothes, seeping into him and trying to all-encompass the man who had escaped it for six solid years.

Every inch of the swamp looked the same, flying by him as he tried to gain as much ground as possible in the direction he hoped would lead him straight to the turn-off road. Once he did, he could make it back in less than 20 minutes if he kept running. Or - if he kept going the same way Daryl did, as the crow flies and through the dense forest - he could make it in 10.

Breaking out of the treeline on to the tractor road was like jumping into a river, cold and chasing breath from his lungs, but Rick didn’t stop his momentum. Crashing back into the woods on the other side of the road, and picking back up the pace he didn’t dare to abandon. He hadn’t been checking for signs that Daryl was going the same way. Even after all the weeks and months of tracking lessons from years ago, where Rick spent more time looking at Daryl than the ground, Rick knew he wouldn’t be able to pick up any trace with his head still spinning like it was. Reeling from what they heard, from Daryl’s outburst, and from his quiet crumble into whatever trance had captured him back in Dale Horvath’s RV.

Everything was so fucked up, Rick hadn’t in his wildest dreams even come close to guessing the truth.

Dale hadn’t wanted to say everything outright, shame and guilt of his failure turning his words into sparse descriptions. He’d focused on the parts that were important to him: the case driving him into the ground, his wife’s cancer, how he couldn’t get anyone to talk to him about what happened. That everyone knew, and no one would speak of the events leading up to the fire. But Rick was putting the facts in neat rows, and plucked out the important parts to them - to him and Daryl. Even as he ran like his life depended on it.

Daryl’s mother used to do what Daryl did now, but for the whole town. The good people of White Oak, honest-to-goodness Christians that they were, would never admit they had something like Trisha Dixon at their beck and call. To fix their problems, bless them with some supernatural amount of good luck, or who fucking knew what else - but as soon as the fires destroyed half the town in 1979, they turned on her.

Rick didn’t understand that part. The older man had said that the fires continued in 1980 and no one knew why, unnatural fires that didn’t start because of a draught or a lightning storm. That was why they turned their backs on her, the superstitious pricks probably thought that it was God trying to punish them for accepting a heathen pagan. But it couldn’t be just that.

Would they really go that far? After the church burned, would that have been the final straw? Rick could see a vast majority of the picture now, the horrifying truth of what was dragging this godforsaken town down into the depths of hell, but there were still pieces missing.

What would convince a whole town of God-fearing people to burn a woman in her own home?

Like it’s the damn Dark Ages. What did they think they would accomplish? That’s what Dale had said, and Rick felt cold fear trickle down his neck. This wasn’t the 1800’s, they couldn’t just ‘burn the witch’.

Good God, that’s exactly what they did.

Rick was going to throw up. He stumbled into a tree, hitting it hard and bracing himself as his heart hammered right up into his throat and he retched - bent over and trying to breathe. Fuck, he couldn’t stop, he had to keep moving. He couldn’t lose Daryl. Rick pushed himself off the moss covered trunk, put one foot in front of the other laboriously, and continued until his rhythm found itself once more.

He had to get to Daryl, he had to get him to pause and fucking talk to him! Neither of them could do this alone, and Rick would fight tooth and nail before he let Daryl push him out again. Rick couldn’t even figure out what their next move should be, not until he knew where Daryl’s head was at. What he was focusing on in all this. Rick had his facts, but Daryl had a decade worth of lies and betrayals to sift through, and a dead mother who hadn’t died by her own hand - shit, that’s what everyone had been telling him for years. He had always said his mother burned down their house, fell asleep in bed with a lit cigarette, that she liked her wine a little too much.

Those aren’t the words of a 7-year-old boy.

That was what a grown up would say, to explain an accident that wasn’t an accident. The whole town knew. That meant all of them were guilty. No one had told Daryl what happened even as an adult. They had ostracized him his entire life, and it wasn’t just because of the bullshit prejudice that ran like a vein through the whole county. Rick bet they all couldn’t even bare to look at Daryl Dixon as a child, knowing what they did.

His whole life, Daryl had thought everyone hated him on principle. For being a Dixon. For being white trash. For who his father was and who he was supposed to turn into. But it hadn’t been that, not entirely. They had all lied to him, everyone in town, the teachers at school, his neighbors, his Pa, his brother- Merle.

“Fuck,” Rick cursed out loud and began to run again. He’d cut right past the turn-off road and was still in the swamp, the trees all looking the same until they didn’t. He knew this corner of the woods like the back of his hand. “DARYL!” he shouted, the sound barely passing the few trees around him, muffled by foliage and damp. Then he saw movement ahead, and hope quickened his pace.

“Daryl, slow down!”

#ask #Southern Discomfort #my TWD fanfic WIP #I do still plan on finishing it I s2g #I have so much more plotted out for this I don't think I'd forgive myself if I just left it there #hopefully it'll be worth the wait #and hopefully I formatted this shit right #I'm old #Rickyl #twd fanfiction

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capsized-heart · 6 years ago

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Warbirds

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Summary: Ships and planes and weapons of war named after women and dubbed she, her. Powerful, deadly. Yet, the real thing, the real body is demeaned and made less than man. When you and Carol are up in the sky and screaming through the air in your metal birds, they will see just how fragile you are.

Following Carol and Reader throughout their training in the Air Force.

Word count: 4.6k+

Warnings: smut, mild violence

A/N: It feels so good to post again! I’m so sorry I haven’t written anything in a bit, my finals this semester have been c r a z y, I’ve written 20 pages worth of papers and I still have one more left before I’m fully on winter break :’) but almost there!

I’ve had this idea for a while and....I honestly had too much fun with this. I did a lot of research and watched some documentaries on what trainees experience through basic training and I find military uniforms more attractive than I should so I didn’t hold back on this one.

Please enjoy my girl Carol!!!

“Wake up! Wake up! Open that day room door! Lights on! PT uniform of the day, PT shorts and shirt!”

The piercing voice of Dorm Chief Williams shatters the air. Fluorescent white blinds you, pulse thundering as you’re jerked from sleep, kicking off your covers. Your muscles scream, vision blurred and swimming and you stagger to your feet.

Cadets around you are already making their beds and changing into their gear. You reach for your own combat uniform, pull on the deep navy tracksuit with the reflective insignia of the U.S. Air Force glowing over your left breast.

You turn and see your bunkmate starting to stir. You feel your heart hammer in your throat and push at her shoulder.

“Carol. Get up. Hey, let’s go, Warbird.”

Williams, a tall and intimidating woman personifying dread itself, marches over to your bunk.

“Danvers, am I keeping you from your beauty sleep?” Williams barks with the most intensity you’ve ever heard from her at 0600. “Should I call the canteen and have them bring you breakfast since you’re so busy slowing down my whole squadron?”

Carol jolts to attention. “No, ma’am!”

“Then get the hell away from me and into gear. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Williams scowls, watching Carol fly to her post to dress before she turns on her heel and makes her rounds through the rest of the dorm. Finished with your own tasks, you help with Carol’s bed, smooth out her uniform, secure her hair in a tight bun. She gives you a tired smile.

“Fall out!” Williams calls.

You’re out the door in a minute flat. The short, sharp blasts of Reveille drive motion around you as you fall in line with the male recruits.

The morning is brisk, stimulating, turning your breath into puffs of steam as sweeps of indigo crack open the sky like the pearly, iridescent insides of seashells. It’s pretty, the color reminding you of waves and ocean.

Maybe you should have joined the Navy instead, Carol would say, a quick quip about how you would make such a charming sailor girl bobbing away on a ship. She always likes to tease you for your love of beautiful, superficial things.

From the moment you shed your civilian status, the Academy taught you to appreciate the little things in life; the glow of morning that tints the clouds with amber and cream as you watch the world from your cockpit. Chirping birdsong, a sort of secret you like to think that exists only between birds and Airmen, the few humans capable of sharing the sky.

You loathe how much Carol affects you, since day zero, the very start of BMT. How you can hear her voice in your mind this goddamn early.

Your MTI picks up a cadence and you match your step to the young men and women beside you, your wingmen. You feel unity, harmony beating through your bloodstream as you jog in time with your sergeant’s calls, the crisp air making you feel well rested and energized despite getting your usual four hours of sleep.

Moments like these that give you purpose, the indescribable excitement of being a part of something bigger than yourself. Of belonging.

“Lookin’ good and feelin’ good! Who are we?” Your drill instructor booms.

“USAF! Aim high! Fly, fight, win!” The squadron sounds off in unison.

You’re three weeks into BMT. Twenty-one days of primal shock, verbal abuse, blood, sweat, tears. Four weeks, twenty-eight more days until you graduate from the ranks of cadet, four weeks until your MTI awards you your dog tags and the title of Airman. The start of your career as a fighter pilot.

But until then, you’ll have to survive the next twenty-eight days.

You’ve learned more about yourself in these three weeks than you have in your entire life, your mind and body hardened with discipline. Broken down psychologically and physically and molded into the young woman your squadron needs you to be.

