#i’ll probably reread it in the morning as well for grammar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellamyblakru · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Can I request “I should have been better” for Merthur with Arthur POV and like Merlin being so done with Arthur constantly making fun of him and calling him useless that he actually quits being his manservant and starts ignoring him and being cold to him, and then Arthur really misses him and practically begs him to come back? I wasn’t sure if I just had to post the prompt and the ship or actually add more details so there’s that hahaha I’m sorry, I’ll be happy with whatever I can get

I really like your writing btw ❤️

omg hello! this prompt was perfect, don’t worry!! it was really fun to write🥺 i appreciate you sending one and liking my writing🥺i adore u!! i hope this doesn’t disappoint 💞

✨here it is on ao3 and ill post it here as well✨

Arthur watched over his parchment as Merlin tripped over another pair of his boots that he left on the floor last night and growled out, “Merlin. You are pathetic, why are you even in here? I didn’t call for you, did I?”

He meant for it to come out teasingly, but it fell extremely flat. Arthur was stressed, fed up with his group of elderly councilmen that never agreed with him, and, honestly, he needed to release some of the pent up anger that simmered violently beneath his skin.

So, he didn’t stop the unwanted stream of words that forced their way out, “And while I’m at it, would you please clean this room already? You’ve been stomping around here for hours and have accomplished nothing. I should just fire you, really. What good is a servant who barely does his job? You’re useless, Merlin, truly.”

Arthur scoffed, finishing his rant, his body feeling like it was on fire while still staring blankly at the speech before him, not noticing how still Merlin had gotten. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence where Arthur couldn’t even pretend to read, Arthur looked up at Merlin’s unmoved form. The man was standing completely still, facing Arthur’s door, his shoulders tense.

Arthur saw Merlin’s jaw move from this angle, “What did you say?”

Merlin lifted his chin, sharply spinning on his feet towards Arthur, “I quit.”

No mistaking the words now. Arthur’s mind halted, “What?”

Merlin still did not move from that spot between Arthur’s desk and the door, “I quit, Arthur.”

“Why?” Arthur couldn’t comprehend it. Merlin never gave up on him, even during their darkest hours. Why would he back out now?

Merlin let out a cold laugh, “Why?” he mocked. Arthur saw the lifeless smile grace Merlin’s face. He stared at his servant, never recalling seeing such a look before in the decade he has known him. Merlin was all smiles, laughs, and happiness. This Merlin? This Merlin Arthur had never seen before.

He didn’t like it.

Merlin let out another empty laugh, “Why, asked the king!” Another chuckle, “God, Arthur. I’m done. With you, with Camelot, with everything. It’s not worth it any more.”

Merlin’s smile fell off, and Arthur saw how pale his servant was. Arthur doesn’t think he looked at Merlin in days, or else he would have noticed before now, right? What was happening?

Arthur leaned back in his chair, and griped the edge of his desk to hide his trembling hands, “Then go. What’s stopping you?”

Merlin’s eyes widened a bit, and Arthur saw how his body trembled from head to toe, and he didn’t know if it was anger or fear making his servant shake—he didn’t want to know.

“Okay,” he heard Merlin mumble, “okay.”

Merlin turned around and walked slowly to the door, and Arthur didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. It was always them against the world. Merlin wouldn’t walk out on them, no matter what.

When Merlin got to the door, his hand hovered over the handle. Arthur let go of his breath that he didn’t know he was holding when Merlin’s hand fell to his side, he wasn’t leaving him. He would never leave me.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, still facing the door, “I’m not coming back.”

Arthur’s brain couldn’t understand the words fast enough as he let out a small gasp of surprise when Merlin finally opened the door and raced out, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud.

Merlin had actually done it. He left him.

Arthur stared at the door, expecting Merlin to come back any second. This was a ruse. It must be. Merlin would never leave him.

Arthur let go of his desk when he saw how white his knuckles had gotten. It was late now, and he had an early morning. Shaking off the dreaded feeling filling him up, he stood up on shaky legs.

Merlin would be back in the morning. Every time they had fought before, Merlin always showed up the next day with a sheepish smile and a rare pastry in hand as a “we are idiots and let's move on” olive branch. But this felt different than the others. More...final.

Arthur shook the thought from his head, he was being ridiculous. Merlin always comes back, why would this be any different? Merlin knows how Arthur directs his anger at him sometimes, he must after working for him for ten years, and how Arthur never means what he says. He knew that, Arthur thought repeatedly, stumbling towards his bed.

Arthur sighed, laying down, remembering that he still never finished that speech on his desk and he frowned thinking, not for the first time, how unimportant it was compared to what happened with Merlin.

Arthur was exhausted, physically and, now, mentally as shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop the sound of Merlin’s cold laughter from echoing in his head, the sight of Merlin’s paling skin, and the noise of the door slamming shut in the wake of his dismissal.

Arthur shook his head knowing that tomorrow everything would go back to normal. It must.

—————

Arthur woke up to sunlight streaming into his chambers. He stretched lazily, yawning as he did so. He forced his eyes open, trying to figure out when he finally fell asleep. He felt slightly less sluggish, but his mind was still tired. He blinked at the offending sunlight, which he realized, jolting out of bed, that the sun was almost to it’s apex.

“Merlin,” Arthur grumbled, throwing on some clothes, “the idiot must have overslept. Guard!”

The guard outside his room immediately stepped in, “Yes, Sire?”

“Can you get someone to fetch my useless manservant? I believe he is late and has some explaining to do.”

The guard smiled, “Of course, sire.”

As he backed out the door, Arthur paused in his frantic searching for boots when last night’s conversation hit him again.

I’m not coming back, played in his head, but Arthur chuckled, like Merlin would leave his side from something as simple as a petty fight.

He continued putting on his clothes, and when he was done, he frowned at the closed door. He grabbed the papers for today’s meetings, and he decided that he would pass Merlin’s chambers himself on the way to the throne room.

Walking through his castle, Arthur felt like it was lacking energy today and he couldn’t figure out why. The servants rushed past him, without looking up, as normal, but the air felt thick with something Arthur couldn’t name. His frown deepened when he saw that Gaius’s room was opened already, and he walked right in without knocking.

“Gaius?”

The man in question looked up briefly from his book and looked back down, “Sire.”

Arthur stopped closer to the main table, confused by the man’s uncharacteristic coldness, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Where is my manservant?”

Gaius stopped pretending to read as his eyebrows shot up, making eye contact with Arthur, “Sire, he quit. He told me that he told you.”

Arthur’s breath caught, his nonchalant expression changing to disbelief, “What?”

Gaius’s face portrayed no emotion, “Yes, sire, if that is all?”

Arthur stumbled back, “Oh.”

This wasn’t happening. Arthur turned around quickly, running towards the knights’ chambers, knowing if Merlin wasn’t with him or Gaius, Lancelot or Gwaine would be the next choice.

He knocked on Gwaine’s door first who answered after Arthur’s violent knocking became incessant.

“What?” Gwaine asked groggily, probably exhausted from his night shift.

“Have you seen Merlin?”

Gwaine immediately straightened up, his eyes narrowing, “No? Why? Did something happen?”

Arthur backed up, “No, don’t worry about it.” And when Gwaine opened his mouth again, Arthur simply turned around and walked to Lance’s room.

The door was ajar, so Arthur lightly pushed it open to find Lance with his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees on his bed.

“Lance?” Arthur whispered, listening to how Gwaine’s footsteps joined behind him.

Lance whipped his head up at the sound, and Arthur saw how red-rimmed his eyes were. Arthur’s breath whooshing out.

Lance got up, anger pouring out of his body in almost tangible waves, and Arthur backed up hastily. Lancelot never lost his cool demeanor.

Arthur hit into Gwaine who grunted and pushed Arthur behind him—placing himself in front of the extremely pissed off Lance.

Gwaine placed a hard hand on Lance’s chest, “Woah woah, steady now. How about we use our big boy words before we start punching princesses, hmm?”

Arthur tried to hide his flinched when Lance looked at Gwaine then back to him with murder in his eyes. Arthur knew only one person who could get Lance this worked up.

Lance roughly said, “Move, Gwaine. I need to punch something and I want it to be Arthur’s face.”

Even Gwaine blinked at the words, taken aback at the fury lacing Lancelot’s every movement.

“Gwaine, it’s okay-“ Arthur didn’t get to finish as Lance pushed Gwaine aside and promptly punched Arthur in the face. Arthur hit the ground, feeling blood coming out of his nose, as he cradled his face. He didn’t flinch as Lance landed another one before Gwaine threw him to the side.

Arthur stared at the ceiling, feeling numb. He deserved that, he mused, and probably deserved more.

Once the ringing stopped, he vaguely listened to Gwaine pushing Lance back.

“Lance, get a hold of yourself! Tell me what happened and I’ll probably join you.”

Lance was panting, his knuckles bloody, as he stopped thrashing against the hold Gwaine had on him, “Arthur, why don’t you explain what happened?”

Arthur ignored him, and Lance let out a dark chuckle, “No? Of course not, staying silent when you need to explain yourself is your strong suit.”

Arthur imperceptibly flinched this time, his numbness not leaving his body as Lancelot’s words felt like another blow to the face.

Gwaine coughed pointedly at Lance’s silent seething, “Alright, can you tell me already?”

Lance cleared his throat and forced his stare at Gwaine, “Arthur was an asshole again, not surprisingly, and Merlin..” Lance’s eyes watered a bit before he visibly shoved it back down, “Merlin had enough. And honestly? So have I.”

Arthur sat up then, his heart pounding, as the words clicked. He was losing his knight as well.

Gwaine sighed, “I knew this day was coming. I’m coming with you. I already had my things packed knowing this was inevitable.”

Arthur choked, “You’re both leaving.”

Gwaine had the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry. Merlin comes first, and well? Whatever you did, you probably wouldn’t want me around after I find out exactly what went down. I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.”

Arthur shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead, “Lance, wait, I’m coming too.”

Gwaine put a hand out when Lance tried to go at him again, “No.”

Lance shoved Gwaine off, “Hurry Gwaine, we are leaving soon.” And with that, Lancelot turned around, shoving his clothes in a pack.

Gwaine grimaced, walking around Arthur and hurrying down the hall back to his room. Arthur didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly to Lance’s back, “I didn’t—“

“Yeah,” Lance shoved his boots on, “you never do mean it, do you? Arthur,” here Lance sighed, his anger bleeding out of him, his exhaustion clear to see, “do you know how much Merlin does for you? How much he loves you?”

Arthur blinked again at the unexpected sadness in his words as Lance plowed on, “That man is the most selfless human being I know. And he can take a hit, trust me. He can take a knife in the stomach and barely blink at his own pain if someone else was hurt. I don’t even think you understand what you did.”

Arthur slowly nodded his head no.

Lance slouched onto his bed, staring at his hands, “Arthur. I have never seen the pure hopelessness that drowned in Merlin’s eyes when he came to me last night. He seemed so lost.” Lance shook his head and looked back up at Arthur, “In all the years I’ve known him, he always had purpose. Purpose at your side, always. When he told me what happened, not for the first time this week I might add, the look of devastation on his face, Arthur, I can’t even describe it. And it wasn’t the fact that you yelled at him again, he knows you do that without truly meaning it. You have been misplacing your anger at him the minute you met him. No, what pushed him over the edge was the fact that you did nothing to stop him from leaving. ‘Then go,’ really, Arthur?”

Arthur’s heart was beating unsteadily as he watched Lance wipe a hand down his face. He fucked up, royally.

Arthur’s breathing picked up when the enormity of the situation finally caught up with him. Merlin had left, and it was entirely his fault. He deserved to be alone. He had been horrible to the one person who meant more to him than Camelot, and the only words he had for him was to leave. To leave his side. Arthur put a hand to his ribs, his breaths coming in faster, the space where Merlin should be felt like a void—Merlin was out of reach, no longer his.

Was he ever his?

Lance finished packing and stood up a few moments later. Gwaine arrived right when Lance started walking to the door.

Arthur looked up at his two knights, and even though he knew better, he still felt betrayed by their leaving. But he had no right to keep them here when the one person tethering them to Camelot has gone.

They didn’t look back as they walked out the door and left, and Arthur didn’t move for hours.

—————

Arthur found his way back to his chambers, his hands empty, his heart straining, and his head pounding.

They were all gone.

Lance, Gwaine, Gwen, and Merlin—gone. He found out about Gwen after he entered the throne room later that day and it didn’t surprise him. Her and Merlin were best friends, and her and Lance were practically married—so, no, it wasn’t a surprise. But, it still hurt.

Arthur walked to his window that faced the courtyard, the moon already high in the sky. He made it through an entire day without Merlin and he has never felt more empty in his life. Merlin was the only constant in his life. He was the light that drove away Arthur’s darkness. Merlin’s laughter was sometimes the only thing that kept Arthur going, and now? Now, Arthur had driven him away. Like everyone else in his life.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

—————

He woke up late again, he realized, as forced himself to leave the bed. His soul felt like it was cleaved in half. How can anyone go on like that?

He walked slowly to his desk, frowning at the small sigil laying on his papers. He picked it up, flipping it in his hand. His mother’s sigil was his most prized possession, until, that is, Merlin stumbled into his life and forced his way under Arthur’s skin and, most importantly, his heart. He gave it to Merlin when he realized that, of course, figuring that his most prized person should always hold something dear to Arthur.

It felt cold in his hand. There was no note with it, to Arthur’s great displeasure, as he plopped down at his desk. He was an idiot. Last night, he replayed the conversation over and over again. The way Merlin reacted to his words, the jaw clenching, the stiff way he barely held himself, the cold person who replaced his sunny Merlin.

Arthur noticed his shaking again and let go of the sigil. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how he was meant to rule. His rule meant nothing if Merlin wasn’t at his side.

And with that thought, he grabbed the sigil, a small pack, and raced out his chambers.

—————

Arthur ran to the stables, “How long ago did they leave?”

The stableboy blanched at Arthur’s appearance and stuttered out, “A few candle marks ago, sire.”

Arthur nodded, putting his saddle on Llamrei, and hopped on, “If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be back before nightfall,” and with that, he raced out.

The wind felt sharp against his face as he galloped towards Ealdor, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that he was finally making the right decision.

It didn’t take too long to find them, actually, as they were cleaning up the camp from the night before still about two candle marks away from Camelot. At Arthur’s approach, Gwaine unsheathed his sword and pointed it at him.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said angrily, coming closer, “If you come any closer, I will skewer you. I promise you that.”

Arthur jumped off his mare, his hands raised in surrender, “I just need to talk to him.”

Gwaine growled, walking towards him, when a pale hand grabbed his arm.

“Gwaine, it’s okay,” Arthur heard Merlin’s say, his heart skipping a beat at the sound. He missed that voice with his entire being and it’s barely been two days.

Gwaine scowled, backing down, as Merlin walked gently around him towards Arthur towards the edge of the camp.

Merlin walked past Arthur, who just stared at his servant, to Llamrei. He started petting his mare, who basically purred against Merlin’s ministrations. Arthur wasn’t surprised, she always did prefer Merlin to him.

Merlin looked up at Arthur’s silence, the question in his eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat, “Merlin, I-“

Merlin narrowed his eyes when Arthur couldn’t come up with the words, and he sighed, “Arthur, go home.”

Shaking his head, Merlin went to go around Arthur when Arthur’s hand shot out to stop him. Merlin stared at the hand grabbing him, his body promising violence if Arthur didn’t let him go.

Arthur spun towards him, and he felt tears unwillingly forming in his eyes. He cleared his throat again, “Merlin, I can’t go home. It’s not home anymore.”

Merlin shook off Arthur’s grip, folding his arms over his chest as he stared back at Arthur expressionless, “What?”

Arthur shook his head, angry at himself for being unable to speak how he feels, “It’s not home without you, Merlin.”

Arthur swore he saw Merlin soften a bit at that but then Merlin closed himself off again, scoffing, so Arthur quickly went on, hoping his heart would be able to beat normally after this, “I should have been better. Merlin, you deserve better. And I’m sorry. I should have ran after you, I should never have said for you to leave, because I never want you gone. I fucked up. Big time. I was stressed and angry and you were there and fuck,” Arthur wiped his face, “Merlin. I’m sorry! I was an asshole. I’m constantly an asshole to you, I know, but I’ll be better. I promise. You don’t deserve the way I treat you. You can do so much better than me—Gods, I know you can. But,” Arthur took a deep breath, unable to look at Merlin, “But, I need you. You make me a better person. You give me a purpose. You make me want to live, Merlin, and I need you at my side.”

At the end of his speech, he finally gained courage to look up at Merlin. Merlin was silently crying and Arthur’s heart broke as he whispered, “You aren’t coming home, are you?”

He heard Merlin’s small gasp and Arthur went completely motionless as Merlin flung himself at him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re an idiot, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin whispered into his neck when Arthur’s shock turned into him squeezing Merlin back, “An idiot who I love, unfortunately.”

Arthur buried his face into Merlin’s neck, “I’m so sorry, Merlin, please come home.”

Merlin pushed back Arthur a bit, so he could see Merlin’s face, as both of Merlin’s hands found themselves on either side of Arthur’s face, “Alright.”

Arthur made a wet choked sound as he smiled for the first time in days, “Yeah?”

Merlin smiled, his tears falling freely as he stared back at Arthur, “Yeah.”

Arthur laughed, pulling Merlin into another hug, “Never again, Merlin, I swear on my crown. I love you.”

Arthur pulled back from Merlin when he heard a cough from next to them.

Lance had one hand on his sword, “Arthur, if you ever hurt Merlin like that again, I will make sure we are long gone by the next morning where you can never find us again. Are we clear?”

Arthur didn’t hesitate, “Yes. I understand,” and Arthur watched as the relief flooded through his knight.

Lance pulled Merlin into a hug and whispered something into his ear, and when they pulled back, Lance smiled at Arthur, “You should thank Gwaine for slowing us down, sire, or we would have been in Ealdor by now.”

