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kittyamore0 · 1 year

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Ethan Landry x Dewey and Gales kid reader??

A/N: Dewey and Gale! Dewey and Gale! ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕

˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ 𓆰•ᴗ•𓆪˗ ˎ

✧ - FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, dark romance, scream 6, Ghostface, Ethan Landry

✧ - TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @zspen, @h34rtsformilli ✧ - PAIRING: Ethan Landry x GN! Reader

✧ - RATING: SFW

✧ - WRITING STYLE: One-shot

✧ - POV: 2nd person

✧ - REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, copy, modify, OR steal my ideas! ✧ - CW: Mentions of killing, knife usage, deaths, guns, setting people on fire, deaths, wounds, slitting throats

At first, Ethan hated you, and you hated him. You were related to Gale Weathers and Dewey Riley. The same very people who tried to stop Richie and Amber from their genus plans, and managed to do so.

Dewey tried to help, and he died. Deserved, is what Ethan would like to think, but Gale, Gale was much harder to shake. A fighter, per-say. She was the one to hold Amber at gunpoint and set her on fire.

Sam Crap-enter, and Tara Carpenter. Oh, how much he hated Sam for slitting Richie's throat. Tara? She wasn't as bad, but still bad.

You? Hated you for your parents, but was all...he couldn't find any other reasons to hate you. You were just...perfect? Kind, funny, smart. All of the above. It infuriated him. God, he couldn't stand to see your perfect face, the same face that made his heart jump up and down, cheeks flushed an words caught in his throat.

Why did you hate him? Well...you happened to catch him talking to Quinn, about Richie being their brother. The same Richie that attacked your friends, parents, and you. Although, you didn't stay long enough to hear them talk about some...Ghostface matters.

But just like Ethan, you grown warm, nice, but overwhelming feelings for you. The shy, dorky, fun, funny, kind, nerd. You two always hung out, despite hating each other. It went from distant, to practically sharing food with the same forks!

The more closer and comfortable you two got, the more you both realized what the feelings you held for each other were. Now, it did infact make it more difficult to not give out any weird signs to each other.

Quinn hated the way her brother swooned for you. You were their next victim, not Ethans next lover. She'd always slap the back of Ethans head when he day dreamed about you. "Ow! goddamit...the hell is your problem Quinn?" Quinn sighed. "Stop thinking about your love duck and focus on the plan!" Ethan rolled his eyes.

You were the first to confess. You were drunk at the Halloween party and Ethan? Somewhat sober.

⚬˶♡˶⚬⚬˶♡˶⚬⚬˶♡˶⚬⚬˶♡˶⚬

"Etahn, I've be been look for you!" You giggled, as your body collided with Ethans. "Woah, you okay?" You nodded and nuzzled in his chest. "Now that you're here..." His cheeks flushed bright pink. "How much had you have to drink?" You shrugged. "3...no, wait...5...?" Ethan 'ohh-ed' before gently pulling you closer.

"You're drunk..." He whispered. "Wait...who are you again?" His smile dropped. "Im Eth " You chuckled and grabbed his shirt. "You look just like Ethan!" His eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled, deciding to play your little game. "Really?" You nodded quickly. "Mhm, yea!"

You hugged him. "Hes really cute, and handsome. Hes so nice to me. I like him a lot. I want him to be my boyfriend!" Ethans eyes widened and he stared at you in shock. "What...? "

You put your index finger on Ethans lips. "But shhh! Dont tell him. I dont know if he likes me back..." You murmured sadly. He gently smiled. "Tell you what, Im a friend of Ethans...and and he tells me how much he likes you. How pretty/handsome you are, funny, kind..." You blushed and averted your eyes away from his.

"Guess what?" You looked back at him. "What?" You spoke quietly. "Im the Ethan you're talking about..." A smirk played his lips. "What? No way!" You softly hit his chest. "Yes way!" You replayed in your mind about what he said. "Does...does that mean you like me too?" He nodded. "Want you to be my lover..." He sighed into you and placed his chin on your head.

"Will you...?" His eyes shined in the blue lights. "Yes." You closed the gape between you two.

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samiswifey · 9 months

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Just Talk To Each Other

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Warning: none

Summary: since the last ghostface attack Sam continued her therapy and met you there. As the weeks passed by you guys grew close and feeling definitely grew between you guys. However neither of you were ready to say anything in fear of losing the other.

It was six in the morning and you and Sam were both up early eating breakfast and making light conversation. Neither of you couldn't sleep for some reason, so you both decided to wake up make breakfast and just talk.

The conversation wasn't deep or super meaningful but it was calming and nice to just be around each other. You both have been through pretty similar things and it was comforting to be around somebody who understands what you've been through. Although neither you nor Sam would ever admit it really you both like that you got each other without having to say anything. It was nice.

"Your birthday is Saturday. Have any plans on what you would like to do?" Sam asked.

You shook your head as you frowned a little. "My birthday has never been celebrated. My mom was always too high or drunk to remember and my father hated my birthday because it reminds him of the day his life was ruined and refused to even celebrate it." You told her. "So I never celebrate my birthday. It comes and goes without much of a thought from me."

That made Sam extremely sad to hear and she couldn't help but feel bad for you. "If you could have your dream birthday celebration what would it be?" She asked. You thought for a moment before answering. "Dinner with friends at my favorite restaurant, ice cream at that new shop that opened up and then watching my favorite movie." You said. "I know it's not much or huge but it's what I've always wanted. A day focused on me, doing what I want."

Sam immediately kept that in her mind because she was going to make your birthday the best day ever! She was going to hopefully change it so that you now look forward to it every year. She's going to change your life.

"Don't forget I have therapy today. So I'll be back later than usual." You said.

Sam nodded but knotted her eyebrows together. "Why would I forget that?" She asked. You chuckled a little. "Because you have a million things on your plate and you tend to forget things. Also I know how you freak out when I'm not home on time." You said.

Sam wouldn't admit that you were about that but you were. However nobody can really blame her considering everything she's been through the last two years. It was understandable that she would be worried if you're not home on time.

"So how are things going with the sisters? Any attacks recently?" Beverly asked.

You frowned at her obvious dig at Sam's killer bloodline. "Sam wouldn't hurt me or anyone. Those rumors aren't true." You snapped. Beverly laughed as she narrowed her eyes at you. "Y/N I just don't get how you can trust someone like Sam who's father was a killer. If I was you I'd keep my guard up around psycho girl." She said.

You were growing increasingly angry at the girl. "Sam isn't psycho and she wouldn't hurt me. In fact she's the only person in this city that I know for a fact I can trust." You said strongly. Beverly laughed at that and quickly turned to face you.

"Y/N don't you find it strange how everyone who's been around her always winds up dead. Everywhere she goes ghostface comes back decides to going on a killing spree. Amber, Ritchie and his family all dead after they met Samantha. Anika dead after she met Sam and her sister, along with kids she used to babysit all got seriously injured because of her!" She fired. "You are next if you continue being around the daughter of a killer."

The anger in your eyes grew but immediately disappeared when you looked passed Beverly and noticed Sam standing there. "Sam."

Sam was tense as she held a paper bag in her hand and glanced between you and Beverly. "I just wanted to drop off your lunch since you forget it this morning." She spoke softly. You slowly approached her and took her hand. "Thank you Sammy. You're amazing." You said honestly. Sam relaxed when you said that and smiled a little. "We'll talk later." She said. You nodded at that. "Ok."

After Sam left you unloaded on Beverly in a very quiet but sturn way and told her to watch her mouth when it comes to Sam. That she didn't know the girl or what happened and she can't talk about things that she doesn't even know the truth about. She knows Reddit forms and the rumors, she doesn't know the truth like you do so she in less words should shut up.

Leaving the sandwich shop Sam immediately put her hands in her pockets. She was taking what Beverly said to heart right now because they girl wasn't wrong. People who come in contact with her do get hurt, they do get killed and it haunts her. She knows her father being ghostface ruins everyone's first impression of her. People don't trust her because they think she'll be just like her father, when that's never been the case. She's nothing like him and she really wished people would understand that.

Sitting alone Sam couldn't help but think about Beverly's words. They haven't left her head. However she's not trying that hard to not think of them. Everything said was true and she knew that but she tried not to believe it because she knew herself. At least she thinks she does.

"Sam what are you doing here?" Tara asked when she saw her sister.

Sam shrugged, with her hands still in her pockets. "I, uh, wanted to see you. See how your day has been." She said quickly. Tara knew it was more but didn't push her sister to tell her, so she just let it go for now. "Things are fine. I have a pretty big project due next week so I'll be spending the night at Mindy's so we can work together." She said. Sam nodded as her eyes looked all over. "Uh before that do you think you could help me?"

Tara was shaking her head as she watched Sam try (and fail) at making a cake. She didn't understand how Sam could be such a great cook but completely failed when it comes to baking. It really doesn't make any sense.

"Sam, I love you, but buy a cake!" Tara says. "You can order it today and have it ready by Saturday."

Sam pouted but agreed because that was a much easier idea then her trying to do this. "I guess you're right." She mumbles. Tara looks at her and stepped closer. "You never bake. After the cake you made for my birthday you swore off baking." She said. "So what made you change your mind now?"

Sam played with her fingers while completely avoiding eye contact with her younger sister. "I wanted to do something nice for Y/N's birthday. I wanted her to know that she's special to me." She said. "Do something for her."

Tara knew what her sister was saying without saying it. She knew because she was the same way with Amber, but unlike you, Amber didn't appreciate it.

"I haven't known Y/N long but I do think that whatever you do she'll love." She says.

Sam sighs as she continued playing with her fingers. "I know, but she told me what she wants. She told me how she wants a day about her and doing things she likes. So I'm trying to do that for her." She said. "I just want her to know that she's not ignored."

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

Saturday came fast then expected and you found yourself wide awake in your room just wondering what today was going to bring you. Your birthday usually never felt any different from any other day of the year, but today it did. You could feel it in your heart that today was going to be different.

"Y/N are you up? I have something for you?" Sam said through the door.

You sat up and held a pillow close to you to protect yourself, for some reason. "Yeah I'm up." You called out. The door opened slowly and Sam came in holding a stack of pancakes in her hand. "First, happy birthday! And two, I've made pancakes because I know they're your favorite." She said softly. "I hope you like it."

You smiled as you took the plate from her. "Sammy this is great. Thank you so much." You said. Sam stood off to the side as she fiddled with her nails. "So what did you want to do? What are your plans?" She asked.

You shrugged as you cut up the pancakes. "I was thinking of getting take out and watching this movie I found. Nothing big." You said. Sam nodded as she looks at you. "Any thing else?" She questions. You felt confused by her question. "What else would we do?" You asked. "I mean, yes it's my birthday, but it's still just another day. Nothing special," you added.

Sam sits down at the edge of the bed. "Well, what have you been wanting to do that you haven't done?" She asked. You thought about it for a while because there was a lot you haven't done. "I would like to go to the museum. I never have been to one because my parents wouldn't let me and I have always wanted to go." Yo said. Sam smiles "done."

Standing at the entrance of the museum you couldn't believe that you were here. You thought it was all talk until you and crew actually arrived at the museum. You wanted to pay but they wouldn't let you. In fact Tara took your card and kept it on her so you couldn't pay for anything. Today was about you and they were all treating you to everything today.

Walking inside the group split up. They all went different directions, leaving you and Sam alone together. You smiled at her and took her hand as you led her towards the art section of the museum. Since you were an art major in college you loved learning about art. It was something you enjoyed doing in your free time.

As you two looked at the art on the walls you talked to Sam about everything you had learned about certain pictures. You told her what you remembered and she lit up as you explained things to her. It made your heart go crazy over the fact that she was obviously enjoying what you were telling her. People usually didn't care what you said, so having Sam actually care made you really happy.

Walking around slowly you and Sam held hands as you looked at everything. You guys made conversation about what you saw. You liked listening to Sam talk and it made you really happy that she was enjoying something that you liked. Her joy wasn't fake or forced and that was another positive about her. She was great.

Spending most of the day at the museum was an absolute dream come true for you! It was everything you imagined and more. Even though it was a very last minute plan Sam made every moment perfect. It was great.

Leaving the museum you and Sam were still holding hands as the group walked back to the car. Today has been great and you've only done two things. It was heartwarming that Sam would do this for you and you couldn't help but think about what you'd do to make it up to her because she really deserves this.

"Sam don't forget the cake!" Mindy blurted out, but quickly covered her mouth when everyone looked at her with harsh glares.

You looked at everyone. "What cake?" You asked. Sam was glaring at Mindy through the rearview mirror before looking at you. "I had a cake made three days ago for your birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise." She said. You smiled at her and took her hand. "I really appreciate that but I would have taken a box cake." You said.

"Oh Sam can't back. That's why she ordered one." Tara said easily, which made everyone laugh.

Sam rolls her eyes but smiled at you. "So would you mind picking up the cake first before we get food?" She asked. You shook your head. "Absolutely not."

Arriving at the cake shop Sam quickly gave the name of the order and waited with you as they went to go get the order. You looked at her. "Thank you for doing this. I really, really appreciate it." You said kindly. Sam smiled at you. "Don't mention it." She says. Things were quiet as you both locked eyes together, and it slowly felt like gravity was pulling you guys together. Neither of you stopped until you met in the middle and shared a kiss. It was quick and you both pulled away before things could go forward. Nothing was said as you both stood in silence together.