You and Carol are reminded of your womanhood every day. You and the others have to push yourselves harder, faster just to prove you can keep up. O’Neill, a petite little firecracker of a girl and fresh out of school, had gotten her period last week. You’d watched her wretch up bile after morning drill, the exertion and stress and cramps too much for her body to handle. The MTI had screamed at her, blue in the face, ordered her to drop on her stomach right there and crank fifteen pushups.

You cannot separate your femininity from your body, even in a military unit that declares that all are treated equal as soldiers. You are not an equal by default.

It’s belittling. Exhausting.

But you’ve shown that you can hold your own against the boys. You’ve learned how to shoot clean and fight with your bare hands, how to assemble, disassemble, and repair your M-16. You could do it in your sleep, the sharp click-click of a reloading magazine heard in your dreams.

This week, along with your usual physical conditioning, you have CBRNE training, MOPP training. You’ll be exposed to CS gas and simulations of biological warfare, your leadership skills put to the test.

You can do this. With Carol by your side, you feel like you can do anything. Little fledglings earning your wings, pushed from the nest, learning to fly when the ground is rushing up to meet you. Make or break.

Twenty-eight more days.

The gas is meant to simulate suffocation, they tell you.

“Masks off! Break the seal! Break, break, break!”

You’re already dizzy, head spinning from the chamber exercises when you stick your fingers in between the small space of your mask and pull hard.

The seal breaks with a sharp hiss.

Fire floods your eyes, your sinuses, down your throat, constricting tight like smoke and flames and hellfire. You taste fireworks, poison. Your eyes instinctively shut, blurry with tears and you cough hard, sputter, hear the echoes of other cadets hacking and gasping.

The simulation is meant to put trust in your equipment, to make you vividly remember that your mask and gear will save your life. And as you stand there with your lungs struggling to expand and the MTIs rounding on each of you in the hazy, cloying smoke, you believe it.

“Airman Recruit Danvers, Division 164!” You hear Carol pant somewhere in the fumes, along the walls of the chamber where you’re all lined up. You keep your mask raised above your head as instructed, waiting, suffocating in silence until it is your turn to state your name and division number. The MTIs move down the line with their masks still fixed. Haunting, weaving through the gas and toxins like plague doctors. The image of death. Vultures tearing fledglings apart with pointed beaks and white bone as you watch cadets choke on their own breath.

The primal impulse of fear trickles from your hypothalamus as the minutes tick on, until your lips and tongue buzz like fire ants, until you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers. You’re sweat-slicked and gasping when an MTI turns to you, screams for your identification.

You sound off. Your entire body is shaking, fevered. You are the last in your row.

You burst through the doors and out into the afternoon air with a stream of cadets behind you, taking flight as you thunder on the asphalt to the open courtyard.

You all cough, spit, clear out your lungs with curses and muted laughter as your squadron stands together beneath cotton clouds and blue sky.

Carol finds you in the mix, the few precious seconds where you’re not forced to fall in line. Seconds to catch your breath. Her skin is flushed and wisps of hair fall to frame her face, her bun messy. She grins and the two of you bump fists, playful.

Your cheeks redden, lungs tight with something other than CS gas. It’s strange seeing Carol disheveled when you’ve been so hardwired with self-control, down to how you’re expected to wear your hair, present yourself.

You like seeing her like this.

“Do we have confidence in that gear?” MTI Galloway emerges from the chambers and asks of you all.

“Yes, Chief!” You roar.

Carol calls you Phoenix after that, running so fast out the chamber and looking like a fire had been lit up your ass.

The nickname is fitting for a duo like you. Raptors, birds of prey, fierce and skilled and yet simultaneously embracing and shielding your femininity with unfurled wings.

Have women not been compared to birds in art and literature throughout history as a means to show fragility? Fleeting beauty?

Why not strength? Why ever not for sleeker attributes, or as hunters?

It’s curious. Ships and planes and weapons of war named after women and dubbed she, her. Powerful, deadly. Yet, the real thing, the real body is demeaned and made less than man.

When you and Carol are up in the sky and screaming through the air in your metal birds, they will see just how fragile you are.

You hit the ground so hard that the air rushes out your lungs in a loud wheeze. You can’t breathe. Your face burns, ears ringing. You can hear the screams of your MTI. You’d rather die of embarrassment right here.

The rope dangles in front of you, fifteen feet straight up, still swaying from where you’d fallen, taunting. Physical conditioning for your Basic Expeditionary Airman Skills Training examination next week, fittingly dubbed the BEAST. Rope climbing and complicated field obstacle courses after you’ve crawled through miles of sand and dirt, navigated through tactical drills with your full pack of gear.

Your arms tremble, your entire upper body drained of all strength, skin biting from the sand. Weak, exhausted. Your palms raw from the rope. Tears of frustration sting at your eyes as your MTI screams out your surname in another bloodcurdling roar to get your ass up out of that dirt.

Yet, the low scoff of a nearby cadet is what piques your attention.

Dalquist. A boy a few years older than yourself with an ugly, crooked grin and sandy hair. A show-off, a boy who thinks himself a man. He smirks again with crossed arms, tuts his tongue as his eyes flicker over you.

“They’ll never let you fly.” He snickers.

Then, Carol is there beside you. She grips your waist strongly, shifting your weight and the two of you slowly rise together amidst the swirling dust. You draw in a shuddering breath.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe they’re all right. Maybe you don’t belong here.

You feel Carol’s muscles tense and manage to squeeze her arm in a silent warning. The entire squadron watches the three of you. The last thing you need is falling to Dalquist’s level and getting punished for it.

So she hits him with a reply quite enough only for the three of you to hear.

“You better hope not.” She rasps.

Your time in the classroom is a welcome break from the stresses of field training. You meet Dr. Wendy Lawson, an incredibly gifted and terrifying brilliant quantum physics scientist when she’s brought in to give you post-deployment training. She teaches you flight mechanics, squadron resources and financial management. You learn about her research on quantum energy.

Lawson is especially kind to you and Carol upon hearing your aspirations to take to the skies as fighter flyers. Her standards are higher for you and she encourages you to speak out when you’ve been too timid to respond to the whole class, the twinkle in her eye giving you courage, a voice for the first time in your life.

Together, Lawson and Carol work to coax you out of your shell.

The days trudge on. You throw Dalquist’s remark behind every new simulation you’re given, every mile, every pushup of your physical conditioning.

And it shows.

Your endurance and stamina have nearly doubled, bringing out new muscles in your back, your arms. You’re stronger than you’ve ever been, strong enough to grapple an unsuspecting Dalquist to the ground during field training. He stares up at you in humiliation and horror and you push him harder into the dirt, until your MTI snorts and tells you to let him up.

The mile and a half lap you take known as the Airman’s Run the week of your graduation is a breeze. Your body is familiar with the motion and exertion, the rest of the cadets who’ve made it through BMT with you dressed in new uniforms of pressed blue shirts and the trademark navy garrison cap.

Family and friends watch as your squadron marches in a parade of waving flag and timed step. Your heart swells with pride, with unparalleled accomplishment.

You’re finally presented with the Airman’s Coin and your dog tags. You’ve completed Basic Training. You are no longer a cadet, a trainee, but an oath-sworn member of the Air Force. Next weekend, you’ll be moved into dorms and officially begin your pilot training.

And then you’re free. For the first time in seven weeks, you are dismissed after the ceremony and to spend the rest of the weekend however you please.

Free time. Privacy. Privileges you took for granted as a civilian. You feel giddy, excited.

“We did it, birdie.” Carol’s voice sounds from behind you. You turn, her smile radiant as ever and mirroring yours.

She looks like she was born to wear the uniform, her shirt crisp and cap perfectly straightened atop her pinned back hair. Your pulse stutters, you find it difficult to swallow.

“We did it.” You laugh, a little too breathless with the way she’s looking down at you with that mischievous glint in her eyes. Her gaze catches your lips, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

God, so self-assured. So confident.

Honestly, you could use a little of that confidence.

“What do you say we get out of here? Go see what this city has to offer aside from base?” She says.

Your knees nearly buckle. You have a feeling that you know what will happen off base, at least, what you hope will happen.

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking protocol.

And with the two of you buzzing with adrenaline and boosted egos, how can you even think of saying no? You deserve to celebrate.

You leave Lackland Base and head to downtown San Antonio for the rest of the weekend, for two whole days all to yourselves.

You visit the River Walk and explore as much of the fifteen-mile long city park as you can, strolling along the banks and gorging yourselves on street food and local cuisine. No curfew, no officers screaming orders, just the two of you leisurely enjoying a Friday night beneath a soft sunset and twinkling fairy lights.

You have dinner and drinks at a quaint little steakhouse with a live band and music, the musicians donning cowboy hats, boots, chaps and all. It’s corny. It’s absolutely perfect.

The lime juice is sharp and bitter on your tongue as you throw back your third shot of tequila, lap up the salt you’ve sprinkled over your knuckles. Carol isn’t far behind you. Pretty soon, the tavern lanterns swim pleasantly before you and you sway gently to the music in your seat, blissed out, flushed, content.

Carol’s fingers fondly brush your cheek and she laughs, her eyes crinkling and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You grin back, a bit too eager and lopsided, lean across the wooden table to grasp her hand.