Gwaine pouted, “I was doing it on purpose, thank you very much. I knew the princess would come crawling back without his other half.”

Merlin blinked at his friend, then a small smile of disbelief formed on his servant’s face. Arthur tilted his head at the knight, “You knew I would come?”

Gwaine looked at him condescendingly, “Princess, have you met you? You wouldn’t last a day without Merlin. Clearly,” he pointed at the extremely disheveled Arthur, “I was right.”

Arthur looked down at himself and frowned, “You’re right.”

At that, Merlin faced him again with surprise written on his features, “He is?”

Arthur sighed, grabbing Merlin’s hand to intertwine their fingers, “Yes, how many times do I have to say that I am nothing without you at my side. I couldn’t think straight, or eat, or sleep, without knowing you were safe, and that you hated me.” Arthur shivered at the thought, “Merlin, you are my other half. Of course I can barely last a day without you!”

Merlin’s tears were back, to Arthur’s horror who thought he fucked up again, but as Merlin’s lips crashed into his, and with Lance, Gwen, and Gwaine’s clapping and whistling in the background, Arthur finally thought that maybe everything would be alright in the end.

#ashley writes #bad things happen bingo #merthur #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #lovely anon #i spent hours writing this LOL i hope its okay #i’ll probably reread it in the morning as well for grammar #i read it like five times hopefully its okay #bbc merlin #its also like almost 3am hehe #merlin

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clovermarigold · 2 years

Text

Daggers and Daffodils Chap.8

Dagur x Reader

Hi everyone, just wanted to take a moment to once again apologize for the grammar and spelling of the last chapter. I was rereading it today and... oh boy. I was planning on waiting till I came back from my camping trip and having it looked over before posting it but, meh.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

-Clover/Peachmilkbard

Narrator POV

You ducked, avoiding the axe aimed at your head. You and Astrid were training back at the cliffs the day after the raid. Your father had called a meeting, leaving the village mostly empty. Hiccup had disappeared, you didn't blame him after last night, it was probably best he laid low for a bit until things cooled down. You had woken up this morning to ask Astrid to spar, the majority of your anger gone from the night before. You swept your leg under her feet, knocking her down. She in turn launcher herself back up, using her momentum to swing her axe down at full speed.

"You're off today" Astrid said, you had blocked the blow with your sword. "Just thinking" you said pivoting to the side, swinging only to be blocked. "Think on your own time" You and Astrid continued to trade blows until you eventually grew tired.

"So" Astrid asked with her usual annoyed glare.

"I guess my minds just been trailing off." Astrid looked unconvinced, "It's Hiccup". Astrid scoffed, retrieving her axe from the log she had thrown it at, "When is it not?".

"Dragon training will be starting soon. I'll be too busy with that to keep an eye on him" you signed. "It's not your job" Astrid remarked. "He's my brother Astrid. It's my job to keep him safe".

"Thats his job. You've been doing his job forever! You're more of a chief than he is now! He's supposed to protect everyone, and he can't even protect himself!" You looked away from her trying to think. A few moments of silence. "You can't protect him forever", "...I know". Astrid sighed and put her axe over her shoulder, "I'll see you later, ok?" you gave her a small yeah and a wave before you parted.

As you were walking back towards your house you saw the large crowd of Vikings reentering the village, 'meeting must be out'. The house was empty, you dropped your sword on the table and stretched your neck. "What to do now" you sat at the table awkwardly tapping your fingers on the wood for a minute. Your mind began to drift, thinking of responsibilities, fears, a perfect world without dragons. Yeah, that last one seemed like a relaxing thing to think about, what would that world be like. Hiccup would be excepted for who he was, your father could relax, no one would have to fight. You could spend the rest of your days panic attack free, having fun, and living the rest of your life free with Dagur- you felt your face heat, and were thankful for the houses empty state. When had Dagur entered your mind!? And since when was being with him your perfect world!?

You jumped when you heard the front door open, coughing to hide the small squeak you had let out, and walking towards your room so whoever had entered wouldn't see your faces reddened state. You were just at your door when you heard your father "Y/N", franticly you rubbed your face, taking deep breathes trying to calm yourself.

"Dad! Hi!" you entered the kitchen refusing to make eye contact.

"Y/N" he sighed "Me and the others will be going on voyage" oh, that's what the meeting was about. "Gobber will be staying behind to lead dragon training" 'Tomorrow!? dragon training was tomorrow?' You knew your window of childhood peace was coming to an end, but you didn't think it would be this soon.

"I trust you to learn well, fight hard" he put a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at him, "And also. I need you to loosen your hold on your brother", where had that come from. "You'll find out why soon, but. He needs to learn on his own. Can you do that?". "Yes father" he smiled lightly, before chuckling, "Your face is pink", the color spread as you tore yourself from him speed walking to your room, "No it isn't!" embarrassment spread as you heard his laughter, closing your door.

'Stupid face! Stupid dad! Stupid Dagur!' you complained internally. The Berserkers last visit was fairly recent, so you would have to wait a full year before you were able to see him again. This last visit had been similar to the others, Dagur brought you gifts, threw you in the air a few times, and didn't leave your side unless it was to terrorize Hiccup.

You were usually relieved when it was time for the Berserkers to leave, enjoying your Dagurless life. But this year you had come to the horrifying realization that you had grown attached to Dagur, beyond him being an annoying friend. Against your better judgment you grabbed a pen from in front of you and began to write him.

Dagur,

This is the first time I've ever written you, so I don't quite know what to say. My father is leading Berk on another voyage, so I'll be here alone with Gobber and the others my age. Please don't take this as an invitation to come kidnap me and take me too Berserk.

I'll be in dragon training by the time this reaches you. You always told me dragon training was easy, I hope for my sake that it is.

I hope Ansson hasn't been giving you a hard time, if I were on Berserk, I know the first thing I'd do is find and bury him in a pile of natter dropping. Once again, please DO NOT come to take me too Berserk.

I miss you

"NOPE" you exclaimed, rapidly scribbling out the three cursed words you, for some reason thoughts were appropriate. Instead writing,

See you next year, Y/N

You dropped the pen, slamming your head onto the table, 'this was so stupid'.

You heard the front door open, 'Hiccup must be home'.

You folded the letter and began melting a piece of red wax, before pouring it onto the paper and using your pendant to stamp it with your insignia. You were most definitely going to regret this later. Your attention was grabbed when you heard your father's voices raise, "Deal?" asked your father.

Opening the door and walking into the kitchen you say your father picking up his pack and heading to the door. "I'll be back, probably".

" And I'll be here, maybe" said Hiccup, holding an axe. He struggled to lift it onto the table after Stoick exited the house. "What was that all about" you asked. "Well, starting tomorrow, I'm gonna be in dragon training ".

"What?" oh no, if by some miracle Dagur was right and there was a chance dragon training WAS going to be easy, it was gone. "Yup" he sighed "He said that he had, had enough of... this" he used his hands to wash over himself, "You just gestured to all of you", "Exactly" he said heading towards his room.

Oh, tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

The next morning you had to shake Hiccup to get out of bed. You had mentally scolded yourself for doing it after you had told your dad you would limit how you would help him. So, to make up for it, after making sure he was awake and letting him know you were ready and leaving, you set off to the arena without him.

"Oh, hey Y/N" you were greeted by Fishlegs, who stood next to Snotlout and Astrid. "Moring Fishlegs" You greeted walking to Astrid, you bumped forearms. "Mornin babe" Snotlout greeted earning him an eye roll from you, "Snotlout"

Thankfully before Snotlout was able to open his mouth and talk the twins arrived in rather twin-like fasion, Ruff pushing Tuff in a cart at full speed towards you. You and Astrid moved out of the way with ease, Fishlegs moving last second, while the cart and tuff crashed into Snotlout. "Strrrrriiike" Ruffnut cheered, Snotlout complaining about a possible broken rib.

"Oh, would you knock that off you two" Gobber yelled from withing the arena as the gate opened. "Welcome to dragon training".

"No turning back" Astrid said looking over to you, you nodded to her and entered. You had made it a point to be a Viking of their word. Despite knowing training would inevitably become competitive, you and Astrid were going to learn and work together. Things had become tense between the two of you lately, but in the end, she was the closest you had to a sister. The twins began talking about their preferred injuries and scars, when Hiccup chided in. Greeted by Tuff and Snotlouts 'warm' welcome.

"Let's get started. The recruit who does best, will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village". Snotlout interrupted, "Hiccup already killed a night fury so, does that disqualify him oooorrrr- OW!" you elbowed him in the stomach.

"That does bring up the question though" Astrid said "Y/Ns already killed a dragon". "True" said Gobber, "But the prize exists to get you to be the best you can. Besides you earn your mark during raids after dragon training, Y/N will likely get a new one when all is said and done".

"Now, behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight" With each dragon he named you did a mental check, naming the ability and stats of them. Though it turned out you didn't need to, with Fishlegs speaking them aloud. only to be scolded by Gobber. "Would you stop that! And the Gronkle" he grabbed the doors lever.

"Woah woah wait! Arent you going to teach us first" Snotlout exclaimed. Thank Odin you had been warned of Gobbers particular teaching methods, along with Astrid.

"I believe in learning on the job", with that a Gronkle busted through the unlocked cage, causing you and the others to scatter across the arena as barreled towards you.

"Today's lesson is about survival, if you get blasted, you're dead. Quick, What's the first thing you're going to need?"

"A doctor?" "Plus five speed?". "A shield" you and Astrid answered in sync. You being the closest grabbed a yellow shield with painted vines. You saw Astrid running towards you when the Gronkle changed direction to charge at her. "Astrid!" You called lifting a blue and green shield with your foot and tossing it towards her. She caught it with ease, dodging the Gronkle before running to your side, along with Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Snotlout. The twins were out, as their shield was destroyed while they were busy fighting over it.

"Those shields are good for another thing, Noise. Make lots of it, to throw off a dragon's aim" you and the other created a circle around the dragon banging on your shields. "Each dragon has a limited amount of shots, how many does a Gronkle have?" Gobber asked as the dragon locked on a target; being Fishlegs as he answered, correcting Snotlout "Six!" only to be disqualified as the Gronkle destroyed his shield with a ball of magma.

You, Astrid, and Snotlout were in a group when the Gronkle trained its sights on you. "So anyways, I moved into my parents basement. You should come by sometime to work out, you guys look like you work out" both you and Astrid moved out of the Gronkle's path, while distracted, Snotlout's shield was blasted. "Snotlout you're done" called Gobber.

Astrid was now standing next to Hiccup while you were across from them. "So, I guess it's just you and me" said Hiccup. "Nope just you" Astrid said ducking under a ball of magma. "One shot left" Hiccup had dropped his shield and was now chasing after it, as the Gronkle chased him in turn. "Hiccup!" you called as he was now cornered by the dragon. You were too far to reach him, thankfully as he was about to be blasted b the Gronkle, Gobber stepped in.

"Oh, thank Thor".

"You'll get another chance don't you worry. Remember" He leaned in towards Hiccup, "A dragon will always, Always, go for the kill".

You were going to kill Dagur for lying to you.

#dagur the deranged #httyd dagur #dagur x reader #dagur #httyd #race to the edge

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years

Text

A block

Loki x reader

Word count: 1 548

Summary: when a writer's block hits you, your amazing boyfriend is there for you

Warnings: angst, implied smut (teeny tiny bit) and besides that just good old fluff

A/N: kinda messy oneshot, possible typos and grammar mistakes, enjoy <3

You were lying in your bed. Raindrops were softly tapping on the nearby window, lulling you. Light from your opened laptop was illuminating your bedroom, keeping you from falling asleep.

Not the light, rather the opened tab. Word document. Empty. Not a single word. You turned your body towards wall and hid your head under a pillow.

It has been like this for at least two weeks. You used to have so many ideas, so many stories that begged to be let out of your head onto the paper. Or a computer screen.

That was a long time ago. Your head was empty now. No idea. No new adventure. No nothing.

You tried anything. Meditating, reading books and watching movies for inspiration, even writing down some of your dreams right after you woke up only to realise they make absolutely no sense.

You wanted to write again. You wanted to create. But you just couldn't anymore.

'It will pass,' you told yourself. 'It will pass and soon I'll create again. Just like before.'

It didn't pass. Not one bit. You don't even check tumblr anymore. You felt miserable even without seeing all those beautifully crafted stories written by people who actually do something instead of lazying around, like you are doing now. Curled up on your couch, watching a movie you don't even pay attention to.

You felt like the laziest piece of garbage in the world. Like, how can writing be so hard? Just sit down, hit bunch of keys and create senteces. That's it. It's THAT easy. So why does it feel like the most difficult thing to do?

You groaned and hit your face with a throw pillow. 'You're stupid. So stupid. Lazy, stupid, illiterate-'

"Darling? I'm back," Loki's voice called for you, stopping your negative train of thoughts.

You stood up and ran to hug him. You could've knocked him down with the force you collided with him, if it wasn't for his godly strength. You nuzzled his neck and murmured. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're here."

Loki wrapped his arms around you and brought you close. "I missed you as well. How have you been without me?"

You smiled at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm better now, when you're with me," you stood on your toes and softly brushed your lips along his thin soft ones in a loving tender kiss.

You felt his big hand cup your left cheek, turning your face slightly to the side and deepening the kiss. His tongue met yours in a passionate dance only you two knew steps of and danced only when you were all alone. His hand slowly slid down to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. Your fingers got lost in his coal black hair, tugging here and there, making him moan into your mouth.

You loved moments like this. When you reunited after a long separation and it was just the two of you again, two people who simply love eachother. These moments make you forget everything that troubles you. *He* makes you forget everything that troubles you. The pain and guilt over your laziness in your chest disappeares, beeing replaced by a warm love Loki was pouring into you.

After your mouths separated with a wet pop you stood there, forheads touching, eyes closed, smile playing on both of your faces.

Loki's quiet voice broke the silence. "You said you are better now, which means you were unwell before. What happened?"

You shook your head. You wanted that pain away from your chest for a little while longer. "I don't really want to talk about it. Not now."

Loki's hands moved from your waist to your hips, drawing small circles with his thumbs. "Alright. I won't pressure you. You will tell me when you are ready. I can take your mind elsewhere. Much more-," he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the side of your neck, "-pleasurable place. If you allow me."

Of course you did. You didn't want to think about anything other than him tonight.

Loki's heartbeat under your right ear slowly woke you from your dream. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his naked legs tangled with your own under your sheets.

Loki's affections took your mind off your misery, but it soon returned. It's only a matter of time till Loki asks if you'd written anything new. He always asked about your creations. His disappointed face after telling him you haven't written a word for nearly 2 months haunted you in your dreams.

It started to dawn. Loki was a morning person and with every new ray of sunlight a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if it's the first thing he asks? What would he, a skilled poet and story writer, say about you and your inability to write even a small drabble?

"Mhm, mornin' darlin'," he mumbled with extremely raspy voice and the deepest british accent you ever heard and pressed a small kiss to your temple. You snuggled into his chest and mumbled a quiet 'morning'.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

You felt his fingers run up and down your spine. "Right now?"

"Right now."

"But I wanna cuddle with you..." you pouted at him.

Loki chuckled and pecked your pouting lips. "Tell you what my love, I'll go make a quick breakfast, then we can lazy around in our bed the whole day. What do you think? Besides, I think you need it, you are working so hard all the time the word 'lazy' and 'break' probably left your dictionary."

And there it was again. The guilt. You didn't think you worked hard at all. If you did, you'd have finished all your drafts and WIPs while he was away.

You were so grateful he had closed eyes, he didn't see the sadness crawling back on your face. You forced some strength into your voice. "That sounds lovely."

Loki then stood up, put on his favourite sweatpants and padded barefoot into kitchen. You pulled his pillow to your chest and inhaled the smell of him. It calmed you down a little. But the thought of other people being productive and you just lying in your bed being SO LAZY to even make yourself a breakfast didn't leave your head.

'I can at least reread my story ideas, maybe that will start my creativity' You sat up, your eyes fell on your table where your laptop is. Where it usually is. But its place is empty.

'Fuck'

You started to panic. You remembered you left it in the kitchen. OPENED. UNLOCKED. LOKI WILL FIND IT. HE WILL SEE.

In the speed of lightning you put on some clothes and ran to kitchen.

You were late.

Loki was sitting at the table, your laptop opened infront of him. His face was the epitome of poker face. He lifted his head and looked at you standing in the doorway. "Sorry dear, I didn't mean to look through your laptop. I was just curious if you have written anything new and- are you okay?"

You didn't realize tears were running down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality.

"I'm sorry Loki," you wiped your tears.

"Why are you sorry? Writing is your hobby, not your work. You don't have to write all the time," he walked to you and cupped your left cheek, his thumb wiping new tear away.

"I know, but.... Everyone is still writing and I'm not. I mean- writing is so easy and I can't even do that anymore! I'm just lazy a-and out of imagination and m-my grammar is horrib-" Loki stopped your rambling with a single finger against your lips, making you look into his face.

"My love, whoever told you writing is easy is a filthy liar. Nothing about creating a whole world using only your words is easy. And while you can have grammar mistakes and typos here and there, I always get lost in the story I barely notice them at all. You are not lazy for taking a break."

"But this is not a break," you hid your face in his chest, hugging him to you. "I don't have any ideas. I want to write, but I don't know what about," you felt his fingers thread through your hair, caressing you.

"Then start out slowly. Write about your memories. Small parts of your life that make you smile. They are all little stories only you know and can share with the world. And sooner than you notice, inspiration will hit you again and you will write just like before. But for now, my darling, baby steps."

His words helped you, a lot. You still kept your face pressed to his chest, listening to his breath, his heart. His fingers were gently scratching your head in a calming rhythm, his other hand kept your torso pressed to him.

"I love you Loki, thank you for helping me," you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek.

"Always my dear," he kissed your forhead. "Always."