With the cake in hand you and Sam left in awkward silence as you got back in the car. You still sat next to her but neither of you said anything as she drove back home. You could really cut the tension with a knife but you both didn't know what to do. How do you talk about this? What do you say?

"Can we eat cake first before eating dinner?" Tara asked.

"Yeah I really want cake right now." Mindy added.

Sam speared you a quick glance before looking at the ground. "Only if it's ok with Y/N. It is her birthday and her cake." She said. Both Tara and Mindy looked at you, begging you to eat cake first. You sighed but smiled a little. "Go ahead. Have cake." You said easily. They both thanked you before running off to cut the cake.

After the cake had been cut and the food had been served the group gathered around the tv to watch the movie that you rented. It was a small indie film that had just been released to streaming and you were excited to watch. However things with Sam were still tense and you sat wondering if she was mad at you.

As the movie went on you just couldn't focus. Your mind was else where, wondering if Sam hated you. She has really talked much since the cake shpo and you were worried that she now hated you because of what happened. She must hate you for the kiss in the shop. Feeling overwhelmed you quickly excused yourself and left. You ran to the bathroom and locked yourself inside. You had to think.

"Ok what's going on?" Chad asked.

"Yeah you and Y/N have been acting weird since the cake shop." Tara pointed out. "So spill Sam."

Sam avoided eye contact with everyone as the played with her hands. "Uh... Well... We kissed. It was quick, very quick but we kissed." She said. They all looked at her and held back the burst of excitement they wanted to yell because they could tell that Sam was sad. "Then what's wrong?" Mindy asked. Sam frowned "I... Don't know. We didn't talk but things got so tense between us and I don't know what to do." She says. Chad, Tara and Mindy looked at her. "Talk to her Sam!"

Sitting alone you were trying to think of a way to talk to Sam and move past this. You hated the tension and you wanted to go back to how you were. However before you could think there was a soft tap on the door.

"Y/N can we talk?"

Slowly opening the door you were face with brown eyes staring right at you. "What did you want to talk about?" You asked softly. Sam closed her eyes for a second before opening them. It was taking all her strength to say what she was about to say.

"I like you Y/N. I've liked you for a while now but I never knew how to tell you. I'm not good with talking about my feelings, so sometimes I'll just react on them. I did that tonight because I couldn't hold back anymore. I just really-"

You cut her off by kissing her again. This time it was longer and filled with more passion as you poured everything you felt for her into that kiss. Since the moment you met Sam you liked her. She was beautiful, strong and had a great sense of humor. When you were alone you guys grew close. She knew things about you that nobody else did. You liked Sam.

Pulling away you smiled at her. "I like you to Sam. I always have." You said. Sam smiled and hugged you. "I'm really glad to hear that." She says. You laughed as you pulled away and smiled at her. Today has been one of the most amazing days ever and it's all thanks to Sam Carpenter.

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin

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lionydoorin · 1 year

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I'm now humbly requesting angsty Tara headcanons

now we're talking >:)

cw gonna talk about substance abuse and some disturbing thoughts here !

we need to talk more about post-5/pre-6 tara and her recovery process. the legacy killing happened in late september, so from what i know the 2022 school year had just started. tara and sam move in with the meeks-martin's for the rest of tara, chad and mindy's school year. they take two to three months to get back to school, still recovering from their injuries and having to deal with pitiful looks from their peers. tara absolutely despises it.

because the looks her classmates give her are haunting. they seem scared, imagining what she'd been through. they absolutely won't talk when she's nearby. they'll open up hallways, stare at her from their lockers. it just makes her grip on her crutch tighten and she just wants to look at someone and yell at them.

her senior year experience is what makes her hate the whole situation the most. it's what makes her yearn for the normalcy she'll never have the most, as well.

she lashes out during their lunch break, once, when she hears two girls whispering about them. tara turns to yell and tell them to shut up, to mind their own business, because she's just so fucking tired of them and their fake pity and whatever the fuck they think of them. they're not only survivors, for fuck's sake, they are people and they should treat them as such.

mindy and chad help her out of the cafeteria before she can hit them with her crutches. she sobs onto their chest for at least an hour before martha is there to pick them up. when she gets home, sam welcomes her with a warm embrace, telling her it's fine, that she can let it all out.

she's so wary of new people after 6 as well. her trust issues reach its peak. tara was already the worst at letting other people in, but knowing that, at any moment, someone new might be a masked killer trying to take her and her loved ones down?

it makes the classes that she doesn't share with chad and mindy so lonely.

she feels lonely most of the time. it's hard to smile when everything reminds her of everything she's been through.

with rapid weather changes, tara's injuries bother her a lot. rainy days are the worst, and she skips class a lot on winter. she relies on painkillers a lot to keep her going; they're not enough. they're never enough.

the stronger ones were off the chart after sam found out she got a bit of an addiction to roxanol.

having been through terrible things makes her mind wander to intrusive, disturbing thoughts a lot. she imagines what it would be like to be murdered anywhere she goes, how ghostface could crack her body, cut her into tiny pieces and leave its parts there to be found by someone. after the bodega episode, she thinks of people she doesn't even know dying a lot, as well. tara has panic attacks and has to leave class early constantly.

nightmares. constant nightmares. she sees amber a lot, sees her disfigured figure, remembers the night she first got attacked and wakes up to her leg hurting more than ever. sometimes, her mind plays the moment she stabbed ethan again, and again, and again, reminding her that she's a monster, because no normal person would do something like this.

she's not normal. she'll never be normal. she'll always be this empty shell, this dead girl walking.

tara thinks about it a lot. how she could've been dead. how, maybe, it would be better for everyone if she was.

#i LOVE the evil version of the memes maxie keep it up.#ask #autism swagger #tara carpenter #scream #ma talks scream

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krikeymate · 1 year

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@wabitham For you I will try and think about Amber and Tara. I started writing this and then you posted this, and I gotta say I agree with what you've written.

I decided to put a read more for a ramble, and add a summary of Amber and her relationship with Tara up here.

Amber is protective and possessive: once she determines she wants something or that something is hers, it's hers. Tara is one of those somethings.

Amber hates Sam because Tara still loves her despite hurting her, when Amber is the one who has been there for her.

Amber becomes Tara's person once Sam leaves. She pretty much relies on Amber for her entire emotional fulfilment, and Amber loves the feeling of power it gives her.

Amber has never been a people person, but she knows the world is easier with connections, and that it makes Tara happy, so hence the friendship group she associates with.

The year after her dad leaves is super hard on Tara, she ends up getting held back a year, much to her frustration. She was already older than her classmates, and now she's even older. Not to mention the embarrassment of being held back, of everyone whispering about you and staring at you all the time. It's like everyone knew what was going on in her life except her.

Amber has always been studious & mature for her age; she's at the top of her classes. When Tara is put into her grade, Amber is asked to help her assimilate back into the school environment and help her with her classwork. Everyone knows that they're already familiar with one another, and it's expected that that's what Tara needs in these trying times, a familiar face.

Amber doesn't think much of Tara at first, she doesn't really think much of anyone. People are just annoyances she has to deal with. She likes that Tara does what she says, even though she's older and people let her get away with things they wouldn't let others get away with. She's used that to her advantage sometimes, Tara would do anything for a smile and a compliment, Amber realises. She stops demanding her parents get her dog a month after being saddled with Tara.

It's just after Christmas, 4 months after receiving the role of Tara's tutor and buddy when The Incident happens and Amber begins to see Tara in a whole new light. She realises there's an anger inside of her, just like Amber, and it feels important to the girl somehow. She decides that Tara is no longer an obligation, she's hers.

So Amber becomes protective, possessive some (their friendship group) might say. Tara doesn't mind, so the others only grumble about it jokingly.

Amber hates Sam. Sam doesn't deserve the love and adoration her Tara heaps on her. Amber is the one who's always there, who sees her sadness and her tears. Amber is the one to hold her hand and cheer her up and help her with her school work and scare away the bullies. Sam is too busy getting drunk and fucking her way through every teenage boy in Woodsboro.

And Tara? She's needy. She's emotional and weak and she didn't realise how much she needed her sister until she wasn't really there any more. Then the world sends her Amber. Amber who couldn't stand her at first; carrying a dismissiveness that reminds her of her own mother. But it didn't matter, because she let Tara tag along and come home with her after school and she helped her with her homework even though it had to be frustrating for her sometimes. Tara just didn't want to be alone.

Skipping forward.

Sam leaves and Amber is all Tara has. She has her other friends sure, but they don't know her like Amber... or Sam. They don't fill her with comfort and radiate safety, they don't protect her like them. They don't love her like them. But Sam left and so she clings to Amber, and Amber doesn't push her away. She revels in it. Tara adores her and she takes advantage of it, curious; Tara's not unwilling, embarrassed, to curious to learn, to practise. She doesn't date though, Amber won't have that, she scares anyone who might try away. Amber doesn't share.

Years pass. She moves into the old Macher house. She develops a new obsession. She remembers the little secret Tara's mother once revealed to her. It consumes her. She speaks to people online about it, to others just like her who share her passion and her thoughts. She can't speak about things like this with Tara, Tara's too sensitive, Tara likes characters and stories and happy endings. They don't share this love.

She meets Richie. She let's it slip that she knows Billy Loomis' daughter. He makes a suggestion, she makes a suggestion. Before they know it they've got a plan and they've committed to carrying it out.

Amber pries when Tara's half asleep: have you talked to Sam lately? Do you ever wonder where she ended up, what she's been doing? Does she ever plan to come home? Tara reveals she knows where Sam is, she's been stalking her social media ever since she left, she never reaches out (if Sam wanted her in her life she would contact her, she would come home, Tara thinks). That's a surprise to Amber. Tara's never kept a secret from her. Of course it would be Sam's fault.

She tells Richie, and he begins his part of the plan. It takes him 2 months before Sam will even give him the time of day, another 2 before she ever opens up to him. They bond over shitty families and legacies left behind by their fathers and being disappointments, both of them skirting around the details. Until one day he catches Sam on Instagram, looking at a specific account. She reveals she has a little sister. He waits until she's drunk next, to bring up her little sister. He pries, and she talks about the little sister she loves so much who she abandoned. How much Tara must hate her. He asks if she would ever go back - not a chance - not even for your little sister? I would do anything for her. Even go back? Even go back.

It hurt Amber, doing what she did to Tara. But it had to be done. It irritates her and fills her with pride in equal measure when she fights back. Unfortunately, it means she gets a little more hurt than she intended. She shouldn't have fought back if she didn't want her leg broken. This was about Sam.

"This will all be over soon," she says as closes the cupboard door. She could convince Tara to keep her mouth shut, to say it was the robed and masked figure who tied her up and locked her away, that she didn't know who the Ghostfaces were. After all, once Sam is gone, Amber really will be the only one she has. But first Tara has to see. She wants her to see, to know she's all she has left. Tara's a good girl, she'll do as she's told.

It wasn't supposed to go down like this. Sam wasn't supposed to untie her.

Fuck Sam Carpenter.

#/mp #Scream #Tara Carpenter #Amber Freeman #scream headcanon tag #topic: timeline #topic: childhood #Scream 5 #so here's the thing. I'm single-minded and obsessive.#When I enter a fandom I enter it immediately having fallen in love with one or two characters & a single relationship related to 1 of them #That's it. No compromise. I am literally incapable of more.#For Scream - the characters are Sam & Tara and the relationship is also them. It's so very hard for me to care about the other characters.#Final notes: they're all queer. Sam and Chad? Bi. Mindy? Lesbian. Tara? Demi.#Also typing this all up made me realise Tara totally has BPD. Which also frequently happens to be comorbid with schizophrenia

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volklana · 1 year

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I’ve Got a Burning Desire For You, Baby.

Title comes from this song:

Masterlist can be found here: Masterlist

Summary: Based off the back of my latest Bucky Fic, I decided to combine these two requests:

Okay the way you wrote Zemo actually did things to me. Do you think you would ever write a Zemo x reader. Him calling her little one....

Just saw your requests are open yay! So how about reader and Zemo have a one night stand in his apartment during tfatw? Literally no one does angst like you so could you do it where he feels bad because you're the first after his wife and reader feels bad because she feels like she's betraying Bucky

Warnings: Zemo x Reader. Hints of Bucky x reader too. As close to saucy as I can go (I tried)

Zemo’s apartment was beautiful, it reminded you a lot of the summer you had lived in Prague many years ago although admittedly your apartment had been nothing this grand.

“You’re benched tonight kid,” Sam instructed as you leaned against the counter clutching your ribs, you were about to protest when Bucky shot you a glare, “Don’t. You’re injured.”

“It’s simple, we’re just going out to collect some intel. No fighting, no trouble.”

“I don’t believe that for a second Sam,” you scoffed, he tried to hide his smile but didn’t quite manage.

“So I’m on babysitting duty,” you motioned to Zemo who was seated on his couch sipping on whiskey.

“Come on y/n, even injured, you could take him in your sleep,” Bucky offered.

Zemo conceded this was accurate with a subtle nod of his head, and so you relented, albeit very reluctantly.

“Would you like one?” he offered motioning to the whiskey decanter, pulling your attention from your book.