You drag her to the attached karaoke bar next door and slide a few quarters into the jukebox before she can stop you. The two of you belt out your renditions of Nirvana, Heart, Elastica. Your blood is warm and Carol dances beside you with wired microphone in hand, laughing so hard you’re both crying, pulse pounding behind your temples until finally the jukebox clicks with the last of your change and the next requested song is queued up.

The hotel you check into is just down the street and you practically fall through the doorway trying to get each other out of your uniforms. It’s jumbled and chaotic as you slip out of your combat gear, tripping over boots and pants as you finally touch overheated skin, giggling like children.

Disorderly when your lips meet, her hands coming to cradle your face, holding you still with a low groan, a grip that surprises you. It heightens the flush of alcohol sitting in the pool of your lower belly as you kiss her back, wind your arms around her.

You gasp when she tightens a hand in your hair and pulls, mouth ravaging the skin of your neck with tongue and teeth. She walks you blindly until you’re flush against the wall, turns you around with her frame pressing hard against your back.

Her fingers are sure and true when they cup, caress your heated flesh, not an ounce of hesitation in her. You keen, circle your hips hard into her as she works at unraveling you, forearm circling your neck, leaning to put her lips at your ear, breath hot.

“So pretty. My birdie is so pretty.”

It’s been so long since you’ve last been intimate. The military discipline over your physique has made you forget what it’s like to treat your body with love, to feel pleasure, to be touched by a young woman you’d do anything for.

“Let’s see you fly high, hmm?” She breathes. “You want it faster? I wanna see my little birdie soar. Can you do that for me?”

It’s so easy to let go.

Your flesh clenches around her and you sigh, your entire being quivering. Carol braces you, holds you close as you tremble with aftershocks, burning and burning.

Your world is hazy, melting when Carol leads you to the bed and hoists you on top of her, thighs straddling her lap. The liquid courage returns, coy when you grasp the cool metal of the dogtags between her breasts and yank her forward for another breathless kiss.

Her arms are strong, hard with muscle and hands splayed against the naked skin of your back as she coaxes you to earth shattering heights again and again. Until the grey light of day.

Sunday morning, you sleep in until ten o’clock, roused by streaming sunlight and birdsong. Peaceful quiet, a treat in itself with Carol’s arms lazily draped around you.

Your stomach drops when the sergeant cracks open the C-17 door and the atmosphere shrieks into the aircraft. Your gear is heavy, you’re sweating hard, and your Airborne Division is about to jump. You find it hard to breathe and try not to lock your knees, try not to faint. Gut wrenching, everything inside you screaming that this is suicide. Leaping from a roaring aircraft with nothing but a kevlar sac to break your fall.

You see the Airman in front of you subtly cross himself, pretending to scratch his chin.

You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Fingers grip your waist. Carol stands beside you.

It’s too loud for conversation, the air and engine pressing down on your eardrums with tight pressure, but she gives you a nod, another squeeze of your hip. Her lips mouth a single word.

Fly.

Then, the men in front of you are rushing towards the yawning mouth of the plane and you and Carol are running together, side by side, fearless. And then you jump, spreading your arms, dive like hawks.

The sky is a dome of robin’s egg blue, sun shining and tipping the edge of your gloved fingers with liquid gold. You fall fast, hard. Wind rips through and around you, weightless as gravity pulls you to earth.

Pulse ramming, pure adrenaline, ten agonizing seconds of freefall. You pull the pin and your parachute deploys, rocking you backwards as the fabric unfurls and catches the air. You grip your harness tight, float through the heavens and watch as dozens of parachutes dot the horizon around you.

You whoop, shoot Carol a “hang loose”, smiling wide, goofy and vibrating with excitement.

Her laughter carries across the sky.

You’re there beside her when the two of you are promoted to officer rank. First in your class, looking out over a sea of grim, bored looking faces that stare back at you with quiet hostility.

Your officer uniforms are sharp, handsome. Crisp navy suits decorated with shining medals and visible proof that you have fought tooth and nail to be on the stage where you stand now. You wouldn’t want anyone else here with you but Carol. Your wingman. Your everything.

Your names are called and you rise together in unison as Senior Airman Dalquist pins your new patches to your uniforms.

Weeks later, you learn that Dr. Lawson’s plane has gone down. It punches a hole straight through your chest, wrenches up your insides when the news is broken to you.

After BMT, you’d lost contact with her. You wish you could have told Lawson that you’ve done it, that you and Carol are dominating the skies.

And now she’s missing.

You’re in the hangar and up in the air before anyone can stop you.

The crash site is still smoldering when you touch down at a hidden lake surrounded by a halo of pine and sand. You and Carol rip off your helmets, jump out of the cockpit as soon as your wheels are on solid ground, racing towards the wreckage of an eerily familiar F-16 Fighting Falcon.

Lawson lies slumped forward, still strapped into her seat. The glass of the cockpit has exploded all around her, leaving her open and exposed. It looks grim.

“Doc?” You say. Your voice shakes a bit, but you quickly will all fear out of your mind, take a deep breath and allow your body, your muscle memory to take over. Let your training come back to you.

You push back at her helmet visor, sit her upright. Press three fingers against the artery of her neck.

Cold. No pulse.

Then, you see the smoking hole in her chest, where plasma energy has burned through her jacket and blood drips bold and blue onto her lap.

You exhale hard, ignore the strangeness of the latter to check Lawson’s dashboard for any working electrical machinery. No luck. All fried, all scrambled from the crash.

“Carol, we need pararescue stat. Get them here.” You order.

Carol nods wordlessly, composed, turns on her heel to radio them from your own plane.

You brace yourself against the frame of the cockpit, hang your head in shock. You can’t bear to look at Lawson like this. You don’t want to remember her like this.

In those tense moments of silence, a soft, strange humming reaches your ears, seeming to emulate from the F-16 itself. You take a step back to fully survey the wreckage.

The crash has exposed most of the plane’s wiring and paneling, including the engine. Though, this is no engine like you’ve ever seen.

Monstrous, pulsing with blue light and an aura that draws you closer, pulling at your curiosity. It distracts you long enough for you to almost miss the approaching silhouette of a man from behind the suffocating smoke.

He’s dressed in a bizarre emerald jumpsuit with a blazing yellow star in the center of his chest. His step is charismatic, unfaltering.

And what scares you most is the unholstered gun in his hand.

Carol calls your name in a frantic shout.

You put two and two together. Lawson’s killer.

“We have no interest in hurting you.” He tells you, finally pausing at the crest of the crash site. His voice is surprisingly charming and it sends a chill straight down your spine.

We?

You’re afraid. Your old commanding officer, one of the strongest women you’ve ever known, lies shot and killed with blood the color of toxic waste. Her engine looks foreign, otherworldly. Your mind begins to race.

“The energy core. Where is it?” The man asks and brandishes his gun. You force your breathing to steady, to find a sense of calm. You have to focus. Questioning will make him irritable, panicking will get you killed.

Intuition is enough to tell you that the core is not to leave in this man’s hands by any means.

You catch sight of the glinting handle of a pistol resting between Lawson’s knees. You flicker your gaze away and to the proximity of the engine. Then, you look to Carol.

Her eyes shine with tears in the shimmering heat. Her body is tense, drawn tight like a bow, fight-or-flight. You fear she’ll run to you, that she’ll get herself killed trying to protect you. If the roles were switched, you know you would do just that.

So you act before she has the chance to. In one fluid motion, you draw Lawson’s gun and fire a single shot at the exposed engine.

It explodes like heat and magma. Azure energy engulfs you in a millisecond. Like lightning striking your bones, fire that scorches through your entire being and condemning a blazing death of unbearable, burning power, collapsing like a supernova reborn.

Your nerve-endings detonate, a fusion of flesh and skin and pyro that incinerates you to your very core, destroys you from the inside.

You scream, high and horrible. You’ve never felt such pain.

Your eyes ignite in crimson, red hot, flaring with light. Everything inside you rushing upwards and expanding until your mortal frame can no longer contain this threshold and you burst, combust with starfire.

The blast hits Carol next, lifting her up and dissipating, coiling like mist through her skin in synergy. She glows like an iridescent comet, blue light rolling off of her like water and waves, her own eyes flaring turquoise, then white.

When the two of you hit the ground, trees and sand bend and blow around you, knocking the man unconscious as the inertia from your combined energy throws him backwards.

You cry out as you try and hold yourself, crumpled. You are charred, your body humming with poison, radiation and flame, eager to crackle out of you at your slightest impulse, eyes still flaring powerfully.

“I-It hurts..” you gasp weakly.

A true phoenix. Broken and born from ashes.

Carol is there cradling you as tears leak down your face. Wisps of magenta and teal ripple around her with every movement, glittering with cosmic potential, like she contains her very own galaxy. Achingly beautiful.

“I know, birdie.” Carol murmurs as you choke, sputter from the pain. “Fight it. Give it to me.” She says and reaches for your hands.