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #fluffy loki #loki fluff #domestic loki

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skycollides · 4 years

Note

Hi I love your stories you post. And I just reread a hank story of yours and It so sweet. So could you write a first date imagine with him? I also loved the one of ez and I thought one with hank would be so sweet!😍 Thanks in advance

@hoooli13 Thanks for the request. I hope you like it! 💜

First Date

Hank x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Warning: none

Words: 1.715

You met Hank through your cousin Bishop. From the first time you met him at one of the parties you were fascinated. At this point you were sure that he was the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. Sadly Bishop told you that his guys were off limits. He didn’t want this life for you. He wanted you to have a man who’s not in conflict with the law all the time or in danger. Nor did he want to see you in danger. Ever since you were children Bishop wanted to protect you and this was his way of protecting you. He also told the guys you were off limits the first time you set a foot into the clubhouse. After going to the clubhouse more regularly you and Hank had gotten closer and little did El Presidente know that things always go the way he wants them to.

You are currently at work the you get a text form Hank.

Hank

Hey Y/N,

I hope you’re well.

I’m sorry I didn’t text you

these past couple of days

but we were on a run.

I’ll make it up to you

if you let me.

Tonight?

Y/N

Hey Hank,

I’m good!

Are you and the guys alright?

Don’t apologize!

Bish is my cousin I know

you guys go MIA form time to time.

It’s okay. I understand.

Well you don’t have to but

I can’t say know to that.

Yes I’m actually free tonight.

Text me the details and

I’ll be there.

Hank

Yes we’re alright nothing

happened.

I’m glad you’re so understanding.

My place 7pm.

I can’t wait to see you darling.

You can’t help but smile. Did this incredibly handsome man seriously ask you out? Like for real? You could hug the whole world right now. Happiness that what you’re feeling right now. No matter what Bishop said you won’t let it stop you from seeing him.

After 3 more hours at work you’re finally free to go. As soon as you’re home you go straight to your wardrobe looking for something to wear for your date. After searching for a while not really knowing what to wear you come across a dress. You remember Hank telling you how beautiful you looked in that dress so you go for it. You look for matching heels before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. Once you’re done you dry your hair, put on some make up and get dressed. You take one last look into the mirror before taking your purse and your keys leaving your house.

20 minutes later you arrive at his place. Your heart is beating really fast and you’re a little nervous. You take on last look in the review mirror checking your makeup before getting-it heading to his front door. You know and soon after he opens the door.

’’Hey Y/N’’ he says with a huge smile on his face.

’’Hey Hank’’ you say and he pulls you into his strong arms and kisses your head. You breath in his scent and it calms your nerves a little bit. He lets go of you and says:

’’You look absolutely stunning darling. C’mon in.’’ you follow him inside and he leads you to his back yard. Once you’re there you can’t help but stare at the sight in front of you.

A table for two. Fairy lights and a lot of candles all over the porch.

’’You hate it don’t you?’’ his voice brings you back to reality. Hank took your silence the wrong way. You turn around and look at him with a soft smile.

’’Hank Oh my god. Why would I hate it. Its absolutely amazing. I love it. No one and I mean no one has ever done nothing like this for me before. Thank you so much’’ you say.

’’I’m happy you like it. Well looks like no one before me knew how to treat you properly.’’ he says and you reply with a short.

’’Looks like it.’’ You take a seat and Hank leaves you to get the dinner he prepared for the 2 of you. You look around still not believing that someone like Hank makes so much effort - for you. He shortly return and it smelly heavenly. he sets the plates down on the table.

’’I hope you like it. It was my grandmas recipe.’’ he says and blushes. You grab your fork and take a bite. You close your eyes and this is for sure the best piece of meat you’ve ever had in your entire life.

’’I think I’m going to kidnap you and keep you as my personal cook. Like for real. Hank this is so so good.’’

’’I’m glad to hear. Do you seriously think you’ll be able to kidnap me Y/N?’’

’’No but it sounds good’’

’’Well you wouldn’t have to kidnap me I would you with you anytime’’ he says and winks at you. You blush and look down at your plate hoping you can hide it. Little did you know it was too late for that. Hank saw it.

After the both of you finished eating Hank cleans the table. You offered to help him but the declined right away.

He returns to you with blankets and pillows. You raise your eyebrows and he walks past you and spreads one of the blankets on the lawn he nods with his head for you to come over and you do.

’’Have a seat beautiful it’s now time for stargazing.’’ he says and you sit down. He sits down next to you and hands you a blanket with the words.

’’Incase you get cold’’ you take it thanking him.

He lays the pillows down behind the both of you and lays down looking up to the sky. You watch him for a moment before doing the exact same thing. You lay there in silence - a comfortable silence. You’re thankful Hank did all of this for you.

’’How did you know I like stargazing? I can’t remember telling you about it.’’ you ask him curiously. ’’Well Bishop told me when I asked him why he calls you his little star. So when I thought about what to do on our first date this is what came to my mind. We both aren’t the type for super fancy restaurants so I thought cooking for you and watching the stars with you would be a good idea. At least I hope you feel the same.’’ he says grabbing your hand.

’’Ah now it makes sense. You’re right I don’t need all that fancy stuff. It’s not about the amount of money you spent on me. This night couldn’t have been more perfect. No one made the effort for me before like doing something like this you know?! Usually the guys I dated before simply took me out to one of those fancy restaurants. You just thought about what would make me happy and I really appreciate it Hank. I’m so thankful to be here with you and the stuff you did for me tonight.’’ you say having tears in your eyes - happy tears.

’’I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all I wanted sweetheart. The night isn’t over yet.’’ he says before leaning into you. You move closer to him as well and shortly after your lips collide. This is the moment you have been waiting for the whole night. Hank grabs your face and pulls you closer. You move your hand to his chest resting it there. He’s the first one to pull away. The two of you stare at each other sniveling like crazy before Hank speaks up.

’’I know its early and stuff but - could you imagine being my girl?’’ he asks you and you nod.

’’Yes I actually can. I’d be honored to be yours. We just have to keep it to ourselves for a while. Until I figured out how to tell Bishop you know. You guys aren’t the only ones with rules. He also told me that you guys are off limits.’’

’’I can live with that but we shouldn’t wait too long. I don’t wanna betray him this is more than just us you know his not trusting me any more is probably the worst thing that could happen - club wise. Besides I want to show off my beautiful woman and not hide her away from the world.’’ he says. You grab his hand and stroke the back of it.

’’I agree with you babe. The next party at the clubhouse is next week as far as I remember. We should probably have it figured out by then.’’

’’Yes we should.’’

It’s starting to get colder and your freezing by now even with the blankets you’re wrapped in.

’’Hank? I’m cold’’ you say and he gets up.

’’Let’s head inside.’’ he says and you get up as well. You help him picking up the blankets and pillows before going inside. Once you’re inside he says

’’As much as I love seeing you in that dress - do you want some warmer clothes? I can’t risk my girl freezing to death.’’ he asks you and laughs.

’’Yes that would be nice.’’ he leads you to his bedroom and hands you a hoodie and sweatpants.

’’There you go’’ he says and you thank him.

’’I’ll make you tea how does that sound?’’

’’Yes please’’ he nods and leaves the room so you can get changed,

After you’re finished you go back to the living room where he is waiting for you with he promised tea. You sit down next to him and say

’’Is it bad that I don’t wanna go home tonight?’’ he looks at you and replies

’’Is it bad that I don’t want you to?’’

’’I guess I’ll be staying then’’ you say and smile at him before taking a sip of your tea.

The both of you just sit there talking until early in the morning. The day couldn’t have been better for you. You had a perfect date with an incredible man. You know have a boyfriend that cares for you. You also came up with a plan to drop the news on Bishop. Looks like going to the clubs house more often wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Taglist:

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@mayans-sauce

@lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo

@spookys-girl

@queenbeered

@ocetevasgirl

@charcoocheurie

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #hank loza #hank x reader

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waywardfacegarden · 4 years

Note

Hey there! I saw that "ask me about my fic" post and thought I'd ask some questions!! Specifically regarding your "The sun is too bright, it hurts" one; questions 1, 3, 4, 7 and 8? 👀

Hello there!!! First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, YOU’RE SO NICE!!!!! ;---; Honestly, I love you so much.

Second of all, AAAAAH, THAT FIC. I really love that one, is one of the first works I did for my boys!!!! I have a soft spot for it. (That said, I actually reread it to answer this LOL, because as much as I remembered a lot of it, I also didn’t remember a lot of specifc dialog/narration of it, haha.)

Answers under the cut because I, somehow, managed to do this unnecessarily long, LOL. I’m sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope you don’t mind me babbling a lot about my own fic, haha.

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Well, I was inspired to write that AU because I’m weak for the idea of Sasuke and Naruto being childhood friends!! Haha. And I just easily pictured them growing up together with their families being friends. It’s something that I think would happen in a modern au, and I really wanted to explore the relationship of two people growing up together, being there in all of their different phases (and the challenge of having to write them at different ages, because as much as the essence of who they are is the same, they don’t act exactly the same, you know?), knowing each other better than anyone else. They would come to love every single one of the aspects that makes them them; like, even if something must be annoying, it’s endearing for the other at this point, and I find that very tender and soft.

As for the way that it’s written, I find it easier to guide myself while writing if I divide the story in “short stories/scenes”, so that’s why it’s like that (if you look at my fics, I always “divide” my stories, haha). I also really like the narrative that goes, for example, “October. 1990. 15 years old.”, because, (for me at least), it’s so much easier to imagine the environment/context/scene like that? It also gives me off movie vibes, tbh😂😂

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I apologize in advance because I’m going to make this reply excessively long, even when the ask is so simple😂😂 While I was re-reading, I found a lot of quotes/parts that I liked a lot, so please indulge myself and look at all my word vomit, lol (the parts in bold letters are what I especially love about that specific excerpt):

[[AH! AND ALSO! I realized I made a LOT of grammar mistakes in the fic when I was re-reading today, it’s kind of embarrassing ahhh, haha. It needs heavy editing, huh. But anyways, so, in some lines here, I changed some words for what I actually wanted to write/what’s grammatically correct, now that I know more about english, haha. So in some lines they’re a bit different from the actual fic.]]

My favorite, favorite line, for reason, is this one:

Sasuke’s heart flutters on his chest, like flower’s petals in the wind, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

I don’t know, I really, really, REALLY love metaphors and I like the way it was phrased here?? Like, the words I chose sound so pretty for me, haha.

My second favorite line is this one, simply because I’m a cheesy dork:

Sasuke does not know when he fell in love with Naruto; he probably was always a bit in love with him.

Another lines of narration I really, really love:

His love for Naruto reminds him of that. Destruction. Storms, tornadoes. Because it’s brutal, too intense, too strong. It is inexhaustible. It’s unexpected and unpredictable and it makes his stomach ache.

^^ That one is just. Really what I think Sasuke feels like about falling in love, and more than anything, falling in love with Naruto, so I really love it. I have an obsession on making love sound messy and chaotic, too, tbh, haha. Guilty.

[…] and his voice sounds tired, because he’s tired, he can’t stand it anymore, and he’s stupid, stupid, stupid, because Sasuke wants to cry, and because Sasuke wants to kiss Naruto while he cries because Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking, but he can’t, he can’t and that’s hard.

I really like this one because I honest to God think Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking (and I’m saying this like a good thing, he’s my favorite disaster, haha). He’s just, idk, really a disaster, and I can easily picture him having a meltdown because he loves Naruto so much that he can’t even stand it, and he’s tired of hiding it, and he’s tired of everything, and he just wants to fucking cry but he also wants to kiss Naruto AND kiss Naruto while he cries, even if that’s weird. Idk, Sasuke just strikes me as the kind of guy who would want to kiss the love of his life while crying, LOL.

[…] he’s so close that, for a moment, the only thing he can see is blue. Blue, blue, eternal, endless, inexhaustible, precious blue; that swallows him, that overwhelms him, that suffocates him.

I remember being so proud of this part because, as you can see, I’m obsessed with Naruto’s eyes😂😂 And then when I showed the story to my sister she laughed her ass off here LMAO. She gave me A Look. LOL. She saw through me like a book, she knows I just tried to sound poetic but I suck LOL. But I still really like this part.

And Naruto is smiling, and Naruto is there and everywhere and Sasuke wants to drown in him.

So he does.

ASDJLFJLSDFKDL. The idea of Sasuke wanting to drown in Naruto is just. I love it, lol.

He kisses him as he should be kissed. […] He kisses him and Naruto kisses him back and Sasuke almost sighs. Because it feels so good to be real; because it feels like falling into bed after a long and tiring day. It feels like a hot shower against your aching body and like the emotion you feel when climbing a roller coaster.

For some reason, I love writing kisses, LOL, and I wanted to convey so much through this one. Like both of them have been wanting to kiss the other for years, now, but you could feel Sasuke’s desperation especially, and I really wanted the kiss to feel like “God, finally, finally” but also “this is it. This is what home feels like”. I feel like it probably still lacks something, but I still like how I put it into words.

[Now, I really hope you don’t hate me for this LOL, but I’ll add the complete parts I like, even when they have dialogue. It’s this case where bold letters are the lines that I especially love about the part.]

Naruto takes a step forward, a long one, and cuts the distance between them. Sasuke’s heart flutters on his chest, like flower’s petals in the wind, like a butterfly flapping its wings. Naruto is so close that Sasuke can see the three soft freckles on his cheekbones. He can distinguish each one of his golden eyelashes shining against his eyelids. He can see the way the iris in his eyes is darker on the edge; the shape of his lips, cracked, that make Sasuke’s mouth become very dry. And heck, they are moving, so Naruto is talking.

“Sasuke,” Naruto says, and his voice is soft and soothing in the loneliness of the hallway. His fingers are like burning embers when he places them on his shoulder. “Look at me, Sasuke.”

And Sasuke obeys. He turns around and looks at him, and Naruto has a storm inside those pretty eyes, and Sasuke just wants… he just wants… “Honestly, I would kill myself if I had that face.”

God fucking dammit.

“He was talking about you.” He answers, finally, and his voice gets stuck and tightens in his throat.

Naruto blinks, surprise flooding the light blue of his eyes. “Oh,” he says, so low that if they were not four inches away in a desolate corridor, Sasuke would not have heard it.

“Itachi is waiting for me.” He says, because he really wants to leave; he wants Naruto to stop looking at him like that.

“Itachi asked me to check up your injuries, Sasuke. Itachi is not angry. I guess he deduced what happened, he’s smart, so…”

“I’m not hurt, Naruto. Now let me go.”

Naruto stops pressing the cold gauze on the torn skin of his knuckles. The soft fabric burns and itches on his skin, but not as much as the way Naruto keeps looking at him, hell.

They are 15 years old and Naruto is the most beautiful boy he has ever seen. Naruto has grown up and he’s taller now, almost as tall as Sasuke is, and has the most beautiful blue, cerulean eyes (beautiful as the clear water of the lakes, beautiful as the sky on summer mornings), and long, blond eyelashes and cute lips and messy hair kissed by the sun. He’s gorgeous. And maybe Sasuke is paying too much attention, but hell, it’s hard not to.

They are 15 years old and Sasuke would hit a three-meter bully for that boy. Sasuke would do anything for that boy.

He says, with a smile that covers half of his face. His hair is messier than usual and several blond strands fall on his forehead. His blue eyes sparkle in the darkness. His blue shirt sticks to him in all the right angles and Sasuke thinks if you were not so damn attractive, I would surely kill you right now, you idiot. But he doesn’t say it, because of course, that’s not something you would say to your best friend.

“Naruto, I’m not going to get into your father’s van in the middle of the night and drive to a Waffle House at twelve in the morning.”

Naruto seems confused. He keeps his balance on the window frame and raises his hand to show him the set of keys. “No problem, Sas. I have the keys.”

- [I really like this one because just, the idea of them going to a Waffle House in the middle of the night is a favorite of mine, and the dialogue of Sasuke being like “i’m not going to drive to a waffle house at fucking 12am” and Naruto being just like “no worries, i have the keys” because he thinks the problem is that Sasuke doesn’t want to steal the car is so funny LMAO. Also, I live for Naruto calling him “Sas”.]

Damn fucking Naruto. Fuck his stupid heart. Fuck the one who decided up there that it would be a good idea to give him a nice smile and a beautiful personality and the eyes of Gods. Fuck the one who decided it would be good for Sasuke to fall in love with a stupid blonde with a heart of gold, stubborn as hell. Fuck the one who thought it would be a good idea for Sasuke to like his best friend. Fuck the one who decided that Waffle Houses could open for 24 hours. Fuck Naruto with his beautiful eyes; damn, damn, damn and fucking dammit.

- [I LAUGH SO HARD AT THIS PART. Like poor dude, he’s just so Done about having a crush and being in love with his Best Friend LMAO. I love how he curses the Gods and Everyone and Naruto Especially while also changing and going downstairs to go out with said crush.]

It’s strange that he’s so quiet, but at least Sasuke can look at him out of the corner of his eye from time to time. And when the light from the headlights on the side of the street hits him right in the face, and Sasuke can admire how beautiful he is, how stunning his eyes are and how bright they look and how his hair is gleaming and the so pretty and alluring that is the whole him, all of him… is those moments when Sasuke thinks that, maybe, it was not such a bad idea that Naruto woke him up in the middle of the night to drive to a Waffle House. Maybe, it’s not so bad that Naruto is crazy. Maybe, it’s not so bad that Sasuke is in love with him.

You know how in that tragic movie where the girl has cancer she says something in the beginning like “I fell in love with him like falling asleep, suddenly and without realizing it”? Yes, well. Sasuke used to make fun of that, even if Naruto thought it was very romantic. But now, as he sees his best friend smiling in a damn suit that fits his body in all the right places, now that he sees him laughing with the gym lights doing wonders on his tanned skin, now that he is listening to him talk and laugh and just being him, being happy… now he understands it. Sasuke does not know when he fell in love with Naruto; he probably was always a bit in love with him. He does not know when it happened or why, the only thing he knows now is that he is completely, totally, utterly, head-over-heels in love with him, so much so that it is ridiculous.