You nodded and thanked him when he passed you a glass, enjoying the pinch as the amber liquid slid down your throat. You examined him carefully as he sat opposite you and stretched his legs out, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. A comfortable silence settled between you before he shifted, eyes meeting yours.

“I can feel you staring little one, your gaze is very direct.”

You smiled bashfully, diverting your gaze, “I’m just trying to work you out,” you offered honestly.

He had risked his own life to save you earlier, he didn’t even hesitate a second. Picking you up when you were too wounded to run any further, shielding you from the hail of bullets, that were raining down.

“That’s funny,” he countered shifting to examine you properly, “Because I have been trying to do the same.”

“There is nothing to figure out,” you shrugged.

“On the contrary, there is a lot I can’t make sense of.”

“Such as?”

“You look at Sergeant Barnes like you would take a bullet for him. Like you would follow him into the burning flames of hell if he asked you to.”

“Well, I would,” you replied without missing a beat, “Sam too.”

“Ah,” he tutted “But it is different with James. I sense there are some feelings there, and yet you do not act upon them.”

“Well we can’t all act on our impulses,” you scolded, you didn’t want him to know how deep his words had cut.

“Ah but you see everything I did, just as you do for Bucky, I did for love.”

You didn’t know how to respond, instead opting to take another sip of whisky.

That seemed to satiate him for a moment relaxing back into the couch again and sipping on his own whisky. You examined his face again, he was attractive in a way you couldn’t quite explain to yourself. You had been determined to hate this man, for what he had done to Bucky and the rift it had caused between the only family you had known, but ever since Bucky had broken him out of prison there was this underlying, unspoken chemistry between you. Lingering glances and tenderness on his part that you simply had not expected.

“Have you considered what might happen if you did act on your feelings with Sergeant Barnes? Or acted on any of your impulses for that matter?” Zemo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“I fuck everything up?” you offered with a laugh, and he laughed along too.

“As someone who has, as you very eloquently put it, fucked everything up. It’s not always so bad.”

You finished your whisky in one mouthful, rising you made your way to the island and poured yourself another whisky, before you knew it Zemo was behind you, reaching for the decanter he placed a hand on your lower waist.

He smelled of amberwood and vanilla, the scent filling your senses the second he stepped out of the bathroom earlier after bathing.

“Tell me I’m reading you wrong little one,” he whispered in your ear, hot breath on your neck.

“I want to,” you gasped, as he placed a kiss to the spot your neck met your shoulder.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, but when you made no reply he turned you in his arms, one hand sliding up the small of your back the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, he placed a kiss either side of your jaw, finally closing the distance and meeting your lips.

You melted into the kiss, melted into his touch completely. It had been a long time since anyone had held you this way, and you fisted your hands into the material of his robe.

You gasped as he lifted you onto the island, wincing at the pain in your ribs, but pushing it aside.

He slid his hands under your shirt, not breaking the kiss and went to slide it off, “Wait, wait,” you panted, hopping down from the island, running your hands through your hair “What are we doing?” you were panicking, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, Bucky had crossed your mind for a split second and it was enough to send you spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” he offered taking a step back, “It’s okay little one, take a breath. It’s okay.”

You began pacing, willing yourself to calm down, “I’m sorry,” you told him honestly.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said softly.

“It feels wrong. It feels so wrong,” you exclaimed “So why do I want you so much?”

Zemo made strides towards you.

“This isn’t easy for me either. I’ve never touched another woman but my wife since…” he trailed off for the first time speechless, you could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, “But from the moment I saw you, I wanted you, I realised I’ve been..lonely.”

Your face softened and you reached out for him, he was blinking rapidly, it was like he was trying to process something difficult but as usual his face gave nothing away.

Then the door opened and Sam and Bucky bundled in, arguing amongst themselves and you and Zemo broke away from each other, pulling your hand back like you had been burned.

They grabbed two glasses, helping themselves to some whisky, only then did Bucky notice the expression on your face.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming to place a hand on your shoulder, “Has he upset you?” he fumed throwing a glare in Zemo’s direction.

“No, Bucky no,” you rushed shrugging him off, “I’m tired,” you argued, but you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Zemo, locked in a glare with him, so you continued, “Now that you guys are back I’m going to get some sleep.”

You didn’t spare a glance at any of the men in the kitchen before charging up to the spare room.

You tossed and turned for hours, kicking the blankets off and pulling them back on again. Running your fingers through your hair and sighing -you could not stop sighing.

Bucky and Sam had stayed up talking for another hour after you had went to bed, you didn’t hear Zemo’s voice so you assumed he left shortly after you.

You couldn’t stop replaying the way he had kissed you, you replayed it over and over again in your mind as you tossed, the way his hands felt roaming your body and then that confession that he had been lonely.

You were too, achingly so and you had been for longer than you cared to admit.

Giving up all hopes of sleep you tossed the cover off with finality and tiptoed across the floor, creeping down the corridor until you found the door you were looking for.

You didn’t knock, you gently let yourself in, his bedside lamp was on and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. You felt vulnerable, hugging yourself.

“Helmut?” you whispered somewhere between a plea and a whisper.

He crossed the room in an instant, taking you into his arms and kissing you. This time neither of you made any attempt to stop the other. He made quick work of removing your top and you slipped his robe open, gliding your hands along his chest. Your hand sliding up to meet his jaw, you traced your thumb over his cheek and the way he looked into your eyes made you want to crumble

“Say it again,” he whispered intensely, “Say my name again.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and whispered his name.

He backed you towards the bed, making quick work of the rest of your clothes, and you gasped as he lowered himself into you.

Zemo was sleeping soundly beside you, he looked peaceful, his long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks. You allowed yourself the luxury of running your thumb across his lips, and he smiled in his sleep.

You couldn’t explain the emotions bubbling in your stomach.

Part of you was disgusted with yourself, Bucky was sleeping metres down the corridor and you had just slept with the man who had made his life hell. Would he ever forgive you? Would you ever forgive yourself?

“Come here,” Zemo mumbled, voice laced in sleep and fondness, you scooted down, allowing him to pull you to him.

In the morning you crept back up the corridor to your empty bed.

“And I never meant for it to happen Bucky, but it did. And I can’t take it back,” you were trying not to cry but the tears were welling in your eyes “And I don’t want to lie and tell you that it meant nothing, but I was so fucking lonely and it was nice just to feel-”

“-Wanted,” Bucky finished for you.

You couldn’t speak, choked by emotion you simply nodded.

His face was conflicted, but he reached a hand for you anyway.

“Y/n, how am I in any position to judge you? All the things I’ve done.”

“But?” you were scared to ask

“But I wish it hadn’t been..him.”

You felt shame wash through you until he continued, “I wish it had been me.”

Tagging: @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff @hellomissmabel @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus princess76179

#zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo smut #zemo imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #MCU fanfiction #mcu imagines #volklana writes

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golbrocklovely · 2 years

Note

Ngl lie, if Amber and Colby would be a couple , they would be such a powerful one . Even more powerful than Kat&Sam I think.

I know they are just friends and do not have any more feelings for each other and I absolutely LOVE their friendship. So please do not take me as Idk Shipper ( ew)? It was just a random thought that I got.

Also reminds me how I absolutely miss their videos together. We need more T_T

i don't think this fandom would be able to handle colby dating amber. first off, my bisexuality alone would end up with me in the grave bc omg they are both so hot lol and then on top of that, amber got hate for even being slightly flirty with him. so i can only image what would happen if they actually dated.

that being said, if they did date, i would have absolutely no problem with it. i think they're better off as friends, but if it were to ever happen, i wouldn't be upset.

also yes. they need to stop teasing with possibly collabing and just do it bc dear lord i miss their collabs :(

#ask #personal #colby brock #amber scholl

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lacy-oh-lacy · 4 months

Text

Scream women when someone hits on you

Sidney wholeheartedly trusts you to reject them but she keeps an eye on things to be safe -given her history she's weary of any stranger approaching you. It's only if you're looking uncomfortable that she'll step in. 9/10 times she won't cause a confrontation, she'd rather find an excuse to drag you away, but if they catch her on a bad day... Well, she's not afraid to throw a punch.

Sam can't help being a little tense. She watches you so carefully for any sign that you want rescuing, and she ALMOST hopes you do. As much as she hates the thought of you being uncomfortable, she'd love an excuse to taser this douchebag. If there aren't any major red flags but you still can't seem to shake them she'll come over, acting casually enough but laying the passive-agression on thick. She can definitely be intimidating if she has to be.

Tara is pissed but she waits to see how you react before she steps in. She doesn't want you to think she's babying you, and plus a small cynical part of her needs the reassurance that you'll reject them on your own. Of course you do, and when they still don't back down, that's when she rushes to your side protectively, aggressively reminding them that you said no.

Mindy's first instinct is to find the comedy in the situation and tease you about it. However if they're lingering a little too long or being pushy it doesn't take her long to get annoyed. She won't hesitate to shoo them away with rude comments and bluntly stating your taken, laying on a bit of PDA to prove her point. She acts like it wasn't a big deal afterwards but she doesn't let you out of her sight the rest of the night.

Amber beelines over as soon as she sees what's happening, blood boiling. She snakes an arm around your waist in a too-tight hold and introduces herself to the person, tone full of warning. It doesn't take long under her withering glare to scare them off but she's already contemplating finding them later as Ghostface. For now though, she's sticking to your side like a body guard and clingy girlfriend rolled into one.

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

#scream imagine #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x reader #sidney prescott x reader #amber freeman x reader #mindy meeks martin x reader #scream x reader #scream headcanons

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iwillbeinmynest · 3 years

Text

The Next Move - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: So this takes place between episode three and four of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It deters from cannon a little but I tried to bring it back. Also this isn’t a romantic pairing... at least, not yet.

Word Count: 1.8 K

Notes/Warnings: Attitude and Sass. Mentions of nightmares and dream violence, drinking. I don't think there are any show spoilers in here but I’ll tag it with spoiler tags just in case.

Masterlist

Sharron pulled up to the country Italian home. She parked in the driveway and paused before looking to the three men in her car. “She’s not going to be happy we are here and she’s really not going to be happy when she sees it’s you guys so, maybe don’t talk.” Sharron unfastened her seatbelt and swiftly got out of the car.

They looked at each other before following her up to the quaint little house.

Bucky noticed how Sharron was smiling and looking way too casual.

As if she read his mind she looked back at him, Sam and Zemo and said, in an erie sing-song voice. “Look like you're happy to be here.”

Zemo smiled immediately and Bucky wished he hadn’t seen it. Smiling Zemo was creepy.

Still, he fixed his expression from cautious to pleasant and nodded to Sam who grinned back at him.

This was ridiculous.

Sharron rapped her knuckles five times on the wood frame of the screen door.

“Solo minuto!” A voice from inside the house called in Italian.

They could hear footsteps heading towards the door.

A girl appeared into the hallway holding a bowl and spoon, she hadn’t looked at her front porch yet but froze mid bite when she did.

She locked eyes with Sharron and let her spoon clank back into the bowl. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head and began to turn around.

Sharron knocked again, “Wait, Y/N, please! This is important. I’m calling in a favor.”

Y/N stopped and let her shoulders drop with an exhale. “You only have one left. You sure you wanna use it?”

“I’m sure.”

Y/N straightened her spine and made her way to the door. She unlocked it and held an arm out, gesturing for them to all come in. When she closed the screen door she also closed and locked the front door, making the hallway dark. She pushed past all of them and headed for the living room.

When she made it to the drink cart she turned on Sharron. “ I have two rules Sharron. Two!” She opened a decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a tall glass. “You broke them both and you brought him with you. Of all people, Sharron!”

None of the three men knew who she was referring to.

Sharron nodded. “I know. And you know that I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t important.”

“And why deliver them yourself, huh? You’re doing pretty well out in Madripoor, I hear so why leave?” She finally took a drink.

“Y/N, please if you’d just let me explain-”

Y/N hissed at the sting of the liquor. “I have to move now! I finally have a good client base here and a house I’m actually comfortable in and now I have to leave. Why? Because you broke rule number two.”

Sam leaned into Bucky, “Wonder what the rules are.” He mumbled.

“The rules” She cut in, “Are that one: you call me first. I don’t really do drop in’s. And two: you don’t show up in the daytime.”

Sam nodded. Yeah, they’d broken those rules. “Look, I don’t know who you are but-”

“I know you don’t but the real question is do either of you?” Y/N crossed her arms and looked between Bucky and Zemo.

Suddenly, Bucky realized that she looked familiar but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t place her face.

Zemo took in a breath of subtle epiphany, “Y/N. Y/N Ross, right?”

Y/N’s face soured but she nodded.

Zemo turned to Bucky. “She’s the one who let the two of us meet for the first time.”

He still didn’t recognize her.

“I did my job. You tricked everyone in the building.” She argued.

“This is true.” He nodded with no signs of remorse.

Y/N looked to Bucky then to Sharron. “Why are you here?”

Sharron explained everything. Looking for the serum, finding the doctor before running for their lives, the Power Broker, the Flag-Smashers, all of it. “They need the next move and I don’t have it.” Sharron finished.

By now everyone had settled into a chair or onto one of the couches.

“The next move being?” She nudged the conversation forward.

“We need to get in contact with Karli.” Sam spoke up.