Carol yelps softly when you push a bit of your glowing gold into her, as she trades starpower for fire and you watch the cage of her chest bloom like a lantern, veins and eyes rimming with ember. She does the same, giving you the moon and stars and the gleaming, lavender milky way.

You let go and Carol gasps as she absorbs a new piece of you. Your mind clears, the pain nothing more than a dull ache.

Exhaustion and shot nerves finally set in as the two of you lie there, quiet enough to hear the wind whistling through pine. You throw your arms around her, your kiss tasting like tears and sand and flushed sunlight.

Carol braces you against her, hoists your arm around her shoulders and lifts you upright. Side by side until the very end.

Then, you take to the skies, blazing like comet streaks and crimson hawks.

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xmonstermashx · 5 years ago

Text

So, I've never published any of my stuff before. Definitely haven't posted anything on here. So um... yeah.... shout out to my girl @Lia_in_bloom on Twitter lol

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Warnings, some violence, probably cussing, fluff?, cops lol. No smut yet... thats to come. 2,575 word count.

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The Sound of the Siren series.

A poly Cashton work.

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Mia could hear the heavy footsteps behind her. They made a thunderous pounding against the wet concrete that competed with the thunder and lightning above and the pounding in her chest. Her short stature didn't help with her pulling any further away from the devil at her back. Regret setting in with her decision to stay late at the record store doing inventory and not taking a cab home.

The rain began to fall down in harder sheets of cold, drowning out the steps behind her. Too scared to risk turning around and coming face to face with whoever was in her heels. Three. Just three more blocks and she'd be home. She repeated the number in her head like a mantra hoping it would ease the panic she felt in her bones.

Two. The closer her legs carried her, the faster she tried to push them. Shaking hands gripping the strap of the messenger bag that bounced off the backs of her thighs with each hurried step. She knew once she rounded the corner she'd have 1 more block and shed also be able to see her house come into view.

10 more steps. Just 10 more steps till 1 block left, she thought, as she pushed her rain speckled glasses up her nose.

She wasn't expecting arms to wrap tightly around her chest and arms. The hot breath brushed against her cheek reeked of garbage and rot. Fear paralyzing her movements and voice. The knife laid against her throat, glinting under the streetlight.

A voice following, low and hoarse in her ear. "Come on girly, hand over all your cash and jewelry."

Too scared to start moving only earned Mia a fist to her mouth, instantly splitting it open. Growing impatient, the man started to grab her bag. She felt the impact of the ground, her face scraping the gravel. Only just registering she was knocked down, when a steel toe boot made contact with her ribs. A painful groan escaping her mouth as she received another... and another. All she could do was whimper in pain as she lay limp and watched a violent stranger retrieve her bag from around her body.

She felt helpless laying there in a pathetic heap as she watched the man rummage through her bag with little care about the battered person who lay at his feet. The space quiet except for the sound of the rustling of her belongings in the hands of the man, her labored breathing and the nightly sounds of the neighborhood. Having scavenged what he deemedworthy of taking, the criminal tossed aside the bag and its remaining contents. It landed inches in front of her bleeding face.

In her dazed state, she watched as stray coins rolled away as the sound of loud clunky footsteps retreated, leaving her ro lay there, trying to regain her senses. Slowly, she readjusted into a sitting position despite the pain and her beaten body protesting against it.

Shaken, she sat there, clutching her knees to her chest. It felt like hours, but was closer to a few minutes, before she fumbled in her pocket for her phone. With numb fingers, she called 911.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

It was nearing the end of their shift, and Calum ran his hands over his face. He didn't mind working graveyard, but on slow nights like tonight, it drug on and idleness increased his tiredness. But, he was thankful his best friend was his partner on the job. He was about to ask Ashton where he wanted to grab breakfast when the dispatcher keying the radio broke the silence first.

"Unit 13 what's your 20?"

Grabbing the mic, Ashton brought it to his mouth. "Dispatch we are over on Meadowview Drive."

"Need you to head over to the corner of Elm Street and Fleet Street. We have a possible 211 and 240. Female victim."

Ashton glanced over at Calum as he shifted into gear. "10-4. Unit 13 enroute."

In less than a minute, the duo reached the location and watched as a small bundle came into view. The windshield wipers, beating a steady rhythm, making it possible to see the figure through the wet glass. There on the sidewalk, sat a girl, looking almost unaware of the rain soaking her clothes. They could barely make out the trace of the mascara running behind her glasses, down her cheeks.

Calum could hear Ashton mutter a "Fuck." Under his breath. They had been on the force long enough to know every possible reason as to why they could have been called in. Though they were generally pretty tame, they'd seen their fair share of brutal cases to know the streets, no matter how safe, were not kind to women who found themselves alone at night. For the girls sake, they sincerely hoped it was a minor case but they wouldn't know until they stepped out.

"You've got to be kidding me. Ash, pop the trunk." Calum said as he opened the door and headed to the back of their patrol car to grab a blanket. His eyes rarely leaving the girl curled up on herself, soaking wet and shaking.

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What felt like an eternity sitting there, so close to the comfort and safety of her home, yet so far. She had considered simply getting up and walking home during her wake, but the thought of moving even an inch made her body freeze up. She was shivering despite having gotten used to the cold water pelting down in her. Her entire being weighed down by soaked fabric and the events of the night. She didn't even notice the car pulling up and parking across her road. Despite having her mind empty of any thoughts, the shock making her look out into space in front of her as she waited for someone to arrive.

"Are you the one who called 911, miss?" Mias head jerked at the voice, startled she wasn't alone anymore.

The officer gave her a small smile, hinting at a dimple in his cheek, rain dripping off the brim of his hat. "Y-yes, I am."

"Ok, well, I'm officer Irwin. How about we get you warmed up a bit while we ask you some questions. How's that sound?" He offered her both his hands to help her to her feet, slightly raised eyebrows over his hazel eyes. He watched as she looked at him for a moment, clearly shaken and slightly hesitant. Her still sluggish mind attempting to register the fact he wasn't a threat.

Mia slowly slid her ice cold hands into his much larger warm ones. Her eyes going to the red and black ink dotting his forearms. His grasp releasing as soon as she was on her feet, beginning his trek back to the patrol car where she noticed another officer standing by the back door of their car waiting.

From a distance she picked up on his dark hair and tan skin, her glasses too fogged up from the rain to notice anything else until they were closer. He was tall and clearly trying to seem more unintimidating as possible, just like his partner, something she appreciated. Being near two uniformed strangers made her feel uneasy, even though she knew they were there to help and prevent anything else from happening to her.

Maybe it was the male presence, maybe if they were female she would be more at ease, though she doubted that. The night had amplified her anxious nature and sent her instinct to flee into a frenzy. She attempted to appear collected and took a deep breath. Counting every step she took in an effort to calm soothe her nerves.

As they got closer, the other officer draped a blanket over her shoulders, careful not to make contact as he did, and opened the back door for her. Mias eyes grew large as her gaze rapidly switched from one man to the other. "I-I'm not being arrested am I?"

"Oh, no. Just thought it'd be nice to warm up a bit and get you out of the rain while we talked." The officer with tattoos littering his dark tanned skin reassured her as his partner attempted to silently assess the visible damage. Whatever happened had clearly been bad enough to have her shaken like this.

Mia nodded her head as she dropped down onto the seat, looking down at her drenched converse as she rested them on the bottom of the door frame.

"How about we start with a name, huh? You already know officer Irwin. I'm officer Hood. What's yours?"

"Mia. Mia Gilmore." Calums heart sank as she looked up at him with sad, scared eyes. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she gnawed them, avoiding the side that was bloody and split. His protective nature making him want to take her glasses off, dry them and wipe the mascara off of her cheeks, rosy from the cold and damp and purple from the fresh bruise.

"Well, Mia. Tell us what happened. Why were you out so late by yourself?" She looked over at Ashton, the same small smile plastered on his face. In his hand he held a small notebook, pencil held, ready to write.

Rubbing her nose with the back of her blanket covered hand, Mia turned her gaze towards Ashton once more. "I was just coming home from work. I'm an idiot and stayed late. I just wanted to finish inventory so I wouldn't have to do it in the morning."

Ashton saw her bottom lip start to tremble, and his smile almost faltered. Looking down at the girl in front of him, looking so frail and shaken, made his heart clench. It wasn't the for or the last time dealing with a situation like this , but it made it no less frustrating. Especially when his mind unfortunately imagined his own sister being in a similar situation.

One of the main reasons he had become a cop was to make the streets safer for his family and cases like these, where the subject was close enough in age to invoke this heavy reminder, only fired him up even further to rid the world of as many criminals as possible. His blood boiled thinking of the scum who had hurt Mia running free as she looked up at him with big helpless eyes. She was too cute and innocent looking to be bruised and broken. If they found the low life who did this, the man wouldn't be walking away on his own.

Ashton watched as Calum crouched down in front of the girl, forearms leaning on his knees. "Hey, we're going to catch this guy, Mia. It's not your fault. It's his."

Mia sniffled and nodded her head as she looked up into Calums soft chocolatey eyes. The brim of his hat keeping the rain out of them. "Good. Now I know it's hard, but you have to tell us everything that happened. Did you see his face?"