The realization hits him. Hard and strong against his stomach, like the thousands of stones and heaps of earth in an avalanche. Destroying cliffs, roads.

It’s like when you have a leak in your house and you do not fix it and you probably don’t realize the damage it is doing until after weeks the hole on the cement floor is too big to ignore. It’s like the snowball that is falling and growing on the steep hill that you don’t notice until it’s too late.

It’s just like that.

And the realization is so big and so brutal that it terrifies him, because Sasuke not only loves Naruto, Sasuke is in love with him. He loves every damn part of him in the rawest and realest way possible and it scares him so much that he can’t stand it.

“Naruto. I’m not in the mood,” he says, and his voice sounds tired, because he’s tired, he can’t stand it anymore, and he’s stupid, stupid, stupid, because Sasuke wants to cry, and because Sasuke wants to kiss Naruto while he cries because Sasuke is a damn tragedy walking, but he can’t, he can’t and that’s hard.

[…] he’s so close that, for a moment, the only thing he can see is blue. Blue, blue, eternal, endless, inexhaustible, precious blue; that swallows him, that overwhelms him, that suffocates him.

He’s as close as that time when they…

“Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot.” He says, his breath warm against his own lips.

[…]

He’s as close as that time when they kissed.

Naruto is kissing him, Holy…

It’s abrupt and so sudden and Sasuke has not closed his eyes, (Sasuke can’t even believe it to begin with, because they’re kissing), but Naruto does, so he can see the thin, long golden lashes that flutter softly against his own cheekbones. They tickle him. He can see the cascade of hair on his forehead and the mess of color on his skin and everything is so familiar. The cracked feeling of his lips, the blue so close, the hair that tickles Sasuke… It’s making him dizzy. Everything is so familiar, and yet so different at the same time. It’s coarser, stronger.

Naruto doesn’t seem to know what he is doing though; he just keeps pressing his lips so hard against his that Sasuke thinks he might knock a tooth out of him. His fingers continue to cling to his tie, crumpling it between his fingernails, and it’s…

Sasuke doesn’t care. Because Naruto is kissing him, and even if he’s clumsy, Naruto is kissing him, and his heartbeat thunders into his ears, the blood rushes in his veins and everything is chaos.

With Naruto everything is chaos.

Like the storms.

Like hurricanes.

Everything is too intense and strong and…

“You know what?” He says, and he continues laughing, but not so much anymore. “Ino said you would make exactly that face.”

Sasuke blinks. What?

“Did you tell Ino about—” Sasuke doesn’t quite know how to define it, even if he’s supposed to be good with words, so he just manages to move his hand between them in a movement that Naruto would do, and adds, “—this?”

Naruto gives him a sideways little smile. “Actually, I told Shikamaru, Ino was just there.”

Once again. What?

“What?”

Naruto grins. Bright and toothy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Sasuke, teme. You’re easier to read than you think.”

Sasuke is about to yell at him because what? But then Naruto’s smile softens, and it’s sweet and tender and intimate. And the words that come out of his lips moments later roll off his tongue and roll up through the air and dance and spin and hit Sasuke with such force that he practically staggers.

“I love you too, you bastard.”

It’s too much.

And Naruto is smiling, and Naruto is there and everywhere and Sasuke wants to drown in him.

So he does. He takes a step and closes the distance between them and drowns in him.

One of his hands takes him from the suit and brings him closer while the other slips behind him and mixes with the strands of hair that are too soft against his skin. And then he kisses him again. He kisses him as he should be kissed. He kisses the brain out of him and leans against his personal space and enters his bubble of warmth, the warmth that radiates from every pore of his being. He kisses him and gets drunk with his smell and his skin and all of him.

He kisses him and Naruto kisses him back and Sasuke almost sighs. Because it feels so good to be real; because it feels like falling into bed after a long and tiring day. It feels like a hot shower against your aching body and like the emotion you feel when climbing a roller coaster.

It’s all at once.

Rawly intense and gently soothing.

It’s chaos.

And he kisses him again and again and again and again and again and again and again until he loses the count.

“You know what?” Naruto says in a moment. His voice is agitated and his breathing is uneven and unsteady and he is trying to pull more air inside of him. And his lips are a little swollen and Sasuke kisses him again, short and fast, before he speaks again, because Sasuke can’t help it and stop now. “Now that I think about it, I’m much better at expressing myself than you are.”

“Shut up, usuratonkachi.”

Naruto laughs. And it’s the most beautiful thing Sasuke has ever heard before.

ALSO. I absolutely ADORE the part where they’re 15. Like, how Sasuke keeps thinking “Naruto’s too much” because his sole presence overwhelms him, the fact that he keeps thinking about kissing him, the fact that he can’t take his eyes off him, the fact that he hit someone so freaking hard because they said they would “kill themselves if they had that [Naruto’s] face”, the fact that he was jealous of girls noticing Naruto because of his looks, because “yeah, Naruto was so goddamn attractive (he keeps thinking about touching him, wondering about how his skin would feel against his fingers, wanting to touch his face, his hair, daydreaming about his eyes. Dude is just Gone LOL), but ALSO, would yOU DUMB GIRLS HEAR ABOUT HIS STORIES ABOUT RAMEN??? WOULD YOU HEAR HIM BABBLE ABOUT HIS FAVORITE DUMB MOVIES AND POP MUSIC??? WOULD YOU??? WELL, I DO!!!! SO FUCK OFF!!!!!!” LMAO. I LIVE for Sasuke’s Gay Crisis and him realizing he finds his best friend criminally attractive and endearing.

(I’M SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS ANSWER SO LONG, OMG).

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Because I’m predictable and also because, like I said, I’m a cheesy dork, my favorite line is: “I love you too, you bastard.” It just has so much power, for me. It’s so intimate and I love how Naruto says “too” even when Sasuke doesn’t say it out loud before, because Naruto just knows. It’s so gentle, even when he’s calling him “bastard” (that at this point is actually a pet name rather than an insult LMAO).

Bonus to:

“Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot.”

I really love it LMAO. I like it because I find it funny that it’s what Naruto says just before he kisses him, but also because it’s actually so tender, too??? Like Sasuke was all “MAYBE I DON’T LIKE YOU ANYMORE, HUH?!?! MAYBE AFTER ALL THESE YEARS I FINALLY GOT TIRED OF YOU”; he’s throwing all this drama but he’s actually spilling his heart out and Naruto can see all through it, he can literally see what he’s actually thinking, and it just. Hits. Hard. So he’s just like, “I’m gonna cut this bullshit right here” and goes “Sasuke, you’re a fucking idiot”, with a tone that basically means actually that, like “sasuke, you fucking IDIOT. i KNOW. i KNOW. stop hurting yourself”, and it just gets me, haha.

“Do you want to go to the prom with me?” […] “I’m serious, Sas. I want you to go with me.”

I was so excited when I wrote those two lines. Again, I’m weak for Naruto calling him “Sas”, and I wanted so bad Naruto asking him to prom. Even if it’s not with a big gesture, it FEELS like so much for both of them. And I wanted to make sure that it sounded like he wasn’t joking around, even if he made the proposal “easier to digest” by phrasing it later like he was asking Sasuke just because he was his best friend and he wanted him to have fun with him (which, yeah, but he also knew about Sasuke being in love with him, and Naruto was, too, so he was just being assertive in the situation, trying to make it easier for Sasuke because he knows him, and he knows how big it already feels like for him just being asked as a friend).

“Because I want you to take your head out of your ass for a moment and have fun with your best friend?”

Naruto telling Sasuke to take his head out of his ass is my favorite thing ever LMAO.

7. Where did the title come from?

To be honest, I’m TERRIBLE to put titles. I always forget to name my fics, because I focus on the story itself first, haha. I always save the docs in word like “childhood friends au sns” or “christmas au” or things like that, planning to actually name them later, but I ALWAYS forget to do it. I always remember when I actually have to put a name to it because I’m about to post it on AO3 and it asks me for a title first, LOL. So, basically, this one (and all my other titles) came up last minute. I have always liked when Naruto is compared to the Sun (I do it at the end of the fic, too, haha), and I thought the fic itself revolves around Sasuke’s love for Naruto, Sasuke’s journey to get to know Naruto and fall for him, and Sasuke realizing his feelings and being constantly overwhelmed by them because of they’re so strong and so deep and because Naruto just feels like Too Much sometimes (in a good, messy way) to him. So I thought it was accurate to call it “The Sun is too bright, it hurts”, because for me, it basically encompasses what the fic is about: Naruto is too much sometimes that it actually hurts Sasuke, because he Can’t Handle Feelings and it’s Suffocating and Overwhelming and Scary, but it’s okay at the end, because Naruto feels just as much as him. (I actually wanted to add “but it’s okay” at the end, but I felt like it was too long already LOL).

8. Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

It’s not actually real people or real events, but I actually based the scene where Sasuke saves Naruto from getting run over by a car from one of my favorite, favorite scenes in Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. It’s a lot like the one there in the book, but I found it a very Sasuke Thing to do, and I also liked how it lined up with the fact that “Sasuke’s feet moved on its own” in actual canon. Boy is willing to give his life for Naruto in any universe and I respect that, LOL.

The scene where people were talking shit about Naruto’s face is based from a scene I watched on the movie Wonder. I always cry with the movie and I had just watched it before writing the fic, so I wanted to write something based on that scene because it got me hard.

It’s also pretty obvious, but the accidental kiss is there because I absolutely Love it and I have mad respect for Kishimoto for that, so if I can, I’m going to make that accidental kiss happen in every single fic I write for them LOL.

Anyways, that would be all!!!!! I’m so sorry for making this hella long, lol, but I’m honestly so happy you were curious about this fic!!!! Like I said, I have a soft spot for this one, just as much as I have a soft spot for SNS. They will always be my favorite boys and my favorite ship ever. And I really enjoyed re-reading my own stuff and remembering my feelings while writing it years ago. AND IT JUST. MEANS A LOT TO ME???? This fic is from YEARS ago, and the fact that you ask about it just means more than I can express with words. SO, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, HONESTLY.

I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING AN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT. I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BEYOND. HOPE YOU’RE SAFE, OKAY AND HAPPY. <333333333333333 LOTS OF LOVE FOR YOU!!!!!

#asks #my writing #my fics #sns #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING YOU'RE SO SWEET I CAN'T BELIEVE IT #i love you!!! ;--;#i really really appreciate it #and i really really hope you're doing fine #SENDING YOU HUGS AND WARM POSITIVE VIBES!!!!!!!!#the sun is too bright it hurts #this is soooo criminally long tho #i'm so sorry omg #why am i like this #why do i talk a lot

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teen-avocado · 6 years

Text

Who me? (story time)

Okay so basically after rereading my last rant im gonna format this a whole lot better because that hurt to read through lmao. Anyway to the tea! So diving straight in I didn’t have to go to work with my mom yesterday and i was lowkey hype so im enjoying my time and suddenly it’s like 4 in the fucking morning and i finally go to sleep only to wake up 2 hours later to turn off my 6am alarm that i have yet to turn off because why not? I go back to sleep and suddenly another 2 FUCKING HOURS LATER my mom walks into my mom saying Im going to work with her, and i’m just like ‘yeah, okay’ and so i go back to sleep even tho im supposed to be getting ready and i wake up not even an hour later by like some divine intervention and i start getting ready keep in mind my brother didnt have school today and got to stay home...im still fucking shook. But anyways i go to work with her and the entire time she’s like I have show houses at like 2:30. Then we finally get to the blessed time and my mom just is like ‘ you’re staying here at my place of work where you know no one and dont feel comfortable and are going to work on your school stuff like you supposed to be doing earlier before even tho i clearly saw you earlier working on it, and ill comeback and do some more FUCKING WORK’ so basically im dying. So i sit here for hours waiting for her to get back and by the time she gets back it’s like 5:30 keep in mind we got here at 10:45 and that’s already like 8 hours and here’s the entire time ive thought it was wednesday only to find out its friday. So i haven’t done anything this break but work on school stuff. So im a rightfully a little upset. Moving to a different subject i kinda feel like im losing all of my friends which i understand, but it still hurts tho. I feel like they dont invite me to things anymore like they either wait for me to invite me to things or not at all. Im also retreating more into my shell and i have no idea what to say anymore and it’s becoming a big problem because im usually a loud and outspoken person but i can barely keep a conversation going anymore and im starting not to be able to speak english that well anymore as you can probably see from this entire post which probably is trash because the grammar and all that good stuff. I’ll come back to the sad part in another rant so look forward to it i guess. <3

#my rants

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bts7writings · 6 years

Text

My Harmony II

Part I | Part II | ???

Pairing: Reader x Chanyeol

Genre: Smut | Fluff | Humor

Words: 3K

See you tomorrow? It’s Chanyeol by the way

You reread the words, scolding yourself for feeling any sort of giddiness from it, the universe just seems to love testing your limit. You tap on his number and save it to you contact before responding.

With that proper grammar? Don't think so? Kidding - See you tomorrow.

You suck on your teeth and make a point of leaning you phone as far form you as you can to decrease any amount of distraction. If he texts back you will not answer, you chant in your head as you open your first folder of work.

This chant works just fine, until you start moving onto pile number two, when the small vibrations from your phone carry throughout your desk. Contemplating the seriousness of your work ethics, your hand inches to grab your phone; Fully expecting it to be one of your friends to nag you about how you're spending your weekend.

“Y/n?”

You pull yourself away from your phone to double check exactly who you were talking to that managed to manifest rough deep consensual intercourse into a voice. Ffffuck me

You lips your lips once over and try to keep your voice monotoned. “Why are you calling me?”

“Um…because I have your number now?” You hear him laugh slightly at your question, bringing a small smile from you.

“That doesn’t mean you can-“

“I know I just wanted to hear your voice - I thought texting was enough, but I like your sarcastic tones better.”

There’s an awkward silence after his blunt confession. It’s a known fact that idols are known to flirt with staff and other idols - they’re human too. It’s also a known fact that you can get screwed over if you carry on thinking they are just normal people you can hang around with. One day you could be on cloud nine dating Korea’s top boyband and the next thing you know you’re rocking the “I got my hair pulled by a fan and might get fired if he gets tired of me” look.

“Chanyeol…” you warn despite your accelerated heart rate.

“Y/n…” he imitates your tone and scoffs, “why aren’t you signed to the company”

Your eyes roll again unable to stop, you weren’t an idol becuase you didn’t like the public scene, but telling him that would mean you were telling something personal. “That wouldn’t fix your problem of liking me, so-”

“Is it just my problem? Don’t you want to be the problem too?”

“I-“ you get interrupted by a beep from him side, another call. “You should probably answer that”

“It’s nothing important. Finish what you were saying”

“It could be your manager - answer it”

“It’s just a call from Yi. Y/-“

And there goes your own thoughts on the mater on whether you like him or not. We’re talking about a male idol that can, will, and probably does get any girl he wants.

“Of course” you roll your eyes, typical - sarcasm levels at 100%. “Why wouldn’t a new female staff have your number?”

“No- it’s not like that”

“Call her back, I have massive piles of work and don’t have time to entertain you.” Before you can hear a cute remark from his end you shut down your phone.

“This is bad news, y/n and you know it.” You whisper to yourself resuming to your work piles.

. . . .

Maybe shutting down your phone wasn't the best idea.

The next morning, well afternoon since thats around the time it should be legal to wake up, one huge grey car was parked on the path towards the buildings garbage disposal.

Having to walk all the way around it, you mentally cursed out the personing owning the car. As you barely passed the car, your eyes were halted mid roll as the horn was pressed to cause a semi heart attack.

You turn around not sure if you're pissed off enough to actually cause a scene, but the only words that would come out were, “Oh god...” as the lowering car windows presenting none other than Park Chanyeol.

Turning your body around completely, you shift the weight of your garbage bag towards the ground “How did you even know I lived here? What-”

“I may or may not have gotten your address from my manager.” His every present smile is fresh on his face as he leans over his seat for you to hear him more clearly.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! Why-”

“I thought you weren't coming since you hung up on me last night...”

“Well you’re not wrong.” Your lips press in a thin line to stop any form of emotion from showing on your face. This kid can smell a bluff.

“Wait...right there!” He shuffles around with his seatbelt and shuts the engine off, opening his door to jog towards you.

As he closes up, you look around careful of any cameras.

“You left your window down?” You nod over, but he’s already taken your garbage bag from your hands.

“Do you live in such an unsafe neighborhood?” he jokes walking past you towards the disposal. “It’s like 5 feet away, Y/n. Wait for me in the car.”

You blink back the audacity and disbelief of this whole situation ,his movements are always carefree and relax making you wonder if he even know the danger of being outside simply because he’s Park Chanyeol.

“...And you're not in the car.” He jokes when he walks back, “You said you were going to help me with a song today, y/n”

He puts a gently hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger door. His other hand reaching to open the door. “Please?”

“Chanyeol...” You grab his arm with both of your hands, maybe he’ll fall for his own trick of puppy dog eyes.

“Y/n...” he mocks, leaning over to come closer to your face, obviously the true master of getting what he wants. “I’ll buy you food.”

Your tension melts with his present smile and offer of food; You shake your head in self disappointment as you take the seat being offered.

Before you have time to reject his offer again, he shuts your door and races to take the driver seat and start the car.

“Do you usually have to stalk girls to get them back to your place or...”

“It’s usually not this complicated,” he laughs and glances over at you, “So I’m guessing you didn't get my calls?”

“Yeah, I turn it off since I don't like the distraction”

“So I'm a distraction?” He teases, stoping at a red light.

“Currently? Yes. I had a lot of work and -”

“Yi, called all of the boys last night to go over names and specifications...” and there is the awkward silence that you always try to avoid. The light changes and he makes a turn. “It’s nothing like she called me to talk about anything personal....Honestly, a lot of people say that I flirt, but -”

“Chanyeol-”

“Y/n-”

“We’re not doing this” Your tone rises a bit, as you look over to see his face become devoid of emotions, “You don't need to explain your interaction with women. You know the conditions to my contract and I’m not going to break them.”