“I don’t have a way to contact her. I don’t deal with people like that.” Y/N said plainly.

“You have contact with people much worse than her.” Bucky guessed. “Which means someone you know has contact with her.”

Y/N studied Bucky for a moment while she decided how to respond.

Sharron cut in before Y/N had the chance to start another argument, “You know a lot of people, Y/N. Surely someone can get them to her.”

Y/N looked at Sharron for the millionth time. “You’re really willing to stick your neck out for these guys, huh?’

Sharron nodded.

Y/N finally relented and sighed.

The trio visibly relaxed. She was going to help.

“How long do you need to stay here?”

“As long as you can give us.” Sharron said.

“Three days. I’ll have to be gone after that.”

“Three days then.” Sam agreed for everyone.

* * * * * * *

Y/n sat in her desk chair in front of half a dozen computer monitors and holographic screens. She sat and worked there for hours. Reaching out to whoever she could toget this task done for Sharron and she’d made it clear that she was only doing it for her.

Bucky and Sam sat in the dining room watching her from a distance.

“Do you remember her at all?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head. “She looks familiar but...not really.”

Sharron brought the two of them a cup of coffee, went back for her own and joined them at the table. “Y/N worked at the Joint Counter Terrorism Center in Berlin. Her uncle is Agent Ross, who took her in after her parents died during the battle of New York. She supervised Barnes when he was detained. It was her job to make sure he ate, had water...and she was also in charge of approving who made contact with him. Zemo slipped in and she only realized something was wrong when she looked through the small window and saw him reading the words from that book.”

Bucky looked back at Zemo who was reading on the couch.

“She didn’t know what to do so she ran to find me. In the chaos, she ended up near the cafes where you- or not you,” She looked to Bucky, “Came stalking towards her.”

Bucky got a sinking feeling in his gut. “I don’t remember her.”

“Because she wasn’t your target. You’d been given a different directive. She stood in your way, she told me that she hoped to possibly stall you a bit.” Sharron huffed a single chuckle. “She’s got guts if anything.”

“What did I do?” Bucky felt that familiar guilt creeping up.

“The Soldier,” Sharron specified, “Threw her through a wall.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He felt like he should remember that.

Sam wanted to console him, to remind Bucky that he and the soldier were two different people, but he knew it wouldn’t change how Bucky felt.

“She later helped me steal the shield and your wings.”

“And that’s why she’s on the run.” Sam realized, “Same as you.”

Sharron nodded.

“So why is she here in Italy? Why not Madripoor?” Sam asked.

“Because she hates big cities!” Y/N called from the other room.

Sharron chuckled and Sam looked around, shocked that she was listening.

* * * * * * * *

Later that night Bucky jolted up from a nightmare, this one about Y/N. He was back in Berlin where Zemo had read the words to him and he came up on her in the cafe. Only this time he shot her. That’s what made him wake up.

He silent padded to the kitchen in hope of getting a glass of water. When his bare feet hit the cold tile he noticed the faint sound of the tapping of a keyboard. He turned the corner and from the doorway saw Y/N still at her computer.

“You’re up late.” She said without looking up.

“Have you been working this whole time?” Bucky asked, turning back to get his glass of water.

“No,” She called to him. “I watched two hours of t.v. around midnight.”

Bucky smirked at that. He returned and pulled up a chair near her desk. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” She yawned.

Bucky sat in silence as he studied everything she was doing. She was in several dark web chats -in multiple languages- with users he didn’t know. All while simultaneously running tracer programs and reviewing satellite images.

She worked for nearly a half hour before she finally spoke again. “So what woke you up?”

Bucky shook his head. “I was thirsty.”

“It’s none of my business, sorry.” She knew he was lying.

“Where will you move to?” He changed the subject.

She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I’m looking at moving to Koh Chang.”

Bucky nodded but felt like it was his fault that she had to uproot and leave.

“But it’s time to move anyways. I was getting too comfortable. Besides I think I’m nearing the ‘escape to a tropical island’ stage of my life.” She said with a grin.

“I-” Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe he was actually making some progress but either way he needed to say something, “I’m sorry for what I did to you... in Berlin.”

“I know.” She stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry for being so cold. I’ve been told I have a bad attitude.” She mocked herself.

Bucky chuckled but sombered pretty quickly when he noticed a scar on her shoulder. “Did I do that?”

Y/N followed his gaze, “Yeah,”

As hard as it was to hear, he appreciated that she was honest and didn’t seem to pity him.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated.

“You don’t have to be.”

He looked up at her, finally tearing his eyes away from the mark he’d unknowingly left on her.

Y/N shrugged. “I let him in. If anything I should be apologizing to you.”

“Lets just call it even, then.” He offered a weak smile.

She took it and returned one. She took a breath to say something when her computer made a soft chime. She whipped her head over and exhaled. “Gotcha. She’s in Riga, Latvia.”

Bucky sat up. They were getting closer.

Y/N stood from her sat and with a swipe of her hand through the air, all of her computers went black. “It’s time for me to get some sleep. I hope finding her helps you find some peace.”

He nodded and looked down at his empty glass. “Thank you.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder as she passed. “I know I was a bit bitter when you first showed up but...most of that was towards Zemo.” She let her hand fall and softened her voice. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Bucky sat there as she walked away. No one had ever said that to him before.

He went back to his room and pulled out his little notebook. He wrote her name down on the list of people he needed to make amends with and then immediately ran a line through it.

Then, for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully.

* * * * * * * *

Forever Tags:

@cassiopeiassky

@sgtbxckybxrnes

@itsanerdlife

@beccaanne814

@tanelle83

@artemis521

@elaacreditava

@feelmyroarrrr

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@peggycarter-steverogers

#Bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #sam wilson #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #sharron carter #helmut zemo #iwillbeinmynest #kate wrote a thing

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lionydoorin · 1 year

Note

I know I've asked this before but do you have any more Tara headcanons? :3

yes yes :3

tara hates phone calls. despises them. she almost always interacts on the phone through text and if someone calls her she either has a panic attack or needs a solid minute to recompose herself before she answers. specially if the phone's not on silent mode — if the phone rings, she's immediately shaking.

even though she's pretty much in denial and wants to pretend nothing ever happened, and even if she tries to "be normal" at all costs, tara never misses the time to take her medications. specially her antipsychotics, once the amber hallucinations start.

she needs to take ambien to sleep. maybe she's a little bit dependant on them. if she doesn't go to sleep right away and the medication starts giving its effect, she'll mostly "sleepwalk" to sam's room and have the funniest or deepest conversations with her sister before she passes out.

steals sam's shirts and jackets to go to uni constantly, to a point where they always end up in her drawer.

she also steals chad's clothes a lot, and swoons in the euphoric feeling they give her.

she loves indie films and is also the type to write reviews on her letterboxd account. she doesn't talk about them a lot, though. she used to talk about them with amber. nowadays, sometimes she talks about them with mindy. but she definitely tells sam.

tara expresses herself through art a lot. after the attack, it took her a while to draw again, and sometimes her new sketchbook is filled with tear stains as she tries to maintain a grip on the pencil. no matter how shaky they come out, the drawings are still beautiful, though.

she's the worst at taking care of herself, and has to be reminded to drink water constantly. she set reminders on her phone to drink a cup per hour.

hits her friends with her cane on a daily basis.

her anger issues definitely got better after therapy, but tara still lashes out constantly. after her episodes, she feels awful, but no one blames her nor gets mad about them; they know it doesn't come from a place of selfishness, nor that she meant to hurt them.

the worst at any kind of game. mario kart? she hits the corners often and will be placed last every time. doesn't understand monopoly nor will try to understand. will guess things wrong in clue every time no matter how obvious it is. she's still one competitive little guy, though.

will have days where she complains about physical touch and doesn't want to be babied but will crawl into sam's bed at night and snuggle with her like a baby kitten :3

#ask #autism swagger #tara carpenter #scream #ma talks scream

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shallow-seas-we-sail · 3 years

Text

“Okay!” Alex bellows and claps her hands together, “Next game! You gotta partner up!”

Nia scoots in close around the coffee table and pushes into Brainy’s side, while Kelly settles down on the arm of the chair that Alex is sitting in and cards a hand through her hair.

“I’m with Lena!” Sam claims across the room from the kitchen and runs over with two precariously balanced glasses of wine in one hand, plopping down next to Lena on the couch.

Kara, hunched over in front of the fridge, stands up quickly and lets out an indignant scoff, “That’s not fair! Lena is my partner by default. House rules.” Kara closes the door and jams her finger into the scoreboard stuck the front of the fridge. “See!”

“She’s my best friend!” Kara and Sam say in unison, and Alex swears she can see her sister’s eyes pulse with a burst of hot anger and sinks down into her chair a little further.

“I am the property of no man.” Lena counters, which causes an elbow to jab her in the side from a smirking Sam.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sam says conspiratorially under her breath, and Lena snorts into her wine glass as she brings it to her lips.

Kara’s brow crinkles as she makes her way over to group and takes a spot on the floor across from the couch, “Fine, I guess I’m the game master.”

Kelly glances down at Alex, who gives a small grimace as she reaches into her pocket and removes her phone, “Uh, okay. So I-..”

“Not going as planned?” Kelly dips her head and whispers into her girlfriend's ear.

“Nope,” Alex reponds under her breath with a pop.

Nia clears her throat and gives Alex a pointed look from across the room and motioning with her eyes discreetly towards the couch.

Alex opens her mouth to speak, but realizes she is taking too long and juts her hand with her phone out to Kara, “You gotta read the questions and keep score.”

Kara eyes her sister suspiciously and she plucks the phone from her hand. She scrolls through the screen for a few seconds before glancing up and looking around the room.

“Really?” Kara deadpans.

Alex tries her best to hide her pained expression, so she picks up her beer bottle and presses it to her lips and tilts her head back with an emphatic thumbs up.

This is going to be a disaster.

Kara rolls her eyes and places the phone down on the table and picks up a pen and paper to keep score, “Okay, so, you gotta guess the answers based on what you know about your partner.”

“Like the Newlywed game?” Nia asks, perking up.

Brainy tilts his head, taking in his girlfriends information, “Yes. Exactly like the Newlywed game, we discussed this earli-.. OOF! ” He is effectively silenced by a sharp elbow in his side. Brainy clears his throat and forces a smile, “continue” he whines through a breath and raises his hand weakly, relinquishing the floor back to Kara.

“What is the Newlywed game?” Lena asks, arching a quizzical eyebrow.

Sam waves her off, “Don’t mind her. She has never had a stay-home-from-school-sick day and watched daytime tv.”

Lena scoffs and presses hand to her chest in offense, “I would never watch daytime tv.”

Sam turns her hands over in a so-there gesture, “See.”

Kara smiles softly, because of course Lena doesn’t watch daytime tv. Though, she does remember the one time she had to convince a hungover and couch-bound Lena not to order Lifelock just because “Jane Rizzoli said so.” Lena had relented only after Kara made her a mimosa to nurse her headache and sang “Take my identity as a Luthor, take all my money too, for I can’t help falling in lo-..” until Lena’s bright laughter had cut her off and filled the room.

“Hey,” Alex leans forward, snapping her fingers in front of her sister's face, “ground control to Major dork. Let’s go!”

Kara shakes her head, loosening the memory from her thoughts, but a floating warmth remains in the center of her chest. She adjusts her glasses and smiles in Lena’s direction, who has a single finger pressed against her lips and a curious look.

“Wha-.. oh, yeah, right. So, I ask a question, and both of you come up with an answer. If the answers match, you get a point.”

Everyone nods agreeably, and Kara lifts her glass, and takes a long pull of the amber, alien liquid inside, “First question, what is your partner’s favorite movie?”

Alex and Kelly raise their hands in unison, “Terminator 2!”

Alex pumps her fist and gives her girlfriend a high-five, “Yes! And yours is....” Alex snaps her fingers, hoping that perhaps it will jumpstart her brain, “honestly, anything black and white. She’s a sucker for classics.”

Kelly nods and presses a quick kiss to the crown of Alex’s head.

Brainy’s favorite is ‘any movie with Keanu Reeves’, which causes a ten minute reprieve of the game as he launches into nearly a film-thesis-length speech about the transgender allegory of The Matrix until Nia clasps her hand over his mouth.

“Babe, I love that you know that, but just answer the question.” she says.

“Ah, yes. Nia Nal’s favorite movie is the Harry Potter series. She is a Gryffindor and her Patronus is a dapple grey stallion.”

Kara tallies two points each under their score column, and taps her pen against the table with growing impatience as Sam stares intently at Lena.

“God, you had the VHS box set in college. I can picture it on your shelf.. fuck, I can’t remember it!” Sam throws her hands up in frustration.

“Titanic.” Kara says under her breath to no one, and averts her gaze down the point sheet in front her, because how could Sam not know that? Best friend, her alien ass.

“Yours was that obscure French one, Jeux d’enfant,” Lena laughs, “God, how many times did you watch that? I swear you just wanted to impress that French exchange girl. What was her name?”

Sam lets go of a breath, “Esmée.” she says, dreamily, “I could be living in the French countryside right now as a vineyard wife.”

Lena gives Sam a playful swat against the arm, “What’s yours, Kara?” Sam asks between playful attacks and fits of laughter from her friend.