Mia took a deep breath and nodded her head as she fidgeted with the blanket. "I don't know. He was in his 30s. He was like your height, maybe." She pointed to Calum, who nodded his head for her to continue.

Mia ran her finger over the split on her now sore lip. "He had a knife." She said as her eyes closed, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Is that how you got the cut on your lip?" Ashton was eyeing her lip, getting angry at the man he didn't even know. Criminals who hurt women, really anyone who hurt women, were at the top of his shit list. He already despised them to begin with.

Mia shook her head, her hair that had fallen out of her ponytail falling across her face. Calum had to fight the urge to tuck her black locks behind the pink shell of her ear.

"No, I got it when he hit me." She lifted her head and pointed to the nick on the pale skin of her neck. "This is from the knife"

Ashton and Calum inhaled deeply thru their noses and looked at each other. They silently agreed that if they ever found the man, he wouldn't leave on his own accord. One of the many things they agreed on was men like that were vermin and deserved a special place in hell

Calum looked back at her and gently asked her, "Can you tell us anything else that happened?"

"He tried to grab my bag, but it was over my body. He knocked me down and kicked me till he got it." The tears she had been forcing herself to not to shed, slowly slipped down her cheeks.

Calum got up and reached into the passenger door panel and grabbed a box of tissues and handed her one. Mia gave him a small smile of gratitude and he thought Heaven had opened up and let a child sing.

"He had on steel toe boots. I felt them." Mia said sadly as she wiped her nose with the tissue.

Ashton couldn't keep his eyes off of the girl in front of him. He'd never admit it, but his heart was breaking for the girl in front of them. Her clothes were ripped, she was bruised, wet and cold.

"How about we get you home. You can change and get some sleep and come into the station tomorrow and make a statement."

Mia let out a small sigh, her chest deflating as she stood up. She laid the blanket down on the seat behind her and turned around to two pairs of confused eyes. "Where do you think you're going?"

Looking up at Ashton just as confused. "Home."

Calum scoffed at her. "You really think we'd let you walk home after what happened?"

"Don't think so, missy. Hop in and point the way." Ashton shot at her as he headed to the drivers door.

"It's no problem really. I just live up the block..." Calum followed her gaze to a little beige house near the end of the block.

Mia climbed back into the car and sunk down into the warm back seat as Calum closed the door for her before getting in himself.

Calum shook his head realizing she was so close to home when she was attacked. She had sat there waiting for help all while looking at her safe, warm home. And that broke his heart for her even further. This should have been a safe zone for her.

Out of the pair of officers, he'd always been a tiny bit more invested in their cases than his partner. It was simply in his nature to empathize with their victims and want to help them in any way possible. It was his own motivation to catch the person in order to gain justice for those wronged. It was in his entire being ro worry for others yet, he didn't know why he felt so protective of her.

Maybe it was her innocent grey eyes behind her glasses that kept falling down her nose. It could have been her chubby cheeks he wanted to cup in his hands as he stroked her face. Was it because she barely even reached up to his chest? Whatever it was he knew he couldn't let her go anytime soon.

#cashton #idk what im doing #ashton irwin drummer god #calum hood maori prince #i dont even know how to hashtag #please like this cause this is my first fan fic i actually dropped #long ass hashtags sorry

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vesuvianist · 6 years ago

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Asrian 9, 55, 75? :3c

Thirsty Thursday:NOT ACCEPTING

ꕥ Classic choice, Nonnie

Pairing: Asra x JulianDialogue: 20 — “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”Location: 55 — LibrarySituation: 75 — Blowjob

▬▬▬▬▬๑✧ ∭ ✧๑▬▬▬▬▬

Kissing Asra was a dangerous game. There was a chance you could come out unscathed, satisfied and still be able to go through your day without wanting to kiss him again. But on the other hand, a single kiss, no matter how chaste, could never be enough. Especially now that Asra had learned how to make Julian into putty with mere seconds of contact. Asra’s toffee colored fingers traced a featherlight touch along Julian’s inner thigh, close enough to tease and too far away to give him what he wanted. He worked relentlessly on Julian’s neck from behind, and his other hand subtly began to thumb open the buttons of Julian’s shirt now that the doctor had finally leaned back in his chair to allow Asra to begin his ministrations.

The sigh that left Julian’s throat was laced with desire. He relaxed further back, letting his head loll to the side for Asra to have more room. But he had to say something before Asra had completely taken away his rational mind. “This is…n-not a good idea, Asra…”

“Hmmmmm~?” the magician purred as he lifted his head, keeping his eyes closed as his kisses now trailed up Julian’s jaw instead. Julian opened his eyes halfway, panting softly.

“We’re…supposed to be w-working…We don’t have time for this.”

“I am working.” Asra stated matter-of-factly, grinning against Julian’s skin and squeezing his thigh for emphasis, eliciting a soft sound.

“L-Lucio wants a status report within the afternoon!”

“He’s too stubborn to die any time soon,” Asra argues, twisting his head to kiss right under Julian’s ear. “We have plenty of time.”

Julian huffed softly feeling his resolve start to crumble as Asra’s hand popped open another button. He lifted a hand to cover Asra’s, turning to look at him, feeling his heart melt at the sight of Asra’s tantalizing gaze. “Don’t smile at me like that,” Julian pleaded. “You know it drives me crazy.”

Of course Asra knew it. Hence why his smile only got wider. He tilted his head coyly, voice intimate and seductive. “That is the goal, Ilya.”

The doctor finally yielded when Asra’s fingers ghosted over his crotch, sending shivers through him. He gave a whimpering moan and reached back to pull Asra in for a proper kiss. Asra wasted no time, his tongue sliding between Julian’s lips and teasing him with the precision of a god, pulling open what remained of Julian’s shirt.

With Julian’s chest now exposed, Asra sought to change their position to make things more easily accessible. He stood upright, touch lingering along Julian’s neck as he walked around the chair and then yanked him up out of it. Julian shouted in surprise, looking down at Asra with anticipation—perhaps a little bit of fear, too. Asra needed only to slowly pivot, his eyes holding enough of a trance on Julian to make him turn as well, and in a fluid motion, he kicked the chair back and pushed Julian onto his own desk, spilling a few books and papers off of it in the process. Asra struck forward like a snake, capturing Julian’s lips in a deep kiss. He whined softly, arms draping around Asra’s waist and holding onto him tightly. Each kiss was intoxicating.

When Julian pulled back to catch his breath, Asra was already biting into the tender flesh of his neck, causing him to inhale sharply, a hand gripping Asra tighter as he felt a rush of heat roll through him. The bite wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to tease Julian into begging for more in less visible places. As if on cue, Asra began to kiss downward, his hands roaming over Julian’s chest to massage his skin and slide his thumbs over Julian’s stiffened nipples.

The further down Asra went, the faster Julian’s breath came, and the more color started to flood his face. “I still haven’t repaid you for helping me the other night,” Asra noted with a seductive smile.

“Y-you didn’t have to.” Julian answered, causing the magician to pause, looking up at him with a cocked eyebrow. Julian stuttered. “That—that is to say, I didn’t—er, it was really nothing buh—but I’m not opposing this, what uh, what we’re doing, it’s fine, you’re fine, I don’t um…I don’t think it’s a bad idea. Ah, I did, before, but I’m not—I don’t think it’s a bad idea anymore. It’s a good idea actually, since well, we haven’t really had an opportunity to, er…”

Asra shook his head, and for a moment it wasn’t clear if he was amused or annoyed, but in any case he silenced Julian’s rambling with a not-so-subtle nuzzle against the growing erection in Julian’s trousers. The instant contact was made, it gave Julian a full body shiver, and he bit down on his lower lip to censor a groan. Asra between his legs was more than an arousing sight. His breath was hot and made Julian’s cock twitch.

“Are you going to keep quiet? We are in a library after all.” he rested his cheek on Julian’s inner thigh, looking up at him with a cunning smile. His hands brushed up and down Julian’s leg, a ghosting touch that made Julian tense. He let out a huff of air and swallowed.

“I…might need a bit of help with that…”

Asra bit his lip and chuckled warmly, slowly standing upright and caging Julian in between his arms as he leaned in, their bodies flush against each other. His voice was lowered to a near whisper. “Bold of you, Ilya. I like it.”

“Tha-thank you?” he panted softly, blinking a few times. He looked rather embarrassed, but it only fueled Asra. Julian was incredibly easy to fluster, and teasing him had become almost like a game that Asra could never lose.

“I could just gag you,” Asra suggested in a low purr, bringing a hand up to caress Julian’s chest. “Or…take away your voice,” his hand traveled further upward, running along his neck. His eyes seemed to be a bit darker, though maybe it was a trick of the light. His thumb slid over Julian’s throat, forming a small chokehold, though he didn’t press down. “Or your air.”

He didn’t need to. Julian’s breath got heavier, his eyes slid closed and his expression twisted in pleasure as the idea sent waves of desire through him. His erection had grown painfully hard, and Asra definitely could feel it against his abdomen. He chuckled, slowly letting his hand fall to tease Julian’s nipple instead. He tilted his head when Julian opened his eyes.