You could hear the tinkering going on in his head, “But that was waay before we even met, how-”

“You sleep with anyone you want, I don't get why you don't get the hint that I don't want that and -”

“Y/N-”

“- and if anything happened it’ll be my ass on the line, you can walk away scratch free, so just don't.”

The muffled noise outside is the only thing filling the void of tension and silence inside the car.

There’s no such thing as harmless flirting when it comes to these idols, one thing always leads to another and its not pretty for the normal person that has to put up with it their everyday lives after its over.

“Chan, listen-”

“I got it.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel, not able to stop his annoyance from covering is tone of voice.

“A-Alright”

. . . .

You set your bag onto the back of his desk as you observe the beautiful mess that accompanies music producing.

Water bottles everywhere, papers half written on sprawled around a keyboard and mouse, while the screen contains a beautiful puzzle ready to be assembled.

“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

True to word, Chanyeol ordered from a nearby chicken place and once you were finished eating you started reviewing his audio tracks one by one. Yes, he did playfully tease you when you put on your glasses and then again for putting you hair up after it kept getting in your space, but it’s full focus on his music.

“I’m thinking of one track just being a full on guitar solo.” he says renaming the track “g-solo”.

“You could place it in the beginning like an intro.” He nods at your suggestion renaming it again. You look over at your review papers and stare back up at the monitor. “What about track 3?”

“I have no idea” he groans, “It just doesn't right - all the other songs are working out fine, but this one-”

“Is a ballad” you clarify, “You’re voice isn't working-”

“Chen sang the demo for me and maybe it’s just not for me”

“What I was saying was” he rolls his eyes jokingly at your sassy commentary, “because you’re not complimenting your voice, you keep hiding it under the instruments.”

“So...”

“So..” you put your feet on the ground and drag your chair towards the desk, “let me find the harmony”

“My harmony?” His eyebrows come together frustrated as he plays the track again. After a couple of minutes of letting it play through you mind starts to work.

“The band should come after.”

“What?” You push his chair gently away from the center of the desk and replay the beginning of the track.

“Here, your voice plays for a bit before we get the other tracks in.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“Let me see,” you move in to grab the mouse and drag the playhead towards the area of conflict, while rearranging the instruments in the order you suggested. “This... here...”

You feel Chanyeol move closer towards your side, arm resting at the back of your chair, and his other hand stretching to point at his guitar audio track, “Can we turn the volume on that down?”

You follow his input, “We’re going to need to go back into the studio so you can add a second base, and - it’s better if I’m in the studio with you.”

“I can book the studio for Monday”

“Can you get the band booked for Monday?” You glance back at him quickly for his hesitance, “I mean we can book it another time when the bands’ free”

“Um..I play all the instruments myself.” Your eyebrows pull together and you turn your head to face him properly in disbelief.

“What? You recorded your voice and instruments..? How long does that even take you?” He nods and then shrugs.

“It’s tough.”

You want to scold him for not talking to you earlier - wait, no anyone else earlier. His life could be so much simpler if he asked for help in the first place. “It doesn't have to be that way, if you would've asked for help...”

“Yeah like that would turn out great...you didn't even want to come today.”

“Thats not the case”

“I had to basically drag you here myself”

“You could've asked someone else”

“I wanted you”

You turn around again to really let him have a piece of you mind, but realize how close you two actually were to one another.

His hand is still placed around the back of your chair, while his other arm is resting on the desk, basically trapping you to your chair. You turn in place towards him and rest a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention since he’s refusing to meet your eyes. “It is mot because I didn't want to help you, idiot. You keep flirting and -”

“You get scared of actually liking it?”

“I don't-”

“Can you just shut your pretty mouth for once?” He chides, “There are rumors of idols with staff, are some of them true - of course, but that doesn't mean everyones like that.” His eyes focus entirely on you now, “You know I’m not like that and you keep turning me down because of that.”

You fail to meet his gaze as you begin to recollect your morals. Chanyeol scoffs at your childish antic, reaching over to gently pull your face to him.

He doesn't say anything until your eyes connect, “You could fuck me physically and mentally right now If you wanted to, but you wont.”

A small gasp escapes you. Making you lower your eyes, in order to avert his stare, backfiring as they rest on his lips.

His tongue peaks out to lick his upper lip quickly before you see him mouth your name not letting his voice carry out. You try and look at his eyes so some sense can come through, but his attention wavers towards your own lips.

“You want me just as much as I want you” His head tilts to the side, hand climbing up to cup you cheek, his eyelids dropping to loose himself in you, “Permanently... not just for right now.”

And thats exactly what you-

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEP

“CHANYEOLLLLL”

You both jump from the sound of the intercom static filling the room with Baekhyuns’ voice. “YAH! I forgot my keys and I don't want to be lectured so I'm crashing here tonight”

You feel a bucket of cold water being poured onto you as you jump up from your seat completely, hearing Chanyeol groan out an insult and disregard the door completely, “Y/n?”

“Yeah? I mean no-” You get up passing a hand through you hair and begin looking around for your bag.

“I’m going to commit murder today because of you.” Chanyeol with great calamity hand you your bag, only to hold you in place for what to you is too long.

“Well it’s my cue to leave anyways.”

“I SEE YOUR CAR CHANYEOL. I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!”

“I’ll drop you off-”

“No, it’s fine” You feel your heart pushing towards another sprint and pull away from him trying to find a away out without being noticed. “Do you...do you have a back door?”

“But how are-” Chanyeol grabs you again so you stop fidgeting and focus on him. He centers you back close to him, ignoring his clearly annoyed best friend making a noise loud enough for the neighbors to be concerned, and passes his hand from the top of your head towards your cheek. “I can’t just let you go and -”

You’re fighting with yourself at this point. fighting to keep your heels on the ground and your lips untouched, he noticed your glance towards his lips. “I’ll call a friend” you barely let the sentence out, but you need to in order to assure him to let you go and assure yourself that you can leave alone - right now.

“YOU BETTER OPEN OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

Chanyeol's eyebrows pull together in frustration, knowing fully well that he can’t win this argument without you getting mad at him and that’s not what he needs right now. He needs to turn back time to that good place you were in a minute ago, turn back time and duck-tape Baekhyun’s keys to his forehead.

“Go through the kitchen and theres a door, call me when you get home - Y/n I mean it.”

. . . .

“Perfect timing” Chanyeol leaves the door open as he throws himself in his desk chair.

He made sure to grab one of his hoodies for you before you walked out the back door. Every cell in his being was fighting the urge to go back out there and take you home himself, especially after seeing who your friend was.

“That’s what I’m known for...” Baekhyun says absentmindedly closing the front door, heading strait for the kitchen to start searching through the fridge, “You’re out of soda.” A bit more rummaging and Baekhyun efforts are paid off with a bucket of leftover chicken. “So how did you date go?”

“It wasn't a date.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes as his friend sits himself down and starts eating. “She made herself perfectly clear that she's not that type of girl and that this wasn't a date.”

“Are we going to keep pretending I don't know who ‘she’ is?”

“Yup,” Chanyeol turns to save of the changes on the tracks

“But isn't that why you like her?” Baekhyun swallows his food before he continues, “Because she's not that type of girl?”

Chanyeol shrugs, “Maybe I’m coming off too strong?”

“Really? I thought you were toning it down with the whole stalking thing,” Baekhyun jokes. “But honestly, Yeol... Do you really think, if this ever goes anywhere, that the company going to accept it and everyone will live happily ever after?”

“I don't know, but if she keeps thinking the worse and yo keep running moments-”

A piece of meat was caught in Baekhyun’s throat and he started coughing both from his meal and the news. “Wait, you guys had a moment?”

“Almost,” he sighs remembering the warmth emitted from you, when you gasped. It was like he finally got you and the last thing he wanted to do was send you off in someone else car. “...until we were rudely interrupted by this homeless guy that came to eat my food.”

“Listen” Baekhyun takes his time deboning the chicken, “I texted you a good 3 times before I came over - you had more than enough time to tell me to not come over and since you didn't...”

“Didn't you think my no-response meant I was too busy?”

“Yeahhhhh” Baekhyun laughs at his own thought and shrugs innocently, “I was kinda hoping you guys were having sex so I could use it after as blackmail.”

__________________________________________________

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belphegor1982 · 6 years

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The Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter

Second and final chapter :o) (part 1 here) (the story on FFnet)

Chapter Two: Bad Decisions, Bad Lawyers, and Ballerinas

The other stories were longer, giving the men – and Hogan – things to do with their time for a week more. Which was a relief with the unholy combination of Major Hochstetter and execrable weather keeping all the prisoners in their barracks. They were used to living in each other’s pocket, but spending every minute of every day in a cramped space with no real possibility to go outside, play a sport that provided an excuse to run, or even just see the sky without standing at attention – that was hard, bordering on unbearable.

Thankfully, they not only had new reading material, which was rare enough, but a personal choice to make. Several men surreptitiously reread stories in order to be certain to cast their only vote in the right place. As a result, cabin fever didn’t sink in as much as it might have.

The list of stories (represented by numbers) pinned on the wall in Hogan’s office steadily acquired crosses. It also acquired another ‘M’ at some point, sandwiched between two at the top of the paper, making the title a mysterious ‘TMMMMDMWH’. Hogan pondered over the change in the acronym for their literary endeavour until Carter admitted to adding the extra letter.

“I thought, since Hochstetter’s a major and it’s about making sure he gets it in every kind of way possible, ‘The Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ would be… I dunno. Fitting? ‘Cause I really think he’s gonna get majorly mangled. That’s kind of the point, right?”

“Absolutely,” said Hogan, not certain whether ‘majorly’ was orthodox grammar but completely willing to overlook it as long as his men were happy. “That’s exactly the point, Carter. Nice touch.”

Carter smiled his lopsided grin, the one Hogan had come to associate with particularly successful explosions; it suddenly made him recall an especially messy Hochstetter death involving grenades, fireworks, and a cannon.

No need to wonder who the author was. It had been a long time since their resident mad bomber had something to blow up.

****

At long last, after one week, everybody had put a cross next to the story he preferred and the time came to compile the results and reveal the winners. The men gathered around the table and on the adjacent beds, looking eagerly at Hogan and the paper in his hands. He didn’t remember being the centre of such attention from that many men since the last time he had told them the Red Cross delivery truck would arrive on time for once.

“Right,” he began. “Here are the results of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest.”

“‘Majorly mangled’, huh?” said Newkirk. “I like the sound of that. Couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke.”

“Shh, I want to know the results!”

“Yeah, who won the gold?”

Hogan gave them a look, and Newkirk, Davies and Carter fell silent. “I figured I’d go with bronze first, then silver, then gold. So the bronze goes to…”

There were a few sharp intakes of breath. Hogan suppressed a smile and said, “Story number 6. That’s the one with the woodchipper. Who wrote it?”

Olsen raised his hand amidst grins and chuckles with a broad smile.

“Congratulations, Olsen.” Hogan grinned as he handed him the story. “Care to do the honours?”

Olsen took the paper, glanced around at everyone, and read.

****

Have you ever been chased by a pack of dogs? Not much fun, right? Well, that’s why Major Hochstetter was running so fast that night. He’d already left a boot and half a pant leg in the jaws of one of the dogs and he had no intention of giving them more than that.

A raid against the Underground had gone bad. Don’t ask me how, those Gestapo guys aren’t the talkative type, and it’s very unlikely that they’d talk to me (they prefer to ask the questions, anyhow). So one of the Underground people kept a dozen dogs, probably for hunting, and he set them loose on the black uniforms before high-tailing it.

The Gestapo scattered, and for some reason, all the dogs decided to hunt them some major, and believe me, they weren’t looking to play fetch. Not that Hochstetter had the time to stop to pick up a stick, too (or his gun, wherever he had dropped it). No, he ran for his life, like he had never run before. You always run faster if there’s something chasing you, anyway. He ran, he ran, and when he couldn’t run anymore, he ran some more. Behind him, the dogs were howling, as though they sensed their prey was tiring and they would close in on it soon enough.

Salvation came with the walls of a park and a trash can; he jumped on one to climb the other. Now laugh all you want; I know Hochstetter’s no athlete, but in those kinds of circumstances anyone can do acrobatics like that. He did huff and puff like the wolf from the fairy tale, though.

The dogs were still howling, and they tried to snap at his feet, but Hochstetter was out of their reach. He stood on the stone wall, straightened his jacket and sneered at the dogs.

And then he slipped and fell off the wall.

The good news was, this was the dog-free side. The bad news, well… He fell right into a woodchipper. Woodchippers are not exactly supposed to chip people, so what followed was ugly, noisy, and messy, and made the dogs run away whimpering.

The next morning, the gardener found a finger. He sent it to the police, on the grounds that it didn’t belong to him and its owner might miss it; but nobody ever claimed it.

****

The final sentence was punctuated by applause and snickers with a few mock winces thrown in. Floyd clapped Olsen on the back, laughing, while Kinch smiled in appreciation.

“You sure didn’t do things by half, did you?” said Saunders approvingly. “A bloody woodchipper. That’s just nasty.”

“You can talk,” Olsen retorted. “I know you wrote the one where Hochstetter goes to Australia and gets bitten, stung, poisoned, and eaten. Sounds like you made up half the critters in that story.”

Saunders’ expression was undeniably proud. “What can I say, Oz puts the ‘wild’ in ‘wildlife’.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ll take my pack of dogs over your drop bears any day. And those are about the only animals that make sense.”

“Funny you should say that, because—”

“Guys,” interrupted Kinch, “later, okay? I want to know who won.”

Hogan shook his head, and announced, “The silver medal – if we had one – goes to story number 12. Who wrote ‘Hochstetter’s Trial Tribulations’?”

Baker unfolded from his chair with a smile. People clapped his back and applauded as he made his way to the head of the table.

“Nice job,” said Hogan with feeling. He handed the corresponding roll of paper to Baker, who cleared his throat and began to read.

****

They kicked in his door at three in the morning. In retrospect, Major Hochstetter should have considered this a very bad sign.

“This is ridiculous!” he bellowed when Gestapo invaded his apartment, throwing clothes and books everywhere. Then he spotted Kluglicht, his assistant, and roared, “Kluglicht! What are these men doing here?”

Kluglicht, despite his name, was not the brightest bulb in the box, which was why Hochstetter had hired him in the first place: he was too dumb to question orders. He saluted his superior and stared at him blankly for half a minute.

Then a captain stopped in front of Hochstetter’s bed and clicked his heels.

“Major Hochstetter, you are hereby charged with treason and conspiracy to assassinate the Führer. Please follow us.” He paused and sniffed. “Once you’re decent.”

Obviously, dragging a Gestapo major clad in black and white death-heads pyjamas to headquarters was not done, even if he was a suspect.

Hochstetter was so shocked he didn’t even protest. At first.

They kept him locked up for three months, or maybe two weeks. It was hard to tell, without a window. The first few days, Hochstetter heaped invectives upon invectives on his invisible jailers; then he tried to shout he was innocent, and had absolutely no part in any conspiracy against Hitler, and so on. Then he ended up pleading and begging for someone to talk to him. (It has to be said that the first time he resorted to this, he whispered so that the fewer possible people heard him, which, you must admit, kind of defeated the purpose.)

The only visit he eventually got was Kluglicht, who brought him a stale cake with a broken nail file in it.

“Sorry, Herr Major, I had to use my brother-in-law’s oven and I think the nail file broke during the baking…”

“Never mind your brother-in-law, Kluglicht,” Hochstetter snarled, happy to finally have someone to yell at. “How long have I been here for?”

“I don’t know, Herr Major, what time is it?”

“Dummkopf! Give me the date!”

Kluglicht stared at him blankly, then appeared to think. A minute later he slowly nodded.

“It’s the… 6th. Of March. Right. Because last week we were in February and now we’re in March.”

Only a few days had passed since the arrest. Hochstetter stared at him.

“Oh, and they told me to tell you that your trial begins tomorrow.”

“Splendid,” growled Major Hochstetter. “I suppose I don’t get a lawyer, do I?”

“Yes you do, Herr Major.”

“Really!?”

“I volunteered, Herr Major.”

Hochstetter sat back and stared at the wall.

“They really want me dead.”

The trial was ugly, even for Nazi Germany, where ‘trial’ is a word that makes bad people smirk and good people shake their heads. At some point during the accusation, Kluglicht lost his footing completely and yelled, “That – that ain’t true!”, at which point the prosecution roared with laughter and Hochstetter pounced on his assistant-turned-lawyer and started to throttle him. They pulled him off Kluglicht with great difficulty and attempted murder was added to the treason charges.

In the end, when he was declared guilty, Hochstetter was almost resigned to his fate. He baulked when the guards took him back to his cell and handed him a gun, though.

“What on earth am I supposed to do with this, you idiot? Shoot you and escape so you can shoot me in the back?” That was his personal experience talking. “I bet it’s not even loaded.”

“Herr Major, there is one bullet in the gun.”

Ah. That sort of escape, then.

Wolfgang Hochstetter drew a breath, cocked the gun, and shot.

He missed and took out an ear instead.

They hanged him the next day.

****

Cheers, two-tone whistling, and applause broke out after the last sentence.

“Nice one! Not very original, as deaths go, but points for style,” Newkirk called out.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you could write like that, Baker!” exclaimed Carter admiringly. Baker acknowledged the compliments with a nod and a smile, his face flushed, looking somewhat self-conscious but pleased. Hogan waited until he was back between Saunders and Addison and the noise had died down to take up the list again.

“And now, the winner of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest – the story that got the gold. And the prize goes to—”

He was going to draw out the suspense a little bit, but was interrupted by the door opening, letting in an icy wind and a puzzled Sergeant of the Guard.

“What are you all doing?”

“Giving out Academy Awards, Schultz,” replied Hogan easily.

“What Academy?”