“Working Girl,” Kara and Lena say in unison, and Lena’s laughter dies down, “she always cries at the end.” she says, punctuating with a wink at Kara.

“All of the hair in that movie is just so horrifically 80’s. It would make anyone cry.” Kara counters as she marks down a one under Lena and Sam score column.

The game continues, and Alex and Kelly are so finely tuned that Kara reminds herself to tell her sister to wife Kelly quickly, because she has already started a mental catalogue of what she is going to need for their wedding.

“Favorite TV show?”

“Game of Thrones!”, “Greys Anatomy!”

“Worst handwriting?”

“Alex. She writes like she finished medical school.”

Brainy and Nia seem to find a rhythm, even if Brainy keeps going on tangents about each of his answers.

“Her favorite musical artist is Taylor Swift, but not 1989 era Taylor. She considers that album too popsugar polished, especially since it is widely believed that she played up her so-called ‘beef’ with fellow singer, Katy Perry.”

Kara’s scoring has started on a sideways slant, because every time she ends up on Sam and Lena, she finds herself drinking more and tempering down her annoyance at Sam who can’t seem answer one fucking question right.

Kara instead has started a running tally in the corner of the score sheet, checking off each answer as she mentally screams.

Lena’s favorite junk food? Big belly burger. Check . Silliest pet peeve? Lena hates fliers and leaflets because “They are a waste of our time and trees, Kara. Honestly, if one more follower of Rao tries to shove one in my hand, I’m going to shove a redwood tree up his ass.” Check.

Lena’s favorite color is purple. Check. Lena hates salmon. Check. Lena doesn’t like tequila, but if she is buzzed enough will take a shot of it, but only with lick of salt and a lime as a chaser. Check. Lena hates her brother. Triple Check. Lena takes her coffee black. Check. And Lena always looks like she stepped out of a noir film with a dark shade of red on her lips that Kara is sure, ‘so sure’, would not smudge if she was kissed. Check (tbd).

Kara is throwing her head back, finishing off the liquid in her glass, burning and hot in the back of her throat when Sam answers ‘Maleficent’ for what Disney character Lena would be.

“Oh my god,” Kara shakes her head, “how are you so bad at this?”

Sam seems taken aback and looks between Lena and Kara, “Excuse me?”

“This.” Kara gestures towards Lena and then drunk and loose over the scribbled score sheet in front of her, “You haven’t gotten one answer right. Lena is carrying your team. You,” Kara sits up straight, trying to center herself but sways as she points an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction, “suck.”

Sam looks around the room. Kelly and Nia are both suddenly very interested in their phones, while Alex’s eyes have grown wide, wondering briefly if her sister is going to rear up off the floor and throttle their friend. Lena is staring at Kara with a bewildered look from over the rim of her wine glass while Brainy’s searching eyes move across the room from each person, trying to form the proper reaction to this level of intensiveness.

“Relax, Danvers. It’s just a game.” Sam scoffs as she leans forward to pick up her wine glass from the table.

“No!” Kara shouts a little too loudly, and brings her hand down on the table, splintering a corner and nearly rattling the drinks off of it, “No.”

“Kara,” Kelly leans forward, and with her best therapist voice, tries to defuse the situation, “perhaps we should just take a break from the game, and get some wate-..”

“No. Anyone with eyes knows that Lena is Moana. She would cross oceans and fight Gods and do whatever it took to do the right thing.” Kara says resolutely towards Kelly, and then turns back to Sam, “Lena is Moana. She is a Queen and she is good, and she isn’t fucking ‘Maleficent’!” Kara punctuates with air quotes.

Sam’s eyes grow wide, and she settles a steely glare on Kara, “Fine. You wanna do this?”

“You’re damn right I do.” Kara bites back, pushing her sleeves up her arms, “Lets go.”

“Well, fuck me I guess.” Kelly mutters under her breath as she sits back, defeated. Alex cautiously leans forward, and takes her phone from in front of her sister.

Brainy narrows his eyes and glances between Kara and Sam, “Am I to believe they are fighting for Lena’s honor?”

Nia waves a hand frantically in Brainy's face, “Just.. shush.” she says squeezing her eyes shut, “Shhh.”

Sam finishes the last of the wine in her glass, and juts out her arm in Lena’s direction, a silent demand for a refill. Lena rears back and plucks the wine glass out of her friends hand at the stem, “Oh kay, then.” and cautiously moves from the couch towards the kitchen.

Kara and Sam’s eyes never leave the others as Lena scoots past.

Alex clears her throat and lets a silent prayer float up into the rafters of her sisters loft that Kara has home insurance in the event Sam ends up dangling over the fire escape.

“Describe your partner in one word.” Alex says, and glances up from her phone.

“Bitch.”

“Good.”

Kara nearly digs her fingers into the hardwood floor beneath her.

“How are we gonna keep score?” Nia whispers over the table to Alex.

Alex grits her teeth at the realization and shoots the woman in the kitchen a sympathetic look, mouthing “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no.” Lena shakes her head, “No.” she says, pointedly.

Brainy perks up, “So Lena must determine the answer, and then deem one worthy of her affections.”

Nia smacks him in the chest.

A pair of bright blue and honeyed eyes look towards Lena, who is gaping in the kitchen with one quaking hand holding a scotch tumbler and a wine bottle in the other.

“You must decree it so, Lena. Who gets the point?” Brainy bellows enthusiastically, and then flips a single kernel of popcorn into his mouth with a smile.

“Where the hell did you get popcorn?” Nia asks, dumbfounded.

“Inconsequential!” Brainy declares, shoveling a fistful into his mouth.

Lena swallows hard, and dips her head towards the living room, “Kara.”

“HA!” Kara barks, and raises her hand, which is promptly high-fived by Brainy.

Sam cranes her neck side to side and shakes out her arms, “Again.”

Alex glances up at Kelly, “Is this how I die?”

Kelly gives a noncommittal shrug, and leans over her girlfriend's shoulder, scrolling through the questions on her phone, “What is your partner’s worst habit?”

“Biting her nails when she is nervous.” Sam says, glancing at Lena as she sits, who promptly pulls her thumb away from her mouth.

“Running on three hours of sleep and thinking of a large, black coffee as a meal.” Kara counters.

All eyes land on Lena, leaving her drumming heart echoing in her ears and the steady crunchcrunchcrunch of popcorn filling the room, “Nails. It is horribly unsanitary.” she says with a wince.

Kara curses in Kryptonian under her breath, and Sam sits back on the couch, arms crossed with a smug smile plastered across her face.

Nia raises up on her knees, and reaches across the table, quickly snatching the phone from Alex’s hand, “My turn!” she declares and scrolls for a few moments, “Ideal vacation?”

“Beach, getting her cute, pale ass burnt in the sun with a margarita in her hand.” Sam waggles her eyebrows, and nudges Lena with her elbow.

Lena sways and keeps her eyes set on a single thing; the door, her only escape from this current hell on earth.

“Swiss alps. Skiing and just relaxing in the lodge,” Kara answers with a smile that shifts with a distant look, “bundled in some cozy sweater, hands curled around a cup of Irish coffee. She’d probably read a book and enjoy the quiet of the falling snow. She’d doze off on the couch by the fire, and she’d look so at peace and warm that you wouldn’t want to move her, but you know she’d complain in the morning about the knots in her neck, an-..”

“Okay,” Sam raises her hand, “we get it. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Lena turns her head and looks at Kara, who gives her a soft smile, one that she returns.

“Oh, you gotta give Kara that one.” Kelly says, propping her head up in her hand, nearly swooning.

Alex takes in her girlfriend’s dreamy reaction and looks around cluelessly, “I’ve lost her.”

“Whatever,” Sam rolls her eyes, “you’ve clearly never seen her in a bikini.”

“Oh, snap!” Brainy bounces in his spot.

Nia places a calming hand on his shoulder, “Not the right time, babe.”

“Yeah,” Lena concedes with a sheepish smile that she masks behind the tumbler at her lips, “you get that one.”

Kara straightens and gives a quick nod and bright smile towards Lena, who gives a subtle wink.

Brainy flips up fingers on his hand, “So, that makes two for Kara and one for Sam. At what score does Lena determine the winner?”

“Best of five?” Nia offers, and Lena tips her glass towards her friend, “Five is good.”

Nia hands the phone back to Alex, who smiles as she lands on the next question, “Who is your partner's hero?”

Lena nearly spit-takes her scotch, but instead dribbles it down her chin and shirt.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn't Reign, that’s for sure.” Sam mutters under her breath. Lena gives her friend a sympathetic smile, and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, I’ve got this,” Kara says, pushing up on her knees so she is nearly level with Lena on the couch. She clears her throat, and pulls back her hair into a tight ponytail, “Supergirl may have saved me, but Kara Danvers,” she gives a sly smirk, donning her best Lena impression, “you are my hero.”

Lena pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and forces a tight smile, “Oh, so you can do me now? You think you’re so clever.”

“Oh my god,” Sam breaths out under breath, and looks over to Alex, “do they even hear themselves? Are they always this stupid?”

Alex closes her eyes and gives a pained nod, “ No, and always.”

Kara quirks an eyebrow and shuffles on her knees closer to the couch, “Am I wrong?” she asks, all the alcohol having burned out of her system. She is simply gloating for the sake of gloating at this point.

Plus she likes the flush that is creeping up Lena’s neck, and settling in her cheeks.

Nia leans over towards Brainy, “Now you can ‘ oh snap.’ ” she whispers.

Alex puts down her phone, “Sorry, Sam. It goes to Kara in the best of five.”

Brainy suddenly stiffens, “Wait,” he turns fully towards Nia, “this is not going according to our original plan.” he says, conspiratorially.

“Ya think?”

“Lena was supposed to partner with Kara, so that Kara would gradually be led into her feelings for Lena. Sam has co-opted this entire operation!” he hisses, “every scenario that I ran had Lena and Kara confessing their feelings to each other with 98.6% success rate, leading to their eventual coupling.”

“Does she always have that lovesick puppy thing going on with her face when she looks at you?” Sam says out of the side of her mouth.

“Samantha!” Lena admonishes.

“What?” Kara’s gaze shifts from Lena to the woman beside her, and a warm pulse flickers behind her eyes.

“Oh, chill with the theatrics. I already handed your ass to you once, I can do it again.” Sam says a little drunk and with far too much bravado.

A round ‘WOAH’s’ quickly moves throughout the loft. Kara is on her feet, along with Alex.

“I’m going to say it. Lena must know how Kara feels. Their future depends on it.” Brainy says resolutely, and stands, taking in a deep breath.

“Brainy, don’t!” Nia pleads, pulling on her boyfriend's arm, trying to reel in the control of a situation that has clearly lost it.

Kara takes a confrontational step forward and cocks her head to the side, “You need a flight back to Metropolis?” she says raising a fist, “Oh? You have a layover? Then I’ve got your connecting right here.” Kara mocks, raising her other fist.

“How about I dangle you over the fire escape and drop you off the side of a building again?” Sam sneers.

“HEY! WOAH!” Lena stands abruptly, positioning herself between the blonde and brunette, “We are all friends here. What is going on?!”

“She started it!” Sam and Kara say in unison, pointing an accusatory finger at the other.

“Lena! You must know that Kar-..” but Brainy is effectively silenced by his girlfriend’s hand clasping tightly around his mouth.

“Shut it.” Nia says curtly, and pulls Brainy back down the floor with her.

Sam closes her eyes for a moment and shakes her head, “It’s just a game. Why are you so bent out of shape about it?”

Kara scoffs, “Because you claim to be Lena’s best friend, and you don’t know a damn thing about her!”

“Defensive much?” Sam counters, and arches an eyebrow as her eyes flit to Lena, “I know more than you think.”

“Sam.” Alex warns, quietly.

Sam scoffs, and rolls her eyes, “Watch this.” she says, raising a finger, “I’m going to take care of this in less time than it took you dummies to set up this game night coup.”

An offended noise rumbles in the back of Alex’s throat, “Wh-..what are you talking about?”

Sam cranes her head back, “Ugh, you’re what? The director of a covert government agency? Kelly has a Phd in psychology, so she should really be better at this. Nia is...” Sam glances down to the woman on the floor.

“A journalist.” Nia finishes.

“A journalist, and Brainy is what, a twelfth generation Texas Instruments calculator?”

Brainy’s mouth falls open, and he lets out an offended, high pitched whine.

Sam turns her attention back to Kara, “You wanna be Lena’s partner?”

“More than anything.” Kara grinds out.

“Oh my god. Grant me the serenity.” Sam mumbles under her breath, “Lena, you have what? An IQ of 168?”

Lena straightens slightly, and tilts her head, “180, why?”

“Because you’re the dumbest genius I know.”

Lena’s mouth drops open, “I beg your pardon?”

“And Kara” Sam glances over Lena’s shoulder, “I bet you learned calculus at seven.”

“Five.” Kara says, the anger draining from her tone.

“And you probably know all about quantum entanglement.” Sam says with a smirk, which causes Lena to turn around with a surprised look.

“You do?!” Lena asks, affronted.

“Pfft, of course she does. She just likes to hear all the words that come out of your dumb, pretty face.” Sam says with a tone that leaves no room for an argument, “Do you know how long I had to hear Lena go on and on about your stupid, cute, dumbfounded face after that conversation?”