“Though it’d be hard to have that kind of control from far away. Maybe another day…” he gave Julian a look that promised he would definitely fulfill that fantasy when they had more time. Asra had fully bewitched him, and Julian’s arms pulled Asra closer in their embrace. “A simple gag seems so primitive…maybe we should try some hocus pocus.” he lifted his brows at the name, causing julian to breathe out a slightly startled laugh.

“What–what kind of hocus pocus?”

“The kind that will make it much easier to get away with this without getting caught.” he suggests, humming softly to question his interest.

Julian looked nervous, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Okay…”

Asra lifted the hand from Julian’s chest and pressed two fingers to Julian’s Adam’s apple. Before the doctor could question it, a cooling sensation crept along his throat…but it was so strange. The cold had seeped into him, not just around him. The feeling of Asra’s magic was strange, like nothing he’d felt before. It tingled, sending goosebumps along his skin. When Asra’s hand fell, the cool sensation lingered before it faded.

When Julian tried to ask what Asra had done, his lips moved and there wasn’t a single sound that came out.

Julian gasped, staring at Asra, who returned the stare with a chuckle. He kissed the doctor briefly, and then sank to his knees once more. “Don’t tug on my hair unless you want me to stop. Understand?” he waited for Julian to nod in affirmation. Julian was still trying to get over the fact that Asra had completely taken away his voice. The only sound he could make was his ragged breathing.

Asra watched Julian with purpose, his hands tugging the loose belt of Julian’s trousers off and opening the top button, releasing his throbbing arousal. The second Asra touched it, Julian shuddered and threw his head back. His whine of pleasure was just a huff of air.

Asra stroked Julian a few times, the darkly flushed skin was hot in his hand, and each movement made Julian curl his toes in his boots. His heart thundered in his chest, unsure of what to anticipate from Asra. His amethyst eyes were unreadable.

The magician took his time, massaging the sensitive flesh, and examining it like an appraisal. His eyes flickered up to look at Julian’s expression, and there was an unspoken understanding of what Asra intended. Julian lifted his hips so fast it was almost comical. Asra chuckled and he released Julian’s cock briefly to tug down his trousers. Once the fabric was pulled down over Julian’s knees, their eyes met for only a moment before Asra leaned in and kissed the inside of Julian’s thigh. At first it was soft, but he quickly changed to gentle nips, and those gentle nips quickly became harder and more purposeful. He threw his head back and took long, deep breaths to calm himself. The sharp sting of Asra’s teeth was combined with a tingling pleasure that traveled up his thigh and straight into his cock. He moved to the other thigh shortly after the first mark was red and sure to change to a bruise, giving the same treatment. He peppered the flesh with kisses and bites, creeping closer and closer, but far enough away that his cock stayed untouched. Soon, his thighs were covered in marks, he’d be able to feel them with each step the next day, and the thought of it made Julian want to cry with pleasure, shivering. He carefully sat up straighter when Asra seemed to slow down, trying to see what was stopping him.

Apparently Asra just wanted Julian to watch. He smirked when Julian met his gaze, and held it while leaning forward again to swipe his tongue around the head of Julian’s cock.

It was incredibly satisfying, each swirl sending a pulse of pleasure through him and he leaned back on his desk, breathing harder. If the magic hadn’t silenced him, he’d already be keening. Asra’s tongue was hot and the texture of it on his cock made Julian want to cry out in desperation for more. His technique showed a surprising amount of experience, but Julian couldn’t think to question it. He was too busy relishing in the feeling of Asra’s tongue coaxing him.

Once the tip of his cock was satisfyingly wet, Asra opened his jaw and sank down, his nails digging into Julian’s thigh. The cavern of Asra’s mouth was incredibly warm; Julian gasped when Asra’s hand massaged the base of his cock. He sighed heavily, getting lost in the pleasure as the familiar heat flared in his abdomen and his head started to spin from holding his breath. He reached down and held the back of Asra’s head, not tugging his hair, as instructed, but still desperately pulling him closer. Asra squeezed Julian’s cock, and bobbed faster.

The wet sound of Asra gently sucking Julian’s cock combined with the desperation of Julian’s breath and soft humming sounds coming from Asra only made the experience more pleasurable. As Julian climbed closer to his orgasm, Asra stopped going so deep, and instead his tongue swiped back and forth along the sensitive spot just below the head. The sensation made Julian pant heavily, and his thighs shook lightly with how tense he became. He wanted to sob from how good it felt, but Asra’s magic only intensified around his vocal chords, making the sound a breathless rasp. He looked down at Asra, who shortly after met his gaze, and pressed his tongue harder into the pleasurable spot, simultaneously sucking harder. Julian’s expression contorted with pleasure and his jaw dropped. Within seconds, his rapture had reached its peak.

Ropes of cum exploded from Julian’s cock and Asra opened his mouth wider to let each one land on his tongue without hitting the back of his throat and choking him. If he didn’t like the taste, he showed no indication of it. Instead, his darkened eyes stayed locked on Julian’s face as he rode out his orgasm, shuddering from sensitivity. The last of the bittersweet fluid left him exhausted, but Asra sank back in, lazily swallowing around Julian’s cock to keep the pleasurable sensation there, not letting go until his erection had totally softened and he nearly had tears in his eyes from the light overstimulation. He panted fervently, dizzied from his actions.

Asra slowly pulled away with a wet pop, and he too was panting with effort. He used Julian’s knees to support him as he stood up and pulled Julian’s head forward to rest it on his chest, embracing him to enjoy the brief closeness. At this proximity, Julian could smell the exotic scent of incense and spices that was unique to Asra, and it comforted him as his heart quieted down. Asra’s fingers came up to the side of Julian’s throat and his magic returned once more. The cold feeling was replaced with something warm, and his voice had been returned to him. He gratefully moaned into Asra’s chest, nuzzling his collarbone.

He wanted it to last longer, but Asra was already pulling away from the contact once he’d caught his breath, wiping his lips. He pushed Julian back, and the doctor had to catch himself or he would’ve probably fallen backward onto the desk. He stared at Asra in a daze, making Asra laugh as he ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before.”

Julian blinked once, then shook his head to clear it. “I…we’re done?”

Asra looked incredulous. “I repaid you, didn’t I?”

Julian slid off of his desk and walked Asra back into the chair he’d kicked backward, bracing his hands on the back of it while coming mere inches from kissing Asra again. His voice was significantly heavier than it had been before they started. “Would you grant me the chance to thank you?”

He half expected Asra to say no. The magician had even looked shocked by the sudden turn that had been taken, looking up at Julian with an owlish expression. But after blinking a few times, his smile had returned and his hand tangled into Julian’s curls and tugged back to expose his throat. He ghosted his lips along the flesh, Julian swallowing in anticipation. “Do you think you deserve the chance to?”

Julian’s eyes were half-lidded, and he leaned his head in to kiss Asra’s neck instead. “Please…”

#the arcana #ask game #answered #asrian #asra x julian #asra #julian #Anonymous #arcana #asra arcana #julian arcana #smut #asrian smut #not work safe #lemon #citrus #asrian lemon

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maswartz · 6 years ago

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Fun facts about myself (aka how did I live this long)