“Well, the Barracks Two Academy of Arts and Letters, of course. We just had a little contest and we were just about to announce who won the gold medal.”

“But you barged in before the Colonel could tell us,” said Carter in a tone that almost managed to be reproachful. “Boy, that’s rude.”

Schultz ignored Carter and peered at the paper in Hogan’s hands in a way he probably thought of as shrewd.

“A gold medal? And where did you get that, hmm?”

LeBeau rolled his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech, Schultz. It just means the story that won the contest.”

Schultz’s eyes jumped from the paper, to LeBeau, and back to Hogan. “What contest.” It hardly even sounded like an actual question.

Hogan crossed his arms and looked him in the eye. “Since the recreation hall is still closed and the Escape Committee put off escape attempts due to bad weather, we had to make our own entertainment. So we wrote a few short stories and had a little contest. What are you doing here?”

“Escape Committee. Jolly joker.” Schultz rubbed his hands then blew into his fingers before continuing. “I came here for a surprise check.”

Ah, yes. Another display of Hochstetter’s ‘ring of steel’ – surprise roll calls, random bed checks, and more or less regular head counts. The guards (Schultz in particular, since he was their own appointed barracks guard) were especially peeved about it, as it meant that not only did they have to make their rounds all day in the cold, with no possibility to take a five-minute break on a bench or take refuge in the barracks on a pretence of a chat, but all their furloughs had been cancelled. The current animosity rising against Major Hochstetter did not come from the prisoners only.

Hogan and his team had nothing going on, no reason to be down in the tunnel, not a single man missing – just as things had been for weeks. There was absolutely no reason to send Schultz on his way or distract him from counting the prisoners. Plus, just the look on his face when he realised what the overall theme of the contest had been had to have some entertainment value.

“Okay, Schultz, count all you like, we’re all here. Just let me tell the guys whose story won, and then the author can read it aloud. You can even listen to it, if you behave.”

There was a hopeful tint to Schultz’s frown.

“No monkey business?”

“None whatsoever. Just reading.”

Schultz nodded, still looking unsure. Hogan reported his attention to his list.

“And the winner of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest is –” he ignored Schultz’s startled squeak, always surprising coming from such a large man “– ‘Hochstetter and the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg’!”

Amidst the laughter and the applause, Schultz had gone pale, round blue eyes popping out. The thought occurred to Hogan than he might have made a fine silent comedy actor, once upon a time.

“What—what—what—”

“It’s the title, Schultz, try to keep up.”

“So,” said Olsen with a laugh, “who’s the guy who put Hochstetter in a tutu? Gee, thanks for the mental image. I’ll have nightmares all night.”

Hogan went to look at the rolls of paper in the basket and picked the right one. The writing was small, slanted, and a little cramped as the writer reached the end of the page. None of the stories had been signed, but somehow, it wasn’t hard to figure out who the author had been. He had to ask, however, and did with a grin. “So who’s the author of this fine piece of literature?”

Newkirk stood up with lazy grace and gave a mock bow. The twinkle in his eyes suggested he was much happier with the results than he let himself show. Hogan swapped places with him as he picked his story, unfurled it from its roll and began to read.

“Once upon a time…”

“Oh, it’s a fairy tale?” Schultz seemed to have gotten over his initial shock and was looking around hesitatingly. “It’s harmless then. Right?”

“I dunno, Schultzie,” said Newkirk. “Is it treason to listen to a story about the death of a Gestapo major? ‘Cause that’s what this is all about.”

Hogan started counting down to the moment Schultz would hear nothing, know nothing, and hightail it out of the barracks. Five… Four… Three…

To his surprise, when Schultz came to a decision, he didn’t go to the door; instead, he sat down on Carter’s bunk and laid his rifle on his knees with an expression not unlike a cat waiting for cream.

“I know I usually see nothing, hear nothing, and know nothing, but this I think I want to hear,” he said with a wink, as though sharing something that was part big secret and part highly amusing joke. A few chuckles and snickers answered him, and Newkirk went back to his paper with a grin.

****

Once upon a time, there was a Gestapo major who was a paranoid bastard.

All Gestapo majors are paranoid bastards if you ask me, but this one was special. He wanted to do everything himself in case some nasty old Underground members got him by surprise. He cooked his own food (badly), typed his reports (took him hours), and – especially – spent his days nosing around, watching people go about their lives. If he could have got himself to watch himself, he would have done it. That’s how paranoid he was, ladies and gents (but mostly gents, unfortunately).

One day, Major Hochstetter (for such was the name of our quirky paranoid Gestapo major) got a tip that an Underground member might be hiding amidst the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg.

The Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg have twenty-six girls, all between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two and a half, who are trained scrappers. They can use their feet in about forty-seven ways that no other girl between nineteen and twenty-two and a half can or should. One ballerina doing the grand jeté is able to break the noses of twelve men in twenty seconds.

Yes, they are a fearsome lot. What else do you expect from Nazis, mate?

Now, our esteemed major was in a major quandary, so to speak – but not for long.

He decided that someone should infiltrate the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg to find the mysterious Underground member.

And since he was such a paranoid bastard, he couldn’t trust anyone but himself for the task.

He had to clear with his superiors the fact that the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg would now count a member who was not, in fact, a girl between nineteen and twenty-two and a half, and was stockier and rather more hairy than the norm. His superiors thought he was a loony, so they waved him off and concentrated on something more serious, like stopping the eighty-three attempts to kill Hitler.

Major Hochstetter had trouble in the beginning, as you might guess. He only knew how to break people’s noses by punching them, or slamming them into walls; but this was ballet. You have to be graceful to do ballet dancing, even when you’re twisting a man’s arms behind his back and karate-chopping him into oblivion. Hochstetter had about as much grace as a rhinoceros stuck in a mud hole.

No, he did not break anyone’s nose with his feet, even on purpose. It takes skills and muscles he didn’t have.

But he was coming along nicely. The girls were starting to talk about letting him perform with them for the Heidelbergestburg Winterfest. He even had a lead or two as to the identity of his victim—er, suspect.

Every year, the Opera of Heidelbergestburg organised a special performance on the Heidelbergestburg Lake. It’s east of Berlin and very cold, so each winter the lake freezes over so much that a whole Panzer division can cross it on their way east (not that they do, they’re usually seen running the other way).

Hochstetter thought it the perfect time to unmask his suspect.

The upper crust sat in chairs carved in ice – because it was so chic – and applauded when the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg (plus one) skated their way gracefully (minus one) to the middle of the frozen lake. A band was playing The Blue Danube (the girls had insisted).

Hochstetter had never been on ice skates before, but he made a valiant effort. He could barely refrain from grinning, like the cat who watches the canary, knowing it will catch the bird as soon as it gets out from its cage. Between two pas de chat and just before the sauté, he caught up from the girl he suspected and whispered nastily, “I’m on to you, Fräulein.”

He really couldn’t wait for the moment when he’d arrest her, you see.

The girl only smiled and did a pirouette. Hochstetter went on with his sauté.

The finale involved him doing an arabesque while the girls formed a circle around him, but there was one problem. They did not stop at one circle.

In fact, they continued to circle him, faster and faster, until he just couldn’t move for fear of getting his face ice skated.

The leader detached herself from the group somehow, and smiled. It should have been a pretty smile, because she was such a pretty girl, but it sent shivers down Hochstetter’s spine.

She said, “You came here to find an Underground member, didn’t you, Major?”

He was scared and furious, but he nodded.

“Congratulations. You’ve found twenty-six.”

She took up her place in the circle before he had time to think of something clever to say.

When the ice broke, they all skated back, and watched him sink into the icy waters. They laughed when he cursed them, blew him kisses when he threatened them, and smiled the same smile as the cold took him and he finally went under.

There were a few bubbles, and that was it.

When his superiors heard of his death, they shrugged it off and went back to the plots against Hitler. One loony to deal with was enough.

****

“That was nice,” said Kinch after Newkirk punctuated his story with a resounding “The end”. Like the others, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Inventive.”

“Oh, Newkirk, that was wicked,” Schultz chimed in severely. The reproach in his tone quickly gave way to a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “But not bad.”

Hogan himself had enjoyed every word as well as Newkirk’s lively performance as a storyteller, and he applauded with the rest. “You really liked the idea of drowning Hochstetter, didn’t you, Newkirk?”

Newkirk’s grin would have put the proverbial cat to shame and given the proverbial canary a heart attack.

“Actually, sir, I reckon he froze to death before he drowned. But I really liked the tutu. And it’s not like he’s never danced before, is it?”

He looked pointedly at LeBeau, whose answer was a fierce glower and a muttered, “Oh, very funny. You know he almost broke my feet? I couldn’t walk normally for a week after those ‘dance lessons’1.”

“Il casse les pieds à tout le monde2,” Kinch pointed out. “Why should you be any different?”

The expression on LeBeau’s face was beautiful; there had to be a pun in Kinch’s words, Hogan thought, because it was halfway between outrage and absolute delight. If Schultz’s expression was anything to go by, he was just as confused as Hogan was – the difference being, he quickly shrugged it off, used as he was by now to not understanding the finer points of foreign languages, English or French.

“Colonel Hogan,” he said confidentially – in a stage whisper, that is, “I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Kommandant Klink received a phone call from Colonel Hertel two hours ago.”

“You don’t say?” said Hogan, keeping his tone light and mildly interested. Hertel was Hochstetter’s new superior, which was why he had given the go-ahead on the ‘ring of steel’ – most of the Gestapo hierarchy didn’t hide their impatience (or their disdain) of Hochstetter’s well-known Stalag XIII fixation.

“Misses his radio-detection truck, does he?” asked Newkirk. “Always knew these Gestapo blokes were the sentimental type, deep down.”

“Well – kind of. He said that since Major Hochstetter found nothing, he had a better use for the men and the equipment stationed at Stalag XIII. They leave tomorrow.”

The cheer that went up in the barracks might have been a little quieter than the receptions the winning stories had gotten, just in case, but there was a sudden definite lift in moods among the men. Hogan himself couldn’t help a smile as hope rose in his chest, like the warmth of a cup of good coffee. They would be back in business soon.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” he said to a Schultz who looked torn between fretting over the prospect of more monkey business and resigned to its (probable) inevitability. “Hey, you know what? Next time Hochstetter gets to police the camp, you’re welcome to our little writing contest. I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with.”

Schultz’s face fell. He all but fled to the door of the barracks.

“Colonel Hogan, I can listen to a story, because you were reading it and I was just there. Sometimes I don’t hear nothing. But participating? I won’t be able to say that I know nothing!”

The last word was guessed more than heard, since it was half muffled by the door closing as Schultz made a hasty tactical retreat. The news he had brought remained in the air, like a promise of better things to come.

Major Hochstetter would most likely not come to an ignominious end via frozen lake and Underground ballerinas, by shooting himself in the ear, or mauled by a pack of dogs. But Hogan swore to see to it that he would not evade judgement later, when the time came.

In the meantime, they finally had their whole range of weapons back – including, not the least, words.

THE END

Whoo-hoo! I’ve had that one in my WIPs since April 2013 – wrote pretty much the first chapter and the three contributions, then got stuck. Hope more stories will unstick like that!

Notes/Translations:

1 LeBeau having to give ‘dance lessons’ to Hochstetter is from “Six Lessons from Madame Lagrange”, in the 5th season. After rewatching though, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that Hochstetter is not shown stepping on LeBeau’s feet. Oops. (We’ll just say there’s an ellipse, won’t we.)

2Il casse les pieds à tout le monde: Taken literally, “he breaks everybody’s feet”, but it’s a figure of speech meaning “He gets on everybody’s nerves/He drives everyone up the wall”.

Thank you for reading! :o)

#Hogan's Heroes #my stuff #fanfiction

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the-three-eyed-ravenclaw · 7 years

Text

Of Monsters & Men - Pt. 2

Part One | Part Two (you are here)

Alright so I finally got around to proofing this. Wow. So. Many. Errors. And half the shit was confusing and unnecessary. I also saw that I had out my own name in where it was supposed to be Y/N like what the fuck? I am sorry for that mess, I have heavily edited this part so if you are going to read the next part I would reread this one.

Hope you enjoy!

Below are some choreography videos for the two songs that the reader dances to. These are somewhat what I imagined for these scenes. Also Below are links to the songs mentioned in the fic.

Havana

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUEU-dVUjVQ starting at 2:43

Desperado

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xyn8Go4frQ

Okay so it’s like 5 in the morning and I have been working on this for 6 hours straight. I am going cross-eyed. This has been very briefly proofed, so if there are any errors, I’ll fix them in the morning! (or really afternoon cuz my ass ain’t waking up till about 2 pm)

Anyways, here is part 2. I hadn’t planned on this part being so long, but it just came out of me as I was writing. This part is gonna be kind of boring because it the readers point of view of part 1 and it also has a lot of back story. so please hang in there.

As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. If you like this story let me know! I plan on this being a multi-part fic, but if no one likes it then I won’t continue it.

Songs mentioned in the story are

Havana by Camila Cabello

Desperado by Rihanna

Finesse Remix by Bruno Mars

Someone mentioned that the pictures were distracting last time so i left them out this time round. Except the one ben barnes gif. I mean who doesn’t want at least one of those? Especially when its one of him being so sexually aggressive. :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Length: Almost 7,000 (hot damn)

Warnings: Cussing, sexual situations, innuendos, bad writing and grammar? fucking sue me

Your eyes scan the vivacious dance floor. There was always something you felt that was extremely freeing being a nameless face in the crowd. You could be anyone and no one, but tonight you were someone. Tonight you had a name, Rachel Manafor. Rachel was a young entrepreneur who came out to simply enjoy a night at one of the most popular clubs in New York. Gotta hand it to the case worker who constructed this identity. They had made the cover air tight. If anyone wanted to check up on you, you were covered.

You sighed as you resisted the urge to scratch your scalp. You never were one for wearing wigs. Honestly, I don’t know how Nat handles this. The woman has more missions that she goes undercover for than Kellogg’s has cornflakes. I’ve only had this wig on for three hours and I am ready to strangle something. Your eyes continue scanning the crowd. You clock all the visible exits making sure there aren’t any unforeseen obstacles that could have popped up in the last 10 minutes.

You take note of the Anvil security stationed at the visible exits. Ah, your target must have finally arrived. You look for him on the dance floor and at the bar, but you don’t see him. Since the babysitters are here, he must be close by or on his way. They are probably here to secure the building first. Alright, time for momma to go to work. Get ready boys.

You start making your rounds of the club, checking out the formation of the security and their station points. Dancing your way across the dance floor isn’t easy. The crowd is packed in so tightly that it’s hard to even breathe. You wonder how anyone is able to move in this, but soon realize that the crowd’s dancing is more of a going-with-the-flow-of-shoving-and-pushing-lest-you-get-elbowed-in-the-face rather than actual dancing. However, you are finally able to complete three circuits of the club and feel that you have successfully mapped out the room and the security detail. Only one guard posted at each exit? Whoever’s in charge really underestimates who all is coming for this guy and the power and resources they possess. Well, I’m not gonna complain. Makes my job a helluva lot easier.

With the first step of your mission complete, it was time to start the second step, locate the target.

Speak of the Devil… Aldrich had finally entered the club. It had taken a lot of cashing in IOUs to find where your target would be and when he would be there. You had been saving a lot of those favors for a rainy day, but when SHIELD said jump…

As you watch Aldrich immediately head towards the bar, you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated grumble. The little shit was over two hours later than planned, but you know, spilled milk and all that. Your mission was still on track, and that was all that really mattered. You’ll live. Even with that mentality, you lamented over the date night you had made with your bathtub. So much for me time, and I was so excited about that new bathbomb, too. Mr. Darcy, I hope you’ll wait for me. Box of wine, I’ll miss… who am I kidding? I’ll still smash you when I get home. Dear Lord, I am having full conversations in my head now. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe I do need to see a shrink. With your internal monologue mostly over, you start to plan your next move.

You notice that Aldrich brought an additional entourage of bodyguards, not just the ones stationed at the exits. Well at least the guy in charge wasn’t a total imbecile. You watch the group of men disperse amongst the crowd. However, one man sticks close to the target. Must be close guard tonight. You check the man out. Your eyes appreciating the masterpiece in front of you. No doubt this was the infamous William Russo. So, the gossip was right for once, man he is fucking beautiful. Nat, I’ll never doubt you again.

Russo had been on SHIELD’s radar for a few months now. How could he not be? Some Jarhead fresh out of the military, without a penny to his name, suddenly becomes a multi-millionaire in a few short years? That’s definitely some shady shit right there. Hell, the guy drives a fuckin’ Wraith… in New York…. Like what the actual fuck? You watch Billy remove his leather jacket, revealing the form fitting sweater he wore underneath and you bite your lip. Have mercy.

You shake your head back and forth trying to refocus. Okay enough about tall, dark and handsome. Time to find out where the other Anvil dicks got off too. You look at the beer that some random dude had bought you on your last circuit of the club. He was no doubt hoping to make you feel like you owed him in some sort of sexual favor. Fucking cunt. With that thought, you chug the remaining liquid and slam it on the nearest table, making your way back onto the dance floor.

While maneuvering your way through the crowd, you spot three additional guards amongst the partiers. Their just-a-little-too-stiff dance moves and their constant glancing over their shoulders singled them out as Billy’s men. Oh, and also because they kept talking into their sleeves every two fucking minutes. Real inconspicuous. You shake your head. “Idiots,” you mumble under your breath. This is almost too easy.

With the all the guards accounted for, you make your way to the exit you planned on using to make a quick escape. As you work your way across the floor, you make it seem as if you are looking for a friend. “Samantha?” You cry out with a slight whine and slur to your voice. You’re sure to put on a little show, stumbling and slightly putting your weight on everyone you pass. They started making a narrow path, wanting to avoid a potential collision or the possibility of puke. “Samantha! Where are you?”

You keep moving along until you finally make it to the far side of the dance floor. In your earlier assessment, you took note that the side exit is right by the bathrooms. You thank the gods for your luck. You knew with the packed dance floor and the number of utter buffoons posing as bodyguards, you would have to get Aldrich somewhere private and secluded.