“You think I’m stupid?” Kara asks dumbly.

“You think I’m pretty?” Lena says, giving a hopeful smile.

Sam cuts her eyes to Alex, who raises a hand, effectively cutting her off before she has the chance to ask the question, “Yes, it is like this all the time.”

Sam sighs, “Look, I’m going to ask you both rapid fire questions. You need to answer at the same time.”

“Why?” Lena asks, glancing over her shoulder.

“Because we ,” Sam gestures vaguely around the living room, “can no longer live like this. Just humor me, okay?”

“Fine.” Lena says sharply and turns her attention back to Kara, “Ready?”

Kara gives a resolute nod.

“Okay, great. Favorite color?” Sam starts.

“Navy blue!”

“Purple.”

Lena and Kara both smile at each other, and Kara gives her a playful poke in the shoulder, “Nice.”

“Favorite junk food?”

“Eliza’s chocolate pecan pie, but that is only rivaled by Noonan’s sticky buns.”

“Those little scones from Dublin.”

Lena’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, “God, those are good.”

Kara leans forward and winks, “I’ll make a trip soon.”

Brainy narrows his eyes, “This is actually quite clever. I did not take this into account during my scenarios.”

Kelly, Alex, and Nia nod in agreement and continue watching in rapt awe.

“Who is the little spoon?”

“Lena.”

“Me.”

Sam pinches her chin, and taps her index finger against her lips, studying the two women in front of her, “Anything clicking yet for you two?” When she is met with resounding silence, she continues, “No? Great. This isn’t painful to watch at all.”

“What song best describes the other?”

“Where You Are.”

“Glass Vase Cello Case”

Kelly throws up her hands, and Alex sinks down into her chair, nearly collapsing onto the floor, “Oh my god, from the movie?!” she groans.

“I didn’t know Kara was so emo.” Nia whispers towards Alex.

“We went to Warped Tour three years straight,” Alex says, pulling herself back up into her chair, “It was a whole phase.”

“It wasn’t a phase.” Kara says, keeping her gaze fixed on Lena and taking a tentative step forward.

Sam quirks an eyebrow and takes a step back, “Phew, it’s like a sexual tension black hole,” she glances over her shoulder at the audience behind her, “how do you guys deal with this?”

“You get used to it.” Nia says nonchalantly, throwing some popcorn into her mouth.

“Right, so last question,” Sam claps her hands together and rubs them together, “are you two in love with each other?”

The collective gasp nearly sucks the remaining air that Lena and Kara haven’t already burned up out of the room.

“Yes.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Great!” Sam chirps, “My work here is done.”

There are a few beats of silence, and Lena blinks hard, breaking the moment, and bringing Kara back to reality along with her.

Kara’s hands shoot up and clasp over her mouth tightly, skewing her glasses, eyes wide behind the sideways frames

Lena lets out a bubble in incredulous laughter and shakes her head in disbelief, “Oh.”

“Ho-..how did you do that?” Alex asks.

“Sometimes you just gotta light a fire under their asses.” Sam chuckles, and smacks Lena firmly on the backside, the impact sending her forward and into Kara, who catches her with steady hands on her hips as Lena’s arms wrap around her neck

Brainy is the first to stand and offers his hand to Nia, assisting her to her feet, “This is our cue to leave.”

“Mhmm.” Alex hums in agreement, swatting Kelly against the leg, “Let's get out of here.”

Sam scoots past the two intertwined women and gives a sly wink as she passes, “This was a fuckin’ blast. You two have a great night.”

“Oh, they will. There is a 100% probability they will be engaging in a copious amount of lovemaking tonight.” Brainy says, gathering his and Nia’s jackets from the coat rack by the door.

Alex’s face scrunches up, “Ew. Copious?”

“Nice.” Sam says, opening the front door.

Brainy waves his hand towards nothing in particular as he steps into the hallway, “It will be an entire thing in the future. Any available surface will be a target for their insatiable sexual appetite: work desks, kitchen counters, the bathroom stall at Al’s, Alex’s bed.”

Alex turns on her heels in the threshold of the door, “My bed, Kara?!” she shouts as Kelly pulls her back, and leans around Alex, closing the door and muffling her girlfriend's curses.

“I-..I haven’t done anything yet?” Kara says confused, looking back at Lena, who is barely containing her laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Lena loosens a hand from around Kara’s neck, and waves in between them, laughing “It’s just... have we always been that clueless?”

Kara snorts out her laughter, “I mean... I guess so?” she says with a growing, bright smile.

“Well,” Lena says quietly, bringing her hand up and removing Kara’s glasses, “I’m glad we figured it out.”

Kara hums her agreement, and kneads her fingertips firmly into Lena’s hips, and walks them around her lower back, pulling her in closer, “So now what? I heard something about copious lovemaking ” she says in her best Brainy impression.

Lena tosses the glasses behind her, somewhere forgotten on the couch, and wraps her arms around Kara’s neck, absently twirling soft, blonde hair around her fingers, “How about,” she presses a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek, who turns her head in an attempt to capture Lena’s lips, “you explain quantum entanglement to me.”

Kara drops her head to Lena’s shoulder, and sways in their embrace, groaning her displeasure into the fabric of her shirt before lifting her head and flipping her hair dramatically away from her face with a pout.

“Alexa, play Warped Tours greatest hits.”

#supercorp #supercorp fic #crack!fic #anyway here is two idiots being idiots #supergirl #sam is the real mvp here #this is also on my ao3 #but i wanted to x post it here

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Thirty: The One With His View

Warnings: Weight loss

Word Count: 2376

Bucky's POV

Bucky sat in his bed with his arm laying detached beside him. His eyes stared down at the photo of Hunter and Lily on the beach, Joey there with them. His glassed over eyes focused on that bright beaming smile on the blonde's lips. One he hadn't seen in person for over a month now. One that he only saw in his dreams at night, or in the photos on his phone.

Scattered around his apartment were printed photos of her that he had taken. The day after she broke up with him he had them printed out, just to have her in his hands once more. Her bright eyes crinkled at the sides as he took sneaky photos of her, ones he only showed her the night he took them, to avoid her from dodging him. She always hated having her photo taken, but he just couldn't help himself.

She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He ran a shaky hand through his grown out hair, tugging gently on the roots, just as she always did. He ran those same hands down the front of his face, his overgrown facial hair scratching the callouses that he earned over the years. Glancing down at his phone, the brunette sighed. May 3rd. Her birthday was tomorrow. He could only take a guess how she was celebrating it.

Her and Hunter probably sitting on the couch with Chinese, Gen and Rose occupying the other sofa as a cheesy rom-com played on the TV. When Hunter went to bed, she'd probably change it to a horror movie. He never understood how she enjoyed them so much. To Bucky, horror movies were something he could never get on board with, yet Lily adored them so much, he would sit there with her. He would typically end up curled into her side, wincing whenever there was a loud noise from the screen.

But she'd never say anything about it. She'd just chuckle and call him a "big ol' baby", and kiss the top of his head before throwing more popcorn in her mouth.

Her favourite was The Nun. Bucky despised it. Whether it be her desensitization to it, or her strange love for things that made her yelp in fear, she would watch it so often. Eventually, Bucky actually opened his eyes for some of the more scary parts. But he always ended up curled into her side once more, breathing in her scent to sooth him. She'd never watch ones that were more so thriller based, the psychological ones that messed with peoples heads and typically involved person to person violence though. He knew she watched them alone, but wouldn't with Bucky.

Because he told her what they did to him mentally. So she didn't. Because his comfort was always her main priority, especially with his trauma.

The alarm on his phone blared, sending a jerk through his body. Glancing down, Bucky groaned. He had therapy in half an hour, which meant he had to leave now. He'd managed to dodge the conversations about Lily with his therapist, but the Doctor knew that. Which meant, sooner or later, she would pry and get him to open up about his heartbreak.

-----

"Lily was her name, right?" Dr. Raynor asked, tilting her head as she stared down the man across from her.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it." Bucky stated simply, readjusting in his seat on the couch.

"Mmm you said that a month ago. Then again three weeks ago. Then again two-"

"I get it."

Bucky knew that his luck would go against him. Of course Dr. Raynor would bring her up the day before her birthday. As her present sat heavy in his coat pocket. He'd carried it around with him for the past month, never letting it far from his sight. So much sat inside of the case, begging for her.

"She has a son. I have that here in the notes. You loved him, and even saw him as your own," the Doctor began, crossing her legs, "did you imagine having a family with her yourself, James?"

"We were a family already," he stated softly, voice cracking halfway through, "from the moment I first stayed at her house, we were a family."

"Let me rephrase," Dr. Raynor continued, tilting her head, "did you imagine having a child of your own with her?"

Yes. The answer was yes. He pictured it in his head whenever he saw her with Hunter, or pictures of her with Hunter when he was a baby. What Bucky would have given to be there for her then, to have been Hunter's father since birth. But he took what he could. Instead, he imagined her pregnant with his child. They'd talked about it briefly. Both agreeing they'd love to have a little girl, name her Stella, or Amelia, something classic. They even tossed Rebecca back and forth, for Bucky's sister. In the end they decided on Rose-Rebecca for a middle name instead. For a boy, they came up with Wyatt or Theo, with Steve as the middle name.

They'd imagine their home. Somewhere in the countryside, a large backyard for Hunter and their other kid. A dog or two, maybe even a cat. Lily wasn't fussy on the idea of cats, not their biggest fans. But Bucky always wanted one.

"You told me two months ago you planned on retiring," Dr. Raynor commented, pulling him out of his thoughts, "Was that to settle down with her? And start that family of your own?"

"Yes." He stated, voice loose and breathy.

"Did you end up following through with it?"

"Yes."

"How do you spend your days now?" she pushed, trying to get the truth out of him.

"I volunteer at the old folks home near my apartment," he answered honestly, sighing as he spoke, "Tony offered me a job at the tower but I'm not sure I want to take it."

"What was the job?"

"Talking to retired veterans, young and old." He stated softly, fiddling with his gloves.

"Does Lily know this?"

He shook his head. He'd debated calling her over the last few weeks. Wondering if she'd even pick up. He drove past her street once, before doubting himself and refusing to ever step foot near there again. Too much pain followed when he realized he wouldn't have anywhere to go on that street. He wasn't allowed back at her place, not after she told him to get out, and said goodbye. With her back to him.

"Have you had any contact with her son?"

"No. No, I won't do that to him," Bucky whispered, voice failing him, "I couldn't. He deserves happiness, and peace. It's not for me to contact him."

"And her sister, you said she was pregnant a while back," she continued, "what about her?" He shook his head again, prompting her to continue, "And...Gen. I think that was her name. Her best friend. Anything?"

Another shake of his head.

"Hand me your phone."

Bucky sighed and tossed the device over, watching the Doctor swiftly catch it and turn it on. Her eyes softened when she saw his lockscreen. Bucky stared down at his lap, knowing what she saw. On his lockscreen, Lily stood on a balcony, a grey suit jacket on and a white lace dress. The sun shined bright on her face as she leaned her head back, blonde hair dancing in the wind. Her smile was slight, as she enjoyed the feeling of the sun. He took it when they were at his apartment in October, on a particularly warm day. She raided his closet and took the jacket.

She still had it.

"She's beautiful." Dr. Raynor stated, swiping up to unlock the phone. A tear fell down Bucky's cheek. His home screen was different, but still Lily.

Lily and Hunter were asleep on the couch, Joey curled at the base of the couch. Bucky had come over for dinner to find them like that. So he draped a blanket over the two and got to work on the food in the kitchen. Not daring to disturb the two. He always loved seeing her asleep. The stress lines he adored along her forehead and cheeks disappeared, her face was calm and supple. Her lips slightly parted slightly and eye lashes laid against her slightly flushed cheeks.

"Cute kid," Raynor commented, moving on to his messages, "You've ignored everyones texts James. Only Sam and Steve seem to be getting an answer from you. If you can even call it that."

"They mostly come over unannounced to my apartment," Bucky said gravely, shifting once again, "typically to force me into this exact same conversation we're having."

Tossing his phone back, the doctor sighed, "When did you realize you had fallen in love with her?"

"I couldn't tell you, Doc," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "there were so many times where I would just look at her and know. Know that she would have an unspoken power over me."

"Tell me more about her."

Bucky knew where to start. He began by talking about her appearance, all walls he had up disappearing after the doctor saw just how much he was still in love with her. He began with her hair. Describing it as something that he could play with for days on end. It was always soft and was bright and reminded him of the sun. Her eyes were a deep amber hazel with flecks of green in certain lights. Her skin was bright and boisterous, always seemingly full of life when he was around. Her nose was something that he could only describe as sculpted. A strong ridge with a dip near the top. Her lips were that of a love song. Soft and welcoming, seemingly molded to his own. A beautiful cupid's bow that had him longing to kiss her from the moment he saw her for the first time.

Her body was something Bucky could barely voice. A simple figure, dips and curves. Gentle stretch marks along the thicker parts, her hips, her thighs. Her stomach and waist was his favourite thing next to her hands. Her stomach had small marks along the bottom where she grew to carry Hunter. He would typically wake her up on weekends by kissing those marks, reminding her of the beauty. Her hands were gentle and calloused from years of hard work. But always so gentle, skilled fingers that would trace simple patterns along his skin and run through his hair.