These are as I remember them or how I’ve heard them. Mostly chronological order 1. I was born looking like an old man 2. My sister once had to tear my diaper off because it got full of bees. 3. Once when I was still a baby I fell down the stairs and the babysitter did nothing, she just put me back in my crib and let me cry. When my grandmother got home she was pissed. She fired the sitter on the spot and got me to the hospital. 4. When I had surgery (to deal with something about my belly button) I literally ripped the IVs out of my arms, the doctors said I could go home that night. 5. I got pneumonia in kindergarten 6. Another student bit my butt in kindergarten (on the playground) 7. Either in preschool or kindergarten my mom arrived to pick me up to find I had escaped and was running around the parking lot being chased by teachers. 8. I once dropped a drill on my toe and only started to scream when my dad and sister got in the room (this one may not be 100% true) 9. Once during a party at our house the gate was left open and I walked right out until a complete and total stranger found me (at the corner of our street) and brought me home. 10. I once walked out of the yard and went to a neighbors house (the same neighbor my sisters did the same thing with) 11. One time at a theme park my mom had to drop me. It was because when we were getting on an airplane ride (think the flying dumbo ride) the idiot started it before we got in and she had to drop me to avoid it hitting me. 12. Once I literally karate chopped a glass into tons of pieces (I actually remember this one) (It either split in half or shattered) 13. One time in elementary school during a summer program I got lost in the woods for an hour, I eventually found my way out and two joggers kept me company until my sister and one of the councilors found me. The best part of this one is when I go for a walk now I walk right past the street I came out of the woods at. 14. One time at Boy Scout camp I had a bad feeling about the weather but everyone else said it was fine. Sure enough it started thundering and lighting (and of course we were on top of a mountain at the time) Thus a bunch of preteen boy scouts ran for their lives and ended up hiding in the latrine until our scout master started to sing “always look on the sunny side of life”. As I was running I noticed my all metal mess kit and kept thinking it was going to get me struck. 15. Also at that same camp there were a bunch of sheep (i still have a piece of wool from one of them) and one of the scouts in my patrol wanted to get a picture of one of them he dubbed “harry ball” (after a baseball park near us as well as the obvious). Next thing we know he’s running from a sheep stampede. He got out of the way and the sheep ran out of the camp. Last we heard they were eating someone’s garden. 16. At that same camp we were taking our swimming test in a light drizzle (rain was clearing up). I got hypothermia in the middle of the summer in that lake. 17. Once in high school my sister was driving me to school (we went to the same high school) when I was complaining we were going to be late because she was getting coffee at starbucks. As we were pulling out a car hits her car. Glass everywhere! We were fine but literally the last thing I said before it was “we’re going to be late”. 18. Another time in high school my grandmother was driving me to school when I was messing around with her car and picked up the cigarette lighter (older car). I accidentally turned it on and put my thumb right on it. I took it off and shoved my thumb right into a water bottle. My mom was the sub nurse that day so I went right to the nurses office and my exact words were “Mom, I did something stupid.” She put some second skin band aid thingy on it and you can’t even notice it now. 19. It turns out I have Raynaud’s disease which basically means when I get cold it hits me harder and my fingers and toes turn blue faster. So yay… 20. My sister and I once fell by our pool getting the same scar on the same knee. 21. Despite everything on this list I have never broken a bone in my life *knock on wood* 22. I didn’t speak until I was five years old (I was taught sign language but I sadly can’t remember much of it). My first word was “Mommy” and it was on my mother’s birthday 23. My father is a firefighter and when I used to visit him at the fire house I would actually climb up the fire pole. 24. I can open doors with my foot (not by kicking but turning the door knob with my toes, I have big toes) 25. When I was younger I had a condition known as Pica. Basically I ate non-edible things. I would eat string, towels, paper, tissues, my clothes, chairs (some of the chairs in the house still have my bite marks in them), and plastic. It got to the point where I had to go to the doctors because I had a horrible pain in my stomach. We think it was a blockage caused by all the stuff I ate. But the best part is my dad came in (right from work) and he poked my stomach and he must have dislodged it because the pain went away. 26. I once blew up a light bulb by spitting on it when it was on. 27. On a class trip a friend of mine literally had to step on my foot to keep me from running off and befriending a squirrel. This was in high school. 28. One time we were removing a bush from the garden and we managed to get most of it up except the main root/body itself. After a lot of work I just sat down, put my feet against it, and PUSHED. Over and over and over until with one great big push it came out. So I pretty much bench pressed a tree. 29. Another time we were digging a hole in the backyard and it was about 4 feet deep when I had to get out of the hole to get something. So I crouched and jumped right out of the hole. Four feet straight up in the air. 30. I am an Eagle Scout and an Assistant Scout Master (haven’t renewed that though) 31. For years I’ve been having chronic nosebleeds (once I even got one because I was laughing too hard at an Achievement Hunter video). It has gotten to the point where I’ve had the inside of my nostrils cauterized (basically a “burning” stick of metal is shoved up my nose to burn the blood vessel causing the nosebleeds so the new tissue heals over it) 32. When I was younger I was so skinny you could see my ribs almost all the time, some people even said they could see my heart beating. 33. When I was in elementary school in the bathroom I saw a spider crawling up from the urinal (I believe this led to my fear/dislike of spiders) 34. One time I sat on my grandmother’s couch and my back landed on a bee/wasp which stung me, not fun. 35. One time after I got home from Boy Scout camp I was showering when I discovered a Ladybug was crawling on my butt. I didn’t kill it but I let it go. 36. I have Asperger Syndrome (as in officially diagnosed) 37. One time a few winters ago I left my glasses in the window as I was taking a shower and when I got out they had literally frozen over. 38. When I was little I once went through a training course for children on how to get out of a burning building, it was neat. 39. I dropped out of community college and have no job and no social life, when I remember these I can’t help but feel like a failure and waste of space. 40. When I was 10 my family went on a cruise in Alaska, it was amazing. But the fun fact is on the cruise one of the entertainers was a ventriloquist named Jeff Dunham. This was before he hit it big time. 41. Once at Boy Scout camp it was the final night before we all went home and they had these giant inflatable balls (bigger than the kids) and we were bouncing them around when it bounced off another kid right into me breaking my glasses right down the middle, fortunately my parents came up that night anyways so we went to get new ones. 42. My sister measured my morning walks with the dog a few days ago, turns out I walk him 2.2 miles (in total).

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capricornzoso-blog · 7 years ago

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V/Taehyung's Natal Aspects

Planets in Houses*

Sun House 8

Moon House 12

Mercury House 9

Venus House 9

Mars House 9

Jupiter House 7

Saturn House 11

Uranus House 9

Neptune House 9

Pluto House 6

Node House 5

Positions of Houses

House 1 6°21' Gemini

House 2 0°13' Cancer

House 3 21°51' Cancer

House 4 15°35' Leo

House 5 15°31' Virgo

House 6 24°29' Libra

House 7 6°21' Sagittarius

House 8 0°13' Capricorn

House 9 21°51' Capricorn

House 10 15°35' Aquarius

House 11 15°31' Pisces

House 12 24°29' Aries

* Planet/ * *Aspect * * Planet/ * * ORB *

* Point * * Point#2 *

Mars Conjunction Neptune 1°48'

Mercury Conjunction Uranus 2°14'

Mercury Conjunction Neptune 2°23'

Mercury Conjunction Mars 4°11'

Venus Conjunction MC 5°06'

Mars Conjunction Uranus 6°26'

Sun Conjunction Jupiter 8°58'

Pluto Opposite AS 4°27'

Moon Square Neptune 0°34'

Moon Square Mercury 1°49'

Moon Square Mars 2°22'

Moon Square Uranus 4°04'

Moon Trine Jupiter 3°53'

Venus Trine AS 4°07'

Uranus Trine AS 7°05'

Uranus Sextile Pluto 2°38'

Mars Sextile Saturn 3°31'

Mercury Sextile Pluto 4°53'

Saturn Sextile Neptune 5°20'

Sun Inconjunction AS 1°42'

Mars SesquiQuadrate AS 1°27'

Sun Quintile Saturn 0°46'

Moon BiQuintile Pluto 0°42'

Here, the aspects with the smallest orbs will be the most prominent in influencing V's personality and life, ofcourse as I stated earlier major aspects like the conjunction hold more effect at 10° than an exact(less than 1° orb) minor aspect like a quintile. The most important thing would be the aspects that a planet forms in a birthchart, then the house that the planet occupies and then the least important is the zodiac sign in which the planet is situated. For example-Someone with a Pisces moon(often regarded as a soft and whimpy moon sign) square Mars and conjunct Pluto(Both of them co-rulers of the dangerous and manipulative Scorpio sign/8th house) in the 1st house(ascendant, our image projected towards the outer world) at 0° exact would not be soft and wimpy like other Pisces Moons, if not at all. Ofcourse, it could retain some of the characteristics of a Pisces moon but on most occasion, that person would show Mars and Pluto more often than Pisces.

Also Important is the chart ruler or the ruler planet of the ascendant sign, for V it would be mercury since mercury rules Gemini, his ascendant. All aspects formed to Mercury would be much more prominent

Astrology is withheld to no single human being or entity. As we go on, we gather knowledge from others, but that knowledge is not ours to keep so we cannot put restrains on it.

Of course we ought to respect someone's intellectual property and not demean it via unlawfull use and plagiarism.(I am not going to sue you don't worry)

All of us are human and have fallacies, I or you,my reader are no better a person than my subject.

So off we go-

Mars Conjunct Neptune

(My sister has this too, exact. I know)

People with this aspect have delusions about themselves and their life, they often fantasise about accomplishing their dreams but fail when they have to put it into action, because they give up before they can complete it. Procastination is also a possibility, so is the possibilty of extreme passiveness, they are often late when meeting deadlines. If you told them they have weird fantasies and/or that they are delusional, they are rarely going to accept it. Self-deception is quite common. These people should be carefull not to engage in occult phenomenon or with mediums and psyshics, they can quite easily come under psychic attack by negative entities, they lack physical boundaries and their physical space is often invaded by other people without their consent. On the plus side, they can have great artistic talent and could be good at water sports including swimming. Since this conjunction occurs in the 9th house, we will see V behaving like this in an educative environment(he probably wasn't a dilligient student who always did their home work on time. Lol everybody is like that)or while travelling. Their is some danger from water while travelling.

Mercury Conjunct Uranus

A sharp mind, lightning sharp wit. He always comes up with the quirkiest of ideas and since Uranus(the planet of innovation and progress) is conjunct his chart ruler mercury, this aspect is very integral to his personality. He hates old or conventional methods of thinking. (Like if some man shaves with a razor, our V is going to shave with a scissor. Chill its an example.) He has many original ideas and his mind cannot stay still for more than a few seconds. He has the ability to comeback with witty one-liners in a conversation much faster than most people. He has a brilliant mind but needs to channelise his ideas into productive endeavours instead of just thinking 'em. He has a good sense of humour. He is a progressive thinker. Someastrology sites call this the genius aspect, the moniker is not undeserved as these people are brilliant at coming up with solutions a lot faster than me and you can. Their over-active brains however often result in distorted speech. They might think that they cannot express the ideas that they conceive, as they tend to forget them as quickly as coming up with them.