You finally reach the hallway that leads to your preferred exit. You see the guard standing stiffly to the right of the door, arms crossed and a stern scowl on his face. He looked to be in his mid-forties with a bit of gray hair at his temples. He was doing an excellent job of exuding the Don’t Fuck Me Me vibe. You keep up your show of being a drunk girl looking for her friend. You stumble and giggle your way towards him.

“’Scuse me, have you seen S’mantha? Can’t find her anywhere.”

Knock off Jason Statham doesn’t respond just gives you a stern look. You stumble closer to him, hugging the wall for balance.

“D’you hear me? I SAID ‘M LOOKIN’ FOR MY FRIEND S’MANTHAAAA.” You say a little too loudly and with an annoying whine for added effect.

“Look Ma’am, I don’t know who Samantha is, but you’re not supposed to be back here.” He uncrossed his arms as he answered your question, holding them out slightly as if he was about to stop you from coming any closer.

You’re almost close enough to him now that if you were to stumble you would fall right in to his chest, and that is exactly what you do. You let out a surprised gasp as he steadies you. You look up at him and smile.

“Aw thank you! You’re my hero.” You say a little breathlessly as you grasp his biceps. “Oh WOW you’re so strong!” You say with a little awe in your voice.

Your charms don’t seem to be working on the man though. He just looks down at you unfazed.

“Ma’am you can’t be back here.” He repeats.

“Oh, alright you fuddy duddy!” You say as you smack his chest. “I’ll leave, jeez! But if you see S’mantha, tell her that Ray-shul‘s lookin’ for ‘er!” You turn around to leave and take a step forward to leave but stop suddenly.

“Hey sir?”

You hear him sigh and you can tell whatever he says next will have an exasperated tone to it. “Wha-“

You turn around swiftly, delivering a round house kick to his temple, immediately knocking the him out.

“You need to learn to loosen up a little.” You say flatly to his unconscious body.

The next few minutes pass quickly as you secure his hands and feet with some zip ties you hid in your bra. Not much room for a utility bely in this get-up. You drag his body in to some random supply closet and kick off the door knob, effectively locking him in. When you’re done, you straighten your pink form fitting skirt and readjust your bralette making sure none of the goodies were showing. Sometimes it sucks being a woman.

Alright. Phase one complete. Phase two here I come. You make your way back into the mass of bodies. If I never see another club after this mission, it will be too soon. I have had enough of this hot, sweaty mob. You see Aldrich and Russo are at the bar still, so ou make your way to the bar area and hover at the edge dance floor. You take position to make sure you’re seen by the men. Camila Cabello’s Havana starts playing and you start moving to the beat. This next part wouldn’t be hard. Dancing was something you loved, despite your bad memories that were often tied to dancing.

Flashback

You breathe heavily as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. All you can hear are the raps of the cane against the floor as your ballet instructor calls out moves.

“Pirouette!”

“Arabesque penchée!”

“Grand Jeté!”

America would never admit to being envious of their long-term rivals, but they couldn’t deny that Russia produced two of the best things the world has ever seen: ballets and spies. You were currently practicing for Swan Lake as the Black Swan. Something you never would had thought you would ever do in your life. Being an orphan that had bounced from Foster Home to Foster home since you were 4, your future never seemed too bright. But all of that changed when you were taken in by the White Rose Initiative.

When the SSR caught wind of the Red Room back in the 40s, they were appalled, and rightly so. The fought for years to put an end to the program and rescue those little girls. And for the most part, they succeeded. However, all it took was for one person to have one awful idea under the pretenses that although it may be awful, if it was for the right cause, the ends could justify the means. So, with that thought process, the CIA formed an American equivalent of the Red Room and it was called the White Rose Initiative.

The WRI took in orphaned girls and trained them torturously in the ways of espionage. While they didn’t chain the girls to the bed, they used other means of imprisonment. A decade of mental and emotional abuse did quite a number on someone.

You had been taken in at the ripe, young age of 8. Your body was trained in multiple martial arts and became specialized in dozens of weapons. Your mind was expanded by professors of the highest caliber, mastering all subjects as well as conquering no less than 12 different languages. You were cultured by learning multiple different musical instruments and training your vocal cords to perform even the most difficult operatic arrangements. You built endurance and strength through ballet and dance classes from the highest trained professionals. Needless to say, your body and mind were finely honed weapons, forged to serve the U.S. Government in any way possible.

During your time with WRI, you endured many different forms of torture. Their goal was to desensitize you so that if you were ever captured, you would not break. Electrocution, waterboarding, extended isolation periods, all seemed like nothing compared to the mental and emotional abuse you suffered under their tutelage. Growing up without love is one thing, but learning to love only one thing in the entire world, and watching it be ripped away from you, knowing there was nothing you could do about it, was too much to bear.

Being inducted to the WRI, doesn’t entail much. You pledge yourself to the United States in a formal deceleration and are you assigned a partner. This partner is with you every moment of every day. Your sparring partner, your roommate, but most importantly, your best friend. Being able to spend your free time with only one person for years on end can only lead to you becoming close. You and Y/BF/N hit it off right off the bat. You were both around the same age with Y/BF/N only being a few months older than you.

Y/BF/N was all you had. The only person who knew you better than you knew yourself, and you knew her too. This is exactly what the WRI wanted. How else were they supposed to keep their weapons in line? They invested all this time and money making you into a shell of a person who couldn’t break under the most gruesome of tortures even if you wanted to. That is why they gave you only one weakness, and one that they could control and exploit. If you ever misbehaved even in the slightest, failed in training or in education, the person they punished wasn’t you. It was your person that they tortured.

You were always stronger than Y/BF/N. Always just a little faster, a little smarter, a little more determined. You were determined that you would never be the cause of her pain. Y/BF/N, try as she might, was never good at controlling her outburst of rebellion. You both hated the WRI, but you knew that there was no escape from your fate. Y/BF/N however, always held out hope that you all would be rescued from the cruelty. This caused you to “punished” almost daily.

Y/BF/N would always be devastated when you returned to your dormitory with electrical burns or with your finger nails removed, or some other marks that were left from gruesome torturing techniques. You would always console her and tell her you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Y/BF/N, I don’t know what I would do if you ever changed who you were or your beliefs just to spare me pain. You wouldn’t be you and that would hurt worse than any torture they could put me through.”

You both would spend hours at night, after lights out, dreaming of the day when you both would be free and able to live your own lives. You both had made pacts that you would never do any missions for your torturers. As soon as you two graduated you would run, never to be seen again. It was something that you planned together, mapping out every single detail until every possible outcome had been predicted and appropriately planned for.

However, what they didn’t tell you was that to “graduate”, you would be put in a fight to the death with the person you had come to know as a sister. It made sense. Why would they spend all this time making you unbreakable only to send you out into the world and have one thing that would make you break in a millisecond? It was smart. You have to give them that. Living it though, was a completely different story.

That fated day was fast approaching, and when it came, you and Y/BF/N were called into the training arena. You could see various weapons littered across the room. You also saw a team of people in the middle of the floor cleaning a large amount of blood off the mats. You and Y/BF/N shared a brief look, both reading each other minds. What the hell is going on? You were the first to see your martial arts instructor emerge from the shadows. When he told you what was to come next, you couldn’t believe what you heard. I have to fight Y/BF/N to the death? You couldn’t get the thought to process. Y/BF/N didn’t seem to phased, which threw you for a loop. She almost looked resigned.

You had always had been opinionated, but you always had a tight reign over your tongue. You feared it would fall back on Y/BF/N. You didn’t even really speak much other than when you were with Y/BF/N in private. So when you aggressively responded to your instructor that you wouldn’t be going along with this sick game. Your instructor was taken aback.

“You can’t seriously believe that I would fucking fight Y/BF/N, My. Best. Friend. to the death.” You say in a low and deadly tone.

Your instructor looked at you in disbelief. He couldn’t believe you, his prized pupil, would speak to him like this. He went to open his mouth, no doubt to reprimand you, but before he could say anything, you feel a punch to the gut. You look up to see who would have the audacity to hit you, and you couldn’t believe what you saw.

Y/BF/N had fucking sucker punched you in the gut. You wheeze as you try to get some air back into your lungs.

“Y/BF/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“You fucking idiot. I am trying to kill you. Are you that much of a dumb bitch?”

With those harshly spoken words, she moved to send an upper cut to your jaw. You duck easily, but your brain felt like it was short circuiting. All you could process is that Y/BF/N is not pulling any punches. She was going full out. She’s really trying to kill me.

Looking back on it, you can only remember bits and pieces, but your body must have gone into fight or flight mode because the next thing you know you have a Kukri, your preferred blade, in your hand. You’re not sure how or when it got there, but the only thing you can think about is how deeply it is embedded in Y/BF/N’s gut. You let out a heartbreaking wail as your brain fully registers what you have done.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Y/BF/N’s body is leaning heavily against yours. It’s as if she doesn’t have the energy to stand on her own anymore. She looks at you and smiles, blood staining her teeth Your heart shattered into a million pieces in that moment. A moment that dragged on for what felt like a life time, and all you can think is, Oh God, what have I done.

“No.” You whisper. A faint, broken echo of your wail earlier. Y/BF/N coughed but the cough didn’t seem to alleviate any of her pain as lets out a sickly gurgle. That’s not good. Logically in your brain, you could see the signs that her life was nearing its end, but your heart couldn’t accept it. Her body went slack and started to slip down your body. You kneel down with her and prop her head in your lap.

“Y/BF/N, please stay with me. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. Not you. Not now. We’re so close. What about that island, huh? We were going to go and flirt with all of the local guys, drink mojitos and do absolutely nothing all day, every day. You can’t leave me. You can’t…” Your voice breaks. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.” You repeat the mantra barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” Y/BF/N draws your attention away from your grief. “You’re free. Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing. Resist. You may have to work for them until you can get out, but… you have to… you have t-” You can see that talking is draining what little energy she had left. Every world is a battle to get out. Every breath more labored than the last.

“Shhhh. Save your energy please. I can’t lose you.”

“No, you… have to… remember… they don’t…. they don’t own you Y/N. Remember. Remember… who… you… ar..” Her last word left her mouth like a sigh as her breathing stopped. Despite what your heart was telling you to do, you didn’t rage and scream. You sat there with her until your instructor came over and put a hand on your shoulder. Numb, you just looked up at him and he offered you a pained smile.

“Congratulations, you’ve officially graduated. Go back to your dormitory and pack up. You ship out at 0800.”

It’s like you were a zombie, you nodded and stood. You neatly folded Y/BF/N’s hands on her chest. She looked so peaceful. With one last look at her face, trying to memorize every feature, you turned and walked away and didn’t look back. It was torture being back in your room, seeing little signs of her everywhere. You could see where she had left her brush on the night stand and her bed unmade, a small defiance to the Initiative. You moved towards bathroom to wash her blood off of your body.

After you had dried off, changed and packed, you looked around your room. It never had been so quiet before. Even when you both were asleep, the quiet was broken with Y/BF/N’s soft snores, something she would deny she did until she was blue in the face. You eye her bed and lay down on it. As you stretch yourself out, you run your hand under the pillow only to come into contact with a hardback book. You pull it out and read the cover. “Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” It was her favorite book. She read a little bit of it every night before she went to sleep.

You opened to the bookmarked page. Your eyes scanning the page’s contents only coming to land on the section she had underlined. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” You smirked as you read the passage. Then you noticed the little note she had written in the margins. “If this ain’t us, I don’t know what is…” And like that, the dam burst. You let out a sob before you could contain it. You rolled over and shoved your face into the pillow. You let out a blood curdling scream. You could feel tears and snot soaking the pillow. While it felt good to express some emotion finally, when you had cried the last tear, you just felt empty. You got up and put the book in your pack. At least I’ll something of hers.

And thus began your time as the empty shell that you swore to Y/BF/N that they would never make you. For years, you didn’t care if the world lived or died. You didn’t speak to anyone other than reporting to your superiors. You had soon made a name for yourself, and not in a good way. You were good at what you did. You were stealthy and deadly and you never failed a mission. People started calling you Echo after the nymph in Greek Mythology. Hera deprived her of speech, except for the ability to repeat the last words of another.

End Flashback

You come out of your reverie when a new song started playing. The deep thumps of the bass reverberating in your chest. You really shouldn’t be getting this fucking distracted on a mission. However, Your traitorous brain turns back to the past.

It’s hard for you to think back on your time after WRI. Especially since it was against the dying wish of your best friend. You aren’t proud to say that you lived that way for a long time. You only came out of your zombie like state when the aliens attacked New York.

Flashback

You were walking along the sidewalk with your head down and earphones in listening to some rap music as you made your way to HQ to get your new mission debriefing. Through the loud music in your ears you start to hear screaming. You look up to see a horde of aliens flying about wreaking havoc on the city. You see the innocent people fleeing and fearing for their lives.

As your eyes scan your surroundings to plan your first mode of attack, your eyes land on a mother clutching her son to her chest, who was obviously dead. He had been impaled with a Chitauri staff. The kid couldn’t have been older than 10. Watching her grieve reminded you of yourself with Y/BF/N. And in that moment, you decided that as long as there were evil dickwads out there preying on the innocent, you were going to do anything you could to protect them. You couldn’t help but think that Y/BF/N would be proud of you. No doubt giving you an ear full about it taking so long first though. And with that thought in mind, you began killing as many of those sons of bitches as you could. There was a never-ending stream of them flying around on those damn hover crafts though and you soon became exhausted. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out.

You pause after decapitating a Chitauri with a loose piece of metal paneling when you hear loud bellows off in the distance. What the hell is that? Next thing you know, you see the Hulk leaping from building to building. You follow his path with your eyes. And as he gets closer, you can hear his roars louder than ever and you fight the instinct to cover your ears to protect them from the sear volume of the noise. You realize he is headed directly towards you. Why is he coming at me, man? What did I do? You see that he passes right over your head though and you turn your head to see where he is heading and you see that you are a few yards from Stark Tower. Oh.

You watch as he swings his body on to the roof and you wonder what’s going on up there, but your thought process is rudely interrupted when a particularly large Chitauri knocks you on your ass. You get up and quickly dispose of him and four others. You then hear what sounds like a jet engine coming right at you. You look up to see Iron Man carrying a nuke on his back.

“What the actual fuck is going on? Did I take LSD without knowing and this is just a bad trip?”

You see him fly into the portal you noticed the Chitauri coming out of earlier and deliver the pay load. You let out a thunderous whoop as did many of the people around you. You hear the nuke exploding in the portal and all of the remaining Chitauri collapse at once. They don’t get back up.

You look back up into the sky to see the portal beginning to close. You can’t explain it, but when that portal closed, some unknown force knocked you back… like about 30 feet… and slammed you into a brick wall with what felt like the force of a semi-truck going 80 mph. It was a hit that should of killed you. Or at least hospitalized you for months, but before you passed out, you felt a warmth take you’re your body and somehow, you knew you would be alright. The next thing you remember was coming to in a pile of debris.

You look up to the sky again to see if there is still any more action going on, only to see Ironman free falling at an alarming rate. As he draws to close to the ground for comfort, the Hulk swoops in and catches him. They land on the ground not far from you, and you see that Tony isn’t moving. All of the Avengers have gathered around now, and it looks like they have lost hope of him being alive. All of a sudden, the Hulk lets out an ear-splitting roar and Tony jerks awake.

After a heartwarming reunion, the team collects themselves and take in the wreckage that is New York. You are looking at them when Steve makes eye contact with you. He gives you a curious look. You just smirk at him and give him a little wave. He directs the team’s attention towards you and they all start making their way over to you. You hear Hawkeye say, “She take all them aliens out by herself?” And you can’t help but to respond.

“No. Not all of them, about 80% though. The rest are courtesy of the big guy.” You nod towards Hulk and he gives everyone a self-satisfied smirk with a grunt of acknowledgement. “Hulk smash.” He said under his breath in a proud tone.

Tony, who looks worse for wear, looks at the number of dead aliens around you. “Yeaaaah, you got spunk kid. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Y/N, but everyone calls me Echo.”

Nat perks up at this. “Wait. THE Echo? 147 confirmed kills? The silent death dealer of the White Rose Initiative?”

Steve speaks up. “Nat, you know this woman?”

“Know her? I’ve been trying to track her for years. SHIELD has her listed as a potential threat and a potential asset.”

“Hah! Well what do you know! Y/N, why don’t you join the Avengers? I’m sure I can get ole Cyclops to agree. Don’t you think Nat? You know I’m his favorite anyways. He can’t say no to me.”

“Tony, shut up for a second, will you? Y/N, what do you say? I know that Fury would jump at the opportunity to have you be a part of the team, especially after this fiasco. We’re gonna need all the helo we can get.”

“Oh, I dunno man, I mean do I have to wear dumb ass costumes?” You say as you eye up Thor. “I mean a cape, dude? Really?”

You can hear Tony mumble “I like her already,” to Nat and you can hear her chuckle.

Thor, looking offended, responds with, “I’ll have you know that capes are essential for… flying and aerodynamics and… things.”

“Mmm-hmm… Look guys I don’t know. Being an Avenger is this whole thing and I dunno… I’m not into being in the spotlight. I am looking to be on the right side of things though. Got a whole lot of shit to make up for.” Nat nods in understanding. “Widow, think Director Grumpy Mother Fucker will let me join SHIELD?”

The group let out a small laugh at that. Except Cap. He looks a little uncomfortable. Guess his delicate sensitivities doesn’t like cursing. Pussy. “I’ll be sure and let him know! Look we got to get going and report in or said director will have our heads on a platter. We will keep in touch though. You know where to find us.” She says as she gestures towards Stark Tower. You nod in acknowledgement. Well, Y/BF/N, I don’t really remember who you knew me as, but I know who I am going to try to be. I hope it’s someone you would be proud of.