He left out the explicits.

Her personality though. Bucky didn't know where to start. He was rendered speechless when he got to it. But he started with the dirtier parts. The harsher parts of her that he didn't always enjoy, but loved more than anything else. She was snappy, and had an affliction with everything being perfect. She was controlling, and never let him lead her through different things. Sometimes she wouldn't listen, and focus on that dark voice that plagued her head instead of listening to him. But she was kind. Kinder to him than anyone. She would sit him down some nights and point out all that she loved about him. She was warmhearted, and never let herself see the bad in people. Her mind was something that fascinated him beyond words. She was a quick thinker, always ready with a comeback or some fact he probably didn't need, but loved to hear anyways.

When he became coherent to his words again, he felt the warm tears flooding his cheeks rapidly. Something that only ever happened in the confines of his own apartment, away from everyone else. But this time, he spoke. Three simple words that shattered his heart.

"She was mine."

-----

Standing in his kitchen, Bucky used his flesh hand to mix the blueberries into the batter in the black mixing bowl on the counter. He wasn't sure what possessed him to make these today of all days, but he did.

The lock on his door turning made the brunette sigh. Steve or Sam, or both even, were here. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to get the peace and quiet he wanted for the day. Ignoring the struggle, Bucky poured the batter into circles on the skillet, smiling at the sizzle they made. Something Lily said was what he wanted. He watched intently, waiting for the bubbles to begin popping. When the door swung open, he chuckled. They figured it out.

"I told you to turn it that way first," Sam muttered to Steve as the two walked in, "but nooo Mr. America had to do it his way."

"Former, Mr. America." Steve corrected, shutting the door.

"And now Mr. Pain-in-my-ass." Bucky sighed, flipping the pancakes before turning to face the two men standing near his kitchen.

"Hey Buck," Steve smiled softly, walking forward, "How're you feeling?"

"Well it's 2 o'clock and cyborg is making pancakes. So either he's so old he's losing his mind, or he's not doing great." Sam grinned walking over to the counter and leaning on it.

"I've had a long month." Bucky smiled tightly, flipping the pancakes onto a plate beside him.

"You could call her." Steve offered, stealing a blueberry from a container.

"She doesn't want to talk to me." Bucky muttered, covering his pancakes in butter and icing sugar. Just as she used to in the mornings for him.

"You sure about that?" Sam whispered, eyes staring down Bucky.

Bucky shook his head and grabbed his utensils and orange juice before walking past the two into the living room. He sat down, turning on the TV and trying his hardest to ignore the heavy stares of his best friends from the other end of the room. He knew they were here for a reason. It could be the fact it was her birthday and Bucky had plans to make it special for her a month ago. Or it could be to pester him. Or even if something happened they won't tell him. The last was his best guess.

"I'm guessing by your annoying stares," Bucky sighed, turning his attention to the men, "You're not here for pancakes."

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

How Long

Summary: The call comes sometime after midnight, pulling you instantly alert from your deep sleep. Your phone is set to “Do Not Disturb,” and only one number is programmed as an exception.

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers (Nomad Steve Rogers, Nomad Captain America)

Word Count: 2201

Warnings: Sexual Content, a dash of angst, splash of consensual roughness.

18+ ONLY.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for advice, fix-its, and flails. Thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield for flails, swoons, and suggests.

Extra thanks to @glassjacket. You influenced every step of this story, you gave me my song, and this beautiful image edit.

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

How long you would wait for me? How long I've been away? The shape that I’m in now is shaping the doorway. Make your good love known to me. Just tell me about your day.

Hozier, “As It Was”

The call comes sometime after midnight, pulling you instantly alert from your deep sleep. Your phone is set to “Do Not Disturb,” and only one number is programmed as an exception.

“Are you home? I...I need you.”

“Of course you can come, let me just-”

“I’m already here.” A pause, and then, “I let myself in. It was too risky to wait-”

You hang up the phone, switching it off as you slide out of bed. Your feet don’t even register the shock of the cold hardwood as you pad across the floor, opening your bedroom door and moving down the hallway. The hair on the back of your neck rises, your nerves jangling in anticipation.

It’s been nearly five months since you’ve seen him (you had him for three whole days, that time), and it was six months before that (only a single day). You don’t allow yourself to speculate in the brief moment before you see him, refusing to analyze just how tired and broken and lost he sounded in the few seconds you spoke.

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here, your heart whispers with each rush of blood.

You turn the corner from the hall into your cramped living room, big enough for a loveseat and a tiny coffee table, but no more. It seems all the more cramped for the super soldier occupying the room.

He fills all the available space, his black-clad figure blending with the shadows as you pause to take him in.He hasn’t bothered to turn a lamp on, and the only light filters in from the street through your amber curtains.

The room is tinted sienna, and the bare skin of your legs that shows beneath the hem of your oversize t-shirt (his shirt, left behind many visits ago) is shaded a dark, aged bronze. Steve’s hair is nearly black in the gloom, his eyes colorless and deep. He's no longer the golden hero you'd learned about in school; he's tarnished and aged with misuse. Up until the last few years, the media had been singing songs of praise for the wonder soldier.

You pause a few feet away. His eyes linger on the floor for a heartbeat or two before rising to meet yours. His face is streaked with dirt and what might be faint smudges of blood if you were to look any closer. He’s shed his tactical gear, leaving it in a neat pile near the door, but otherwise, he hasn’t bothered to clean up from his last mission.

“Nat and Sam told me to say hello,” he says, a tired smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Did it go badly?” you ask.

Steve drops onto the loveseat and sits for a moment, silent, lost, and worn. He doesn’t speak for a long, loaded moment, but you can’t think of what to do to fill the silence.

Finally, Steve exhales, his hands scrubbing up through his beard to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes. His face tilts forward, damps strands of hair swinging loose from where he’s pushed it back out of his face.

“I hate coming to you like this. I should clean up, get a shower or wash my face, at least.” Despite his strength, the lightest brush of your hand on his shoulder halts his rising. His face, otherwise untouched by the years, is lined with worry and grief. You cup his cheek in your palm, your thumb gently smoothing over the dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion radiates from him, and your heart aches.

“You can shower later. You’re exhausted. Let me help you clean up enough so you can at least get some rest with me. Then we’ll get you a shower. Are you hungry?”

You’re expecting the refusal of food, but you still sigh as you retrieve a deep bowl and a clean towel from your kitchen. Steve is always hungry, but he will almost never admit it, especially when he’s like this. You fill the bowl with warm water and return to find him bent over, elbows planted on his knees, face buried in his hands.

“Still awake there, soldier?”

Steve snaps to, every line of him tense as if he’s ready to spring up from the couch, but you’re ready for this reaction (some lessons are learned the hard way), and you’ve stopped a few feet short of your target. You give him time to relax and then you set your bowl on the coffee table.

“Take your shirt off?”

Steve nods wearily, stripping down to the waist, and you examine his torso with a critical eye. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he reminds you of his healing abilities; you always have to see for yourself. As always, his abdomen is free from marks and wounds: literally more perfect than the day he was born.

“Do you want to talk about the mission?” A toss up, really; some nights, he needs to vent. Most nights, he needs to escape. A quick shake of his head shows you it’s going to be one of the latter.

“In that case, have you heard about a pigment called Vantablack?” Steve shakes his head, his eyes locked on your face as you move over him with your warm, damp cloth. “Then let me tell you about a couple of guys named Anish Kapoor and Stuart Semple. You’ll love this.”

For the next several minutes, you carefully clean Steve’s face of any traces of filth, moving on to his neck and chest when you are satisfied with your work. You keep up a steady narrative, outlining the drama between the two artists, giving Steve as detailed a history as you can, knowing he appreciates those little tidbits as much as you do.

You stop once to fetch a clean towel and fresh bowl of water, and by the time you reach the waistband of his trousers, Steve is visibly more relaxed and even smiling a little as you bring him up to speed on the pigment feud. A shower would have been more efficient, probably even better for his muscles, but Steve doesn’t come to you for efficiency. Every stroke of your hand, every time your fingers press the cloth to his flushed skin, brings you a little closer until you’re straddling him, his hands firmly bracing you against him as the cloth drops from your nerveless fingers to fall to the floor behind the loveseat.

“I missed you,” he says. His eyes search your face restlessly, maybe memorizing with that artist’s eye, always searching for his next sketch; maybe trying to see what’s changed since the last time he held you; maybe just reassuring himself that you are still here, waiting for him like you promised you would.

Like he tried to tell you not to.

Like he’ll never admit he deserves.

Your palms find his jaw again, fingers slide gently through his beard, and you shiver as the thick, coarse growth scratches against your skin. Your lips meet unconsciously, neither of you meaning to initiate the kiss, and you sigh with relief at the silky, plump press of his mouth against yours.

“Let me dump this water,” you say, sliding back off his lap and standing on shaking legs. “Then we can go to bed.”

But you never make it from between his knees. His hand catches yours, his grip gentle but resolute, and you don't have it in you to pull away. Not that you really want to. He reels you back to him, just a couple of steps, and then his arms are around you, his forehead pressed to your stomach. The heat of him through the thin material of the worn t-shirt is enough to loosen your muscles, send shivers of giddiness through your limbs.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into your navel, sliding his face to the side. Individual hairs from his beard slip through your shirt, scraping over your skin, and Steve’s arms instinctually tighten as your legs falter. Your fingers anchor in his hair, your grip tight enough to make any lesser man cringe.

Steve groans heavily against your belly, rolling his face to the other side, his teeth nipping and pulling the shirt as he moves. His hands shift, moving his grip from your backside to your hips, digging in tight before his thumbs begin to rise, lifting the hem of your shirt as they move. His nose presses against your bare skin, inhaling deeply as he mercilessly slides the worn garment up.

“Take it off,” he says, his voice resonant against your hip bone. His lips press, hot and devastating, along the crease between your thigh and pelvis, and you obey without hesitation.

Steve seems determined to memorize the span of skin between your hip bones, to map it with his tongue and lips, but as his mouth trails lower, you grasp his face between both hands, fingers pressing tight as you pull his gaze up to meet yours.

“It’s been too long. I need you inside me.”

His nostrils flair, his eyes sliding shut as he sucks in a sharp breath. His eyelashes lie feather black against his cheeks for a long moment, his jaw clenching, but you know better than to speak.

“Sometimes I dream of you saying those exact words to me.”

You move to open his fly with shaking fingers, and after a couple of stumbling attempts, Steve stills your hands, pressing your fingers down on his lap as he shifts his hips, a hiss escaping his throat as you stroke his length through his pants.

You lean down, sliding your lips across his cheek, your hands pressing down harder as Steve ruts up into your grip. There's a sudden line of pressure on your hips, and then Steve lets your shredded underwear drop unceremoniously to the floor.

He pulls you down to his lap just as your mouth finds his ear. Your lips ghost up the edge, teeth nipping the cool skin there; Steve settles your thighs on either side of his, still rutting against you even as he turns his head to give you better access. The tendons in his hands creak with restraint as he pulls you down harder, and you know he holds back for fear of hurting you, no matter how much he needs this release.

But tonight, in reverently simple, soft words, you tell him to hold on as hard as he needs. You reassure him, tell him everything you both need to hear, a mantra repeated so much it’s sunk deep into your bones.

That you’ll wait for him no matter how long he’s away.

That your love is absolute and unmoved, how it will remain until the dust takes you both.

That even if it’s only for tonight, he has to let everything else go and just be with you, feel you, lose himself in you.

“I’m here, Steve. Take what you need.”

And for the first time since you’ve known him, the captain obeys orders and digs in harder. You lift up long enough for him to finally open his pants and pull himself clear of material before sinking down on his length.

And if the word forced from your lips is some unrecognizable hybrid between a prayer and a curse, both of you are too far gone to notice.

Later tonight, when the two of you have finally migrated back to the bed, Steve will apologize. He will soothe raw skin and blossoming bruises with tender kisses. Tomorrow will find him massaging your aching joints and icing the darkened prints of his grip left on your skin.

But right now he clutches you harder and absolutely uses you. He doesn’t waste breath with instructions, just moves and places you exactly as he wants.

His arms line your back, his enormous hands clutching your shoulders from behind for leverage as he grinds into you. Your fingers lock into his hair, pulling his head back to bare his throat to your teeth, and the snarl that erupts from his chest at the sharp, unexpected contact sends a jagged spike of lust straight down to your belly.

Steve’s eyes darken, his eyebrows knitting together as he gazes down at where you’re joined. His breathing speeds up the longer he watches his hips rising to meet yours, and his face flushes as he loosens a hand, slipping his fingers between you.

With a jerk, you wrench his head back up, bringing his mouth to your own throat as he curses, his fingers clenching between you. His beard scratches your throat raw as his tongue travels over the tensed muscles and tendons of your neck.

Profanity, filthy promises spill onto your skin as Steve pushes you harder, demands more from you. He swears as he tells you you can take everything he gives you, that you have to, that he needs you to.

And you do, absolutely everything and more.