Mercury Conjunct Neptune

Another aspect for distorted speech, he has trouble accepting his insecurities and other people's criticism in favour of living in his own reality, this results in avoidance of telling on the truth in lieu of making up false stories or half-truths.( A friend with this aspect is incredibly insecure when voicing her opinion and often tends to take a diplomatic stance on every issue for fear of being ignored, she doesn't even notice this at times. )

On the plus and plump, he more likely than not has a good taste in artistic pursuits. This aspect also makes him sensitive to psychic phenomenon. He could even develop telepathical skills.

These people should be checked for going around a topic, avoiding a conclusion as they can have problems coming up with the exact thing they want to articulate.

Mercury Conjunct Mars

These people can be very aggressive when talking, especially when they feel someone has challenged them. They feel challenged most of the time BTW. You don't want to be around them when they are angry, with their scathing words they are going to make you feel like a total piece of shit... You cannot win a debate against them, they will run over you with a bulldozer. Shouting, Screaming and Swearing(for some) are extremely common occurances. They have the proverbial "mercurial" temper. Often the moniker "mercurial" is used to describe Guns n Roses frontman(lead singer) Axl Rose, famous, aside from his very talented singing ability, for leaving the stage whenever anyone did ANYTHING to displease him. He has a video on Youtube where whilst singing a man disturbs him. He is quick to jump off the more-than-7 feet tall stage into the crowd saying "Okay then Goddamnit", why? Because (In his words-"Thanks to to the lame ass security I am going home" ) *Throws Mic* he has this aspect too(at an10° orb)

Venus Conjunct MC-

The MC is our image to the public/our profession according to some astrologers, people with their Venus conjunct Midheaven or MC would express their sense of beauty, their taste in art and their values to the outside world or even integrate these into their workplace. They are likely to be preceived as beautifull and talented. In his case, he is precieved as knowledgeble in the industry's undertakings due to his sense of astistry. Industry insiders probably think he is an expert in the idol game. He likes to maintain an ambivalent environment and since his Venus is in Aquarius, he comes off as a mediator to his friends. He holds his values to himself in professional settings. Some people may find him somewhat of a do-the right-thing kind of person

Mars Conjunct Uranus

Very short-tempered but his temper falls down as soon as it rises up. You will never know when he would go off into a rage. He is extremely unpredictable, you will keep guessing but never know what he would do next. He is very progressive sexually and probably isn't quite okay with homophobia and racism on a sexual level.

At the same time, he tends to very erratic when using his energy. His drive to accomplish tasks at hand comes and goes at an unhealthy pace. He could at times experience severe bouts of hypochondria, doing one thing after another and then regressing like a sunflower at twilight.

Sun Conjunct Jupiter

This aspect makes V extremely optimistic, and LUCKY. Just when everybody is down with sorrow, he will light up the atmosphere with his positivity and confidence. Although, this aspect is mostly positive , we do observe some narcissistic tendencies here or even an inflasted sense of self. Overconfidence is more common however.

Pluto Opposite Ascendant/Pluto Conjunct Descendant

When a planet is opposite your ascendent, it is immediately conjunxt your descendant. The descendant is our behaviour is romantic or nonromantic committed relationships and partnerships. The descendant also provides a clue to the kind of partner we are attracted to or what kind of person is attracted to us. His descendant is conjunct Pluto, making him extremely Scorpionic in a one-on-one relationship. He is very controlling, like to know where you are at, what you are doing, manipulative to get what he wants from his business or romantic partners. He is extremely suspicious and its not easy to attain his trust but once you do, he will stand by you come rain and thunder. He is also very jealous and possessive of his romantic partners. He is a Scorpio in relationships or he could attract these kind of partners and relationships. He is the kind that will have your hair cut if some other guy compliments your hairstyle.😲 There is also the possibility of attracting dangerous and violent partners that want to control him, he could attract stalkers, obsessed people and/or criminals

Next time, we will be looking on to the other aspects .

Till then. ZoSo~♤

#V Birth Chart #BTS Astrology #Kim Taehyung #Kpop Astrology #Kpop #ZoSo

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endae · 8 years ago

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20 + dipper and mabel!!! if it's not too much to ask :)

[AO3]

This is your PSA that Restart by @ursamajjor is honestly one of my most favorite post-Weirdmageddon fics, and I wish more people had seen it. It’s written so poignantly and I reread it often. This is based on it!

That being said, you definitely don’t need to read it to understand this. The only context you need is basically that it’s rooted in the idea of Dipper’s injuries from Weirdmageddon finally catching up with him.

[20. “I’ll protect you no matter what…even if it kills me.”]

Stan’s outcry from the front of the Shack draws an abrupt end to her conversation with Grenda. But the moment Mabel pivots on her heel to face his direction, whatever words she’d been planning to say die in her mouth.

As if it’s triggered some honed response of survival, Ford flies past her without another beat.

The realization hits her like a train, and she takes off after him.

What she lacks in speed she makes up for in determination, sprinting just inches behind him. Her heart pounds in time with her steps, the thunder in her ears like a precursor of the storm to come. Weaving through the townsfolk gathered on their lawn, they part like an ocean giving way for a rescue, without a single word. It speaks volumes.

The front porch has never felt so far away. All their days chased out of the forest, yet none of them could measure up to the dread growing inside her now. Run. Run faster. Panting hard, she shakes her head in disbelief, the mantras of ‘no’ hanging on the edge of her lips.

She’s already put two-and-two together: Ford was right beside her when Stan yelled, and it wasn’t his own name that he’d shouted.

It isn’t fair. To weather an apocalypse and a half, and still feel the terror caged in her chest. It isn’t fair, to beat the odds against Stan’s wiped memory, to suffer the gaps of the unknown alongside him and still have it come to this, feeling like they still had everything to lose.

They were so close — so achingly close to making it out of this…

But it takes the sight of Dipper cradled limp in Stan’s arms and the sickening drop in her gut to realize that their nightmare is still far from over.

If she thought the drive to the hospital would be the worst part, she was wrong.

Waiting was the worst part.

The drive made for a close second, though — Stan’s running of every red light in town is no new fear, but the urgency behind it this time could send her over the edge. For every sharp turn he takes, Mabel finds herself gripping her brother a little tighter each time, if only to keep him from flinging out of the seat.

They’ve laid him across her lap, and the few times he has in her life, it’s been for reasons far less dire. Car sickness when they were younger. An hour or two on the bus ride up to town.

But not this. Never this.

“His head won’t stop bleeding,” is a string of words she never wants to hear again.

Or the sensation of feeling it start to ooze into her skirt.

‘Almost there. Almost there.’

Nerves frayed to the point of snapping altogether, she distracts herself however possible. Her eyes dart manic across the car, fixating on the rear-view mirror and all its truths. The passing trees, the buildings — mere hours ago, the rubble of a town they learned to call home. Anything to keep her from looking down.

But try as she might, for as far as her eyes wander, they always wind up drawn back to his face. How could they not? It’s pale in a way it shouldn’t be. It’s beaten and blotched in shades she didn’t think it could.

How much more was he hiding under his clothes? Broken bones? Scars?

Dipper’s never suffered anything that a bandage couldn’t fix. Even then, it was always a hug before it was a first aid kit. They’ve escaped this whole summer with bumps, scrapes, it only fed into the illusion of how invincible they could be.

It was only inevitable that their luck would run out eventually.

She just didn’t expect the burden to fall so hard on only one of them.

Even still, she thinks harnessing a fleeting bravery could keep the nervous breakdown at bay, but the raw emotion dripping from Stan’s demeanor tells her she should be afraid. The illusion’s all but shattered now, the proof screaming all around her. Between the reckless swerves, the crossfire of her uncle’s voices, and the growing worry of what else might be wrong with him, it leaves her frozen in her seat, detached from everything.

Mabel fights off every urge that isn’t keeping him in place.

She’s so afraid to touch him.

But the most she’ll permit herself is let her hand atop his head slip down, her thumb coming to rest across his cheek. The smallest comfort she can give right now.

‘Hang in there Dip…’ she thinks, swallowing hard. ‘You’re gonna be okay. You always are.’

By the time they come to a screeching halt in the hospital parking lot, she’s already gone numb. Either by his weight in her lap or the adrenaline starting to wear off, she isn’t sure, but it leaves the world a muffled blur of too many sounds and too many motions.

When it isn’t Stan grabbing for her brother, it’s medical personnel. It’s nurses. Assistants. There are so many hands on him, and it’s breaking her more than anything that none of them can be hers.

They whisk him off someplace she can’t follow.

It doesn’t stop her from trying.

[Read the rest here on AO3!]

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #mabel pines #dipper pines #stan pines #mystery twins #hurt/comfort #starbutterflly #angst #3k #one request left!!! and it's the very antithesis of this prompt tbh

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