#MCU #Marvel #Captain America #Steve Rogers #Reader #angst #bruised #escape #waiting #not quite pining #comfort #it's steve #just assume he's hurt #Underwear was harmed in the making of this story #hozier #this song made me finally get what everyone's been saying about hozier #i didn't get it before

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Note

Can you write a Jaskier x fem!reader fic, where five years after Jaskier left Geralt’s side. Geralt comes across a small village and he hears music, which he finds Jaskier playing his lute. Which Geralt realises he needs to apologise to Jaskier. At first Jaskier is not sure if he was seeing things or his old friend was really standing in front of him, but he is happy to see Geralt and Jaskier introduces him to his wife/the reader and his daughter, which he tells Geralt on how he met his wife.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,655Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Still on my bullshit about Jask’s daughter being named Marigold in Polish. Hope you enjoy!

Geralt hated the sound of a lute.

Those 15 strings plucked at the guilt he’d carried for five, long years. For a while every time he heard one his hopes rose just a little, thinking he may be getting the chance to see his old friend once more. But it was always some other bard. By now he knew better and the sound just poked at a bruise that refused to heal.

And then one day it was different.

He was planning on walking past the village, not needing any supplies and preferring to avoid people. He’d never been good with them and the only person who’d ever managed to bridge the anxious distance between himself and the rest of the world was long gone. He was just pausing long enough to let Roach eat and rest when he heard it. The distinct harmonizing tones from a lute. But it wasn’t like before, this sounded oddly familiar.

Moving like one spelled, Geralt walked towards the sound, half-hoping and half-fearing what he may find when he turned the corner to see who was making the music.

And then, there he was.

Five years had passed but he looked as though he’d been stuck in amber that day on the mountain, unchanged and unaged though Geralt knew he himself had aged greatly in that time if only in his heart. Jaskier de Lettenhove leaned casually against a doorframe, strumming on a lute which also looked the same as it had before though looking closer Geralt noticed specks of paint as though something had been spilled near it, and a few finger prints much smaller than the man who suddenly stopped playing. Geralt looked back up and his eyes met Jaskier’s and he waited.

He waited for anger or sadness or – worst yet – confusion, not remembering the witcher who stood before him and whose victories he’d once sung throughout the lands.

“Geralt?” he said.

“Jaskier,” Geralt replied simply. He knew there was much more he needed to say but he would let Jaskier speak first. Let him vent the anger that had no doubt been quelling in his heart all of these years. But Jaskier’s bright blue eyes and a broad smile lit up his face as he ran toward Geralt, throwing his arms around him before the witcher could try and defend himself from attack.

“By gods, Geralt, how long has it been?” Jaskier asked when he finally pulled back, giving Geralt playful punch on the shoulder.

“Five years,” Geralt answered immediately.

“I suppose it has, yeah. What’ve you been up to?” Jaskier asked. Geralt squinted suspiciously but then took a deep breath, determined to follow through with what he’d decided long ago he would do when and if he ever saw Jaskier again.

“Jaskier, I need to apologize. That day on the mountain I said things to you that weren’t fair or true. I was angry about Yennefer and I took it out on you. You were a good travel companion and… a good friend,” Geralt exhaled deeply and waited for Jaskier’s response.

“Well, yeah, I know,” the bard said simply.

“What?”

“I know you were wrong. I literally told you it wasn’t fair. And of course it was about Yennefer, I was a delight, frankly. How is the witch anyway?” Jaskier asked. Geralt told himself it wasn’t fair to be upset that Jaskier wasn’t more affected or moved by his words and tried to focus on the fact that they were talking. He’d worried more than a few times that he’d find out that his friend had died on the way down the mountain. Yet here he was, in one piece, ever the same.

“I haven’t seen Yennefer in some time,” Geralt admitted.

“Ah, shame,” Jaskier said in a tone much brighter than his words.

“Julian, Sam wanted to know- oh!” you’d cracked open the door to call your husband in for dinner when you saw he was talking to someone. You took in the black leather armor and the silver, shoulder-length hair and the piercing yellow eyes and you froze.

“Y/N! This is my friend Geralt! The one I told you about!” Jaskier said cheerily though the glower you gave the witcher told him that you’d heard quite a lot about him indeed.

“Geralt, this is my wife!” Jaskier said the words proudly and it warmed your heart though your eyes stayed icy as they looked to the man who had broken your husband’s heart years ago.

“You got married! Congratulations Jaskier,” Geralt said with a smile.

“And that’s not all! Sam!” Jaskier called and a small child ran out the door moments later. She was barefoot and her dress was covered in paint, as well as her tiny hands and face, and her long, chestnut hair was braided into two, lopsided braids that were slowly coming apart. The bright blue eyes that looked out from her small face mirrored the ones belonging to the man who lifted her up in his arms, planting a kiss on her cheek not caring that a dab of yellow paint rubbed off on his chin as he did, and he turned her to look at Geralt. Like her father, she was not afraid of the man though many others ran from him. She looked at him with a familiar sort of curiosity.

“Geralt this is my daughter, Aksamitka. Sam, this is a friend of mine,” Jaskier introduced. She stuck out a hand and Geralt took it, his little finger bigger than her entire tiny fist.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, reciting manners that had been taught well and then, “Do you know you have yellow eyes?”

“Sam,” you admonished but Geralt just laughed. Yes, this was Jaskier’s daughter all right.

“I do,” he said with a grin as he let her hand go, “Did you know your eyes look exactly like your father’s?”

“Yes, everybody says so but they’re MY eyes and I’m keeping them!” she declared and then wriggled out of Jaskier’s arms to run back inside.

“She thinks saying that she has my eyes means I’m going to try and get them back someday. I don’t know where she learned it,” Jaskier said with a little shake of his head and a smile.

“Sorry love what was it?” he asked, turning to face you.

“Dinner is ready,” you said. And then, only because you had also been taught manners as a child, “Your friend is welcome to stay.”

Under any other circumstances Geralt would have waved the invitation away but he didn’t want to say goodbye so soon and he had five years’ worth of catching up to do with his friend. At dinner Geralt asked about Jaskier’s time in the village and he talked about some of the songs he’d made since and the adventures he’d gone on.

“That was before I met Y/N of course,” he said, taking your hand and smiling at you fondly.

“How did the two of you meet?” Geralt asked.

“Y/N is a brilliant chef, as you can clearly tell by the dinner she made tonight. I was working at a tavern and I had the most exquisite stew I’d ever had, and I demanded to speak to the cook so I could praise them and there she was. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” Jaskier sighed and you rolled your eyes though your fingers brushed his hand fondly.

“I was covered in sweat, my hair was falling out of its pins and I was as red as a tomato,” you said.

“Well I was struck instantly with ceaseless adoration. I asked her to dine with me, she reminded me that nobody dined unless she did her job, and so I stuck around in the kitchen as she worked. I tried to help but was… strongly encouraged to wait quietly and practice my songs,” Jaskier continued.

“And here we are,” you said.

“And here we are,” Jaskier echoed.

“Where is your wife?” Sam asked.

“I don’t have one,” Geralt answered simply.

“Who’s your person, then?” she asked.

“Sam…” Jaskier said, his voice chiding.

“I don’t have a person,” Geralt said.

“You did once,” you said, blurting it out before you could stop yourself. A tense silence that Sam didn’t understand and bored her immediately fell between the three of you.

“Shall I play you a song!” Jaskier suggested, moving from the table to fetch his lute while his daughter shrieked excitedly and ran after him to settle into her favorite spot to watch. You rose and as you walked by Geralt you forced yourself to face him.

“I apologize for that. I’ve just heard so many things and I love Julian and I don’t take kindly to him being hurt,” you explained.

“Your anger is fair,” Geralt said, “I know what it is to love someone who’s been treated poorly.”

You softened a little at his humility.

“I suppose it’s a little hypocritical to be so angry with you. After all, if you hadn’t pushed him away, I wouldn’t have this,” you said as you gestured to Jaskier and your daughter giggling together as she helped him pick which song to sing.

“You have a beautiful family,” Geralt complimented.

“He wants you to be a part of it,” you said, “He won’t say so but he does. He’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed him as well.”

“Then prove it. I know your work takes you far, but show him that you’ll come back. He deserves that.”

With that you joined your family, scooping your daughter into your lap as Jaskier began to play. Geralt watched the little scene with a scene of sad detachment, thinking of what may have been if he hadn’t pushed Jaskier away. But Jaskier smiled at him as he sang and Geralt felt a glimmer of hope he’d thought extinguished long ago and for the first time in five years he welcomed the lute’s music and found it beautiful.

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #fluff #reader request

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corinthbayrpg · 3 years

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NAME. Laila Renaud AGE & BIRTH DATE. 36 & May 9th, 1984 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Tranquilitea FACE CLAIM. Dichen Lachman

BIOGRAPHY

Their father was a crooked French Canadian. This story starts with a man who had a strong chin but weak morals, a gentleman who wasn’t gentle at all— save for when he grinned at you from behind a half filled glass of whiskey. Patrice Renaud had very little doing in his children’s upbringing, save for the firm hand that he had the habit of slamming onto the table when it came to following his rules. Their mother, a wisp of a woman, swallowed up in obedience and duties; loved him wholly, (or so she promised) regardless of how she threw him out once a month, locking the door behind. Laila was always her father’s child, a girl who grinned with all teeth, who clutched at the world as though it was all going to be taken away. Their lives were beautiful, tucked into a small home in Gatineau; every sunny day was linked to the next with the sweet hum of a French lullaby and the passing of terribly starry night.

Three girls outgrew that home, none like the other. Laila, the second oldest, tumbled into each room with skinned knees and tangled hair, brandishing sticks as swords. There was a ferocity that burned in her tiny chest like flame, only death could snatch away her spirit and she would fight until every child in the playground had received a wallop from her makeshift weapon. Spirited, they’d call her, her father perhaps loved her best; whispering words by the tiny shell of her ear, calling her a warrior, his legacy. These are the memories that she has forgotten, replaced by violence, raw and unmarred, always trailed by empty amber bottles leading to her mother’s room. Laila hated her for her smallness, her inability to snap back— her anger at attempts to intervene; as she grew older her love for her mother was twined so deeply with her distaste that the walls of that small home shrunk further down, suffocating her. When the girl was fifteen, she moved out.

She didn’t go far, a stone’s throw away where her bitterness welled deeper, darkening her heart. Anger seemed to follow Laila, snapping at her heels and prodding at her sensitive spots. Her sisters found the lighter spots in her, reminded her how to laugh, but as time passed she tried to leave them behind as well, curving invitations with shitty excuses, sending birthday cards shoved full with cash she didn’t have instead of visiting. Perhaps they would have been alright if things had stayed this way. Two years working in a gas station at the edge of town had her worn down, she felt grubby— a waste as her younger sisters went on to seize the world around them, to reach beyond the bars that Gatineau placed around them. That year, she accepted the invitation to the family’s last Thanksgiving celebration.

Most of the night is a blur, rubbed out of Laila’s memory like a bad dream, time carries away the worst parts of it. She remembers it in flashes; the gore that trailed from the kitchen, splattering up the tiles and over the feast that had been prepared, the misshapen prints that lead into the yard and the shining, silvery remains of yesterday’s full moon. The creature that stood over what was left of her mother was less human than it was beast, but it didn’t belong wholly to either; with the shot gun that was always stowed by the screen door, a seventeen year old Laila put a bullet into the beast.

A month passed, her father had disappeared, her mother was declared dead at the scene. The eldest Renaud took up her place as head of the household, running it as smoothly as she could with slapped together peanut butter sandwiches and apple juice. It was the point in November when the frost killed grass and the leaves were starting to wither, the moon took it’s perch in the top of that starry sky and shrugged off it’s cloud cover. Every bone in Laila’s body broke, her heart shuddered to a stop; the last of her screams were finished with a horrible howl. Her sister, Adeline rushed in, terrified as they saw the last of her sister, twitching to life as a terrible dark beast. She lashed out, an instinct (she’d claim), teeth sinking into the older girl’s shoulder.

A sisterhood of werewolves was born that night. From bloodshed rose the beasts, gnashing teeth and curved claws, they gouged marks the hard packed earth around their home. They knew no rules, followed no laws. The two people that had any footing in the world that they now belonged to had been buried; their baby sister awoke hours later— unmarred and alone. A month later, she too, buried two empty coffins. Gatineau was no longer safe for the young wolves, not when their striking features were so recognizable. Like those bearing the devil’s mark, they began their nomadic mark towards a place to call home. It was Adeline who discovered Red Creek, their travels westward had hit the small town and that was when they caught the trail of something that wasn’t rabbit or deer. A scent, entirely like their own— they followed it into a pub in town and since that fateful drink, they’ve stayed.

Like all good things, her fairytale life in the safe haven burned to the ground. Adeline— tired of her sister’s selfishness and actions, escaped in the blaze, leaving Laila to her own devices. She doesn’t blame her sister, for the life that she herself has chosen is not one for the living; for nearly a decade now she has lived the life of a nomad- wandering the earth in search of something to tether to. Drawn across the globe, Laila found herself in Greece, in a town where she doesn’t speak the language but can feel the same tug that brought her to her first safe haven. There are other wolves here, she can feel the strength in their stability and age, but she lopes around the outside, only vaguely aware of the other supernatural creatures that also make residence in Corinth.

PERSONALITY

+ loyal, fearless, confident - selfish, impulsive, unconstrained

PLAYED BY SAM. EST. She/Her.

#laila renaud #female #werewolf #dichen lachman

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