End Flashback

And that’s how you came to be here, in this bar, on this mission. You listen to the song again. The lyrics flowing through you to move your body in a sensual manner.

Desperado Sittin’ in an old Monte Carlo A man whose heart is hollow Mhm, take it easy I’m not tryna go against yuh Actually, I’m goin’ witcha

You close your eyes and feel the music move your soul. Getting lost in music and dance was always an escape for you at your time in the WRI.

Gotta get up out of here And yuh ain’t leavin’ me behind I know you won’t cause we share common interests You need me, there ain’t no leaving me behind Never, no, no, I just want outta here, yeah Once I’m gone, ain’t no going back

You open your eyes and look over to where Russo and Aldrich were stationed. It looks like Aldrich got another round of drinks. Good. The drunker the better. You’re mid-turn in a dance move when you see from the corner of your eyes Aldrich looking in your direction. You smirk to yourself. Off to a good start. You close your eyes again and bite your lip as you let the music take you over again.

If you want, we can be runaways Running from any sight of love Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin’ There ain’t nothin’ here for me There ain’t nothin’ here for me anymore But I don’t wanna be alone

You open your eyes and look directly at your target. He seems to be admiring the view. Got ‘em hook, line and sinker. You crook your finger at him with a sultry smirk. He looks over to Russo and says something. They share a short conversation before Aldrich looks back over to you. You make the same motion and let out a small laugh, hoping it would encourage him to come over. He gestures as if to say, “Who me?” You nod and laugh again.

He eagerly makes his way to you.

“Well, hello there beautiful.”

“Hi Handsome. I saw you watching me and wanted to know if you wanted to dance.”

He doesn’t respond. Bruno Mars’ Finesse remix comes on. It’s a little more upbeat, but Aldrich moves to closer to you so that his right leg is in-between yours. If you move, you will be basically dry humping his leg. As you both begin to move to the beat, you hear him ask for your name.

“Rachel.”

“That’s a pretty name. Name’s Chad. Chad Aldrich.” He says very matter of fact tone. He was clearly expecting you to know who he was from his last name alone.

You give him a blank stare.

“You know the Aldrich’s? They are a branch of the Rockefeller family tree. I’m a very important person.”

Man, this guy is a dick and I’ve only been talking to him for two seconds. You lean up to whisper in his ear. “Oh, I am sure you are. Very. Important.” You lick into his hear on the last word and Chad is speechless. Thank God for that.

You two dance to the upbeat song for a bit more before it bleeds into the next. This new one slow and sensual. Definitely a bump and grind song. You move to turn around and press your back to his front. You start to move to the beat and Chad wraps his arms around you, putting his head next to yours.

You dance like this for a couple more songs and you can feel that Chad is getting a little excited. You lean your head back on his shoulder and press your rear more firmly to his groin. He lets out a groan, that is impossible to hear in the loudness of the music, but you can feel it coming from his chest. You turn your head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me hard in the bathroom.”

“Oh, someone’s kinky.”

“Tell me about it daddy.”

With those last words he looks at you excitedly and nods an okay. You turn to pull him away. You can feel him signaling to Russo and making some gestures behind you, but you choose to ignore them. As you make your way to the bathroom, you can feel Chad getting more and more handsy. He impatiently grips your hips and pulls himself close to you. He runs his hands across your stomach and squeezes one of your breasts.

You finally make it to the bathroom, but before you can enter the door, Chad turns you around and forcefully molds his mouth to yours. He seriously lacks finesse. You chuckle internally at your pun from thinking back to the earlier song. God I am corny. You tolerate the kiss for a few moments before you break it off and pull him into the bathroom. You quickly shoo out any other guys. Man, the bro code must be strong if the guys just willingly leave in the face of a possible quickie for their fellow dude.

Chad grips your shoulders and roughly pushes you against the wall. You two make out for a minute before a guy in a plaid shirt enters the bathroom. He doesn’t seem as accommodating as the other guys. He grumbles, “Get a room, fucking horn dogs.”

You start to shove Chad into a stall. Alright here comes the fun part. You forcefully push him down on to the toilet and straddle his lap. He makes a satisfied sound and that’s the last thing you hear from him as you pinch the pressure point in his trapezoid and he quickly passes out.

You move quickly to remove your skirt and pull out your finger printing kit that had been disassembled and strapped to your inner thigh. You deactivate the photostatic leggings you had on and they turn back to their original black color. You would have to thank Nat for getting them for you. You checked the photostatic veil you had on too. It was still intact and fully functional. Perfect. Everything is going smoothly.

You make quick work of getting his prints and a strand of hair for DNA. With that done, you whip out your phone and open the app that Peter had developed for Tony that allows you to basically have a portable eye mapper. This is ingenious when you need to get retinal scans. Good job Spiderling. You quickly level the camera lens at his eye that you prop open. You watch the load bar as it slowly progresses. I have about 10 minutes before I have to get the heck out of dodge. You think over your checklist.

You hit a stroke of luck when the guy came into the bathroom. He was wearing a perfect change of clothes. It would definitely be beneficial to your mission if you could quickly change your appearance.

You see that the app has completed its mapping and you make your way out of the stall. You see the guy that came in has finished his business and is currently washing his hands. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile ruefully at him.

“Can you believe he passed out? What a fuckin’ light weight am I right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

He turns to get a paper towel to dry his hands. Using his distraction, you pinch the same nerve in his traps as you did to Chad. The guy collapses on the floor. You turn to throw away the skirt you had on and you remove the sheer shirt and toss it in the trash too. You make your way back to the guy and you strip him of his flannel shirt and white t-shirt underneath. You rip the bottom half of the t-shirt and part of the sleeves. You slip the shirt over your bralette and tie it to where it fits firmly across your chest. Next you roll up what was left of the sleeves to make them a bit more feminine looking. Then you take his flannel shirt and tie it around your waist.

You look over to the guy on the ground and decide to put him in the stall with Chad so that he doesn’t cause problems for you. You grunt as you drag him to lie face down on Chad’s lap. You laugh out loud. When they both come to, they will be very surprised at the situation they find themselves in. You take the bits of t-shirt you ripped off and tie their hand to the back of the commode.

With the majority of the job done, you exit the stall and go to remove your wig. Fucking finally. When all of a sudden you see the door to the bathroom slowly creek open and you see a gun stick through the crack. You watch as the person holding the gun finally enters the room fully and the door swings shut behind him.

He looks at you as you look at him. Fucking Russo with his fucking perfect face and hair has to ruin fucking everything. Fuck. You can see him trying to piece together what he is seeing. You fully remove the wig and your Y/H/C falls down and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

You see him taking in your appearance and you can see it in his eyes when all of the pieces come together. You almost sarcastically congratulate him on how fucking slow he was. You don’t though. You just look at him for a second more before you narrow your eyes and take up a fighting stance. You throw a smirk at him. You needed to get that gun away from him ASAP. Lucky for you, it seems he forgot he was even holding one.

Before he can think of what to do next, you charge at him. Bring it on pretty boy. Let’s see who has more balls the ballerina or the marine.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #netflix #fanfic #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #jigsaw

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aroroswritingblog · 7 years

Text

Night Meeting

Hellooooo!!! This is my gift to @my-lazy-genius for the @aphgenficexchange! Sorry I’m so late, I couldn’t access my computer and then my Political Anthropology teacher fucked up my schedule by making me do a surprise essay :( Anyway, I chose to write about France and Japan meeting while playing Pokemon GO. Tbh while thinking about what to write I remembered that trivia in France’s Kitawiki page about him possibly being a sleepwalker. I hope you enjoy it and have a great day!!!!

Tbh I’m publishing this reeeeally late, so I’ll probably reread it in the morning to check if there are any grammar mistakes or anything like that.

Read on AO3

The soft light coming from the streetlights illuminated the park in front of him. It was completely open, it had never had a fence or anything like that, and as he entered the park Kiku only hoped he wouldn’t encounter anyone there. After all, explaining he was in a park at three in the morning because he was trying to catch a Dragonite would be kind of awkward, and just the type of conversation he didn’t want to have.

He kept walking towards the centre of the park. The silence was unsettling, but he kept going, resolved to find what he was looking for. When the Dragonite finally appeared in his radar, he immediately tried to capture it, but just when he threw the first Super Ball an unexpected sound made him turn around.

Another person stood in front of him, half hidden against a tree. A taller man wearing a flower-patterned hoodie (over what Kiku thought were pajamas) was looking at him like a deer in the headlights, and for a moment Kiku thought that he probably looked the same way.

Calculations ran through Kiku’s brain: whether he’d be able to outrun the other man, if he could win in a physical fight, how many people would be able to hear him if he screamed… But they all stopped when the man pointed at his phone.

“Uuuhh, Pokemon GO?”

The phone in the man’s other hand shone bright, showing a familiar map. Oh. So that was what he was doing. Okay, Kiku didn’t have any right to judge then, even if the man in front of him looked like a hobo who had just woken up. The hoodie didn’t hide his face completely, and it was easy to see some stubble and some strands of disheveled hair, even if he couldn’t see the color or anything else.

Kiku nodded, and then they stared at each other. In moments like this it was expected to make some sort of small talk, he was aware of that, but the night or the surprise had left his already awkward social skills frozen. And just like that, they were both completely silent, unable to look each other in the eye.

“Sorry if I scared you,” the man said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He talked with some sort of accent that Kiku couldn’t identify. “I was playing. Pokemon GO, I mean.”

“It’s okay,” he answered, keeping his face neutral.

A gust of wind reminded him that he was in a park at three in the morning for a reason, so he captured the Dragonite as fast as possible, not being able to ignore the other man’s stare. Once he had it, he put his phone on his jacket’s pocket.

“You got what you were looking for?” The other asked, resting against a tree and looking like he was going to fall asleep right there.

“Yes. Now that I captured it, I’m going to leave,” he answered, wanting to get out of the uncomfortable situation as soon as possible.

“Oh, of course, I’ll go soon too.” The blond said, leaving the tree. Looking directly at Kiku, he waved goodbye with his hand and smiled. It was obvious it was meant to look friendly, but the man’s obvious tiredness made it look stiff and awkward.

Without looking back, Kiku left the park and went home.

The next morning the memory looked more like a dream than something that had actually happened. The Dragonite in his app was the only proof that the night before had happened, and as much as he tried he couldn’t even remember the other man’s face.

It was Sunday. Free day. He could do whatever he wanted. He could stay at home catching up on all the anime he had missed, or finish reading the manga Feliciano and Ludwig had bought for him for his birthday. Or he could go back to the park to keep playing, which was what he actually wanted to do, even if the night before had been one of the most awkward moments of his life and the idea of repeating it made him want to disappear.

Honestly, the possibility of meeting that weird guy again was really low. And he had been playing Pokemon GO every day for three weeks, he couldn’t just break his streak. Making up his mind, he got dressed and ready to leave, putting on his jacket while he pressed the button for the elevator.

The moment the elevator’s doors opened he took a deep breath, and stepped inside. However, just when he was about to push the button a yell stopped him. He instinctively pushed the button to keep the doors open, and before he even knew what had happened, someone had run and slipped into the elevator with him.

“Thank you for holding the elevator, chéri,” a blond man stood next to him, smiling at him.

“You’re welcome,” Kiku answered, ignoring the “chéri”.

The man got a little closer, looking him up and down.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met, right?” The smile grew, looking interested. “I moved here a couple weeks ago, but I think I haven’t had the joy of meeting you yet.”

“I suppose not. I’m Kiku,” he kept glancing at the doors, waiting for them to open. His new neighbor was getting a bit too close to him, and there was something weird about him. Kiku couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but looking at his face made him feel strange. His clothes were elegant and looked expensive, if he had seen him before he would remember, right?

“My name is Francis, chéri. But now that I think about it, are you sure this is the first time we meet? I feel like I’ve seen you before, and I have a good memory for faces…” Showing no regard for personal space, Francis studied Kiku’s face, obviously concentrated.

The doors opened suddenly, and Kiku got out immediately, but Francis followed him, half-talking to him and half-talking to himself, not even thinking of leaving him alone.

“Do you have a dog? I think I saw you the other day. No, wait, that was another person. You know the bakery next to the library? I go there whenever I can, have you ever been there? Or maybe… Hey, is that Pokemon GO?” He suddenly stopped rambling when he saw the app Kiku had opened in his phone.

The realization of why he had recognized Francis hit him, and it felt like all the air of his lungs had decided to escape.

“You’re the hobo from the park,” he said, not bothering to think of how that sounded.

“What do you mean hobo?!”

“I mean, the man from the park. The one who was playing Pokemon GO at three in the morning.”

Francis stared, opening and closing his mouth, but unable to actually say anything. It wasn’t hard to see a lot of things were going through his head, and when his eyes widened Kiku knew he had been recognized too.

Making sure nobody was around, Francis leaned in to talk, as if sharing a secret.

“Don’t tell anyone! I can’t let anyone know!”

“Know what?” He asked, getting worried. Francis looked genuinely distressed, constantly checking nobody could hear them.

“That I get out at night. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

He seemed conflicted, as if trying to decide whether to say something else or not. But eventually he keep talking.

“I’m a sleepwalker. Sometimes I wake up in other places, like the stairs, or… well, the park.”

“Is that why you looked so sleepy?”

“Yes, it’s a bit disorienting waking up in a completely different place. So sometimes I just… play Pokemon GO for a while before going home. Otherwise I’m too tired to move. Just don’t tell anyone, please.”

Processing everything he had just heard was hard, and he wasn’t even sure how he had gotten in the current situation. But, even if they hardly knew each other, he didn’t want Francis to get more nervous.

“You don’t need to worry, I won’t tell anyone about your sleepwalking.”

“Really?” Francis looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could finally breathe.

“Really.”

“Thank you, mon ami!” Francis slung an arm around Kiku’s shoulders, bringing him closer. “I’m glad to know I can trust you.”

“It’s okay.” This time he didn’t even bother trying to get the other man away from him, apparently he was glued to him now.

“Can I invite you to a coffee or anything to thank you? I know an exquisite coffee shop, and there are a lot of Pokestops in the way.”

The answer was… not clear. Kiku didn’t tend to accept invitations to hang out with people he hardly knew, and if it ended up being half as awkward as the night in the park, he was probably gonna wish the ground would swallow him. But Francis was looking at him with the biggest smile he had ever seen (and not even a flirtatious one, just a genuinely happy one), and he really didn’t want to take that away.

“I guess that could be a good idea,” he answered.

Francis let go of his shoulders, only to grip his arm and drag him towards their destiny, already talking about what type of coffee they should get and whether they’d be close enough to the library’s Gym to battle the Pokemon there.

#APH Gen Fic Exchange #Hetalia #APH France #APH Japan #My fics #god sorry for being late my schedule is fucked up

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oumakokichi · 7 years

Note

If you don't mind me asking, do you have any writing tips or advice on how to write things or sentences naturally?

The best advice I can offer is tojust practice, practice, practice, really. Writing is one of those things wherethe individual style is always going to differ from person to person, so it’simportant to just try and write as much as you can and find which stylepersonally fits you best! Whether youprefer writing in present tense or past tense, using first person, secondperson, third person, etc.—these are all things that you should reallyexperiment with firsthand to decide what you’re most comfortable with.

You don’t have to practice forlong, either! Even just writing a short drabble or using a randomly generated promptwould do. If you can’t write every day to practice, just try writing when youdo have some free time! I would personally recommend trying to get someone tobeta-read for you, like a friend or family member, but if you’re notcomfortable showing your writing to anyone right away it’s okay to just read itover yourself.

The hardest thing to do is toseparate yourself from your own writing. I often run into the problem of findingit really difficult to go back over something I’ve just written, because Ieither skim through it as fast as possible or find myself extra harsh on it, alot harsher than I would be with someone else’s writing. One thing artists andwriters alike have in common is usually this tendency to over-criticizeourselves and to be way too hard on ourselves, so it’s important to first tryand get the hang of rereading your own work without treating it too differentlythan anyone else’s work.

Once you’re able to do that, itshould be a lot easier to go back and double-check your writing. First, you’llwant to check all the basics—see if there are any typos, basic grammarmistakes, inconsistencies, etc. But once you’ve done that, the next step is tosee if it sounds and feels natural. If you’re having trouble reading from oneline or paragraph to the next, it’s possible there might be something wrongwith the way the sentence is worded. A shift in tense, an awkward word choice,or a run-on sentence could all make the writing feel clunky and stiff.

My advice is to just go backover your writing and look for these things after you’ve had some time (be it afew hours or a few days) to distance yourself from just writing it. Read it toyourself carefully and try and really get a grasp of how it sounds. Does itsound like something you’d be able to read out loud to someone else? Or does itstill sound awkward somehow? If the answer is the latter, you may need to goback and revise the sentence again until it really does shine when read aloud.

The flow of the story is alwaysimportant, in anything you write. Whether your story is extremely long or very,very short, it’s going to have a particular rhythm and tempo to it, and it’simportant to maintain that flow. Breaks in tempo can be done intentionally fordramatic effect, to highlight a really important scene or a character not beingable to comprehend something, but they should probably be used sparingly. Ifyou can really nail that tempo and flow, your story will make a much more lastingimpact with the reader. I’d recommend going back over your writing andpolishing it until it really does sound like it flows from one sentence to thenext.

Finally, just try to make sureeveryone’s in character! Always keep in mind who’s talking during dialogue, howthey refer to other characters, what kind of language they use, etc. A superrough, informal character wouldn’t suddenly talk stiffly or politely, andvice-versa. Having characters be presented OOC can really make it hard for areader to get immersed in the story, so it’s important to just make sureeveryone sounds natural.

If you have a hard time writingdialogue in particular, I’d recommend looking back at things characters havealready said in their original source material for examples! Even if you’rewriting original fiction instead of fanfiction, chances are you’re always goingto be able to find a few similarities in common with OCs and preexistingcharacters, so it’s fine to use the way a certain character talks or acts as atemplate for how you’d like to write your own.

All in all, it’s going to be reallyhard. There are still times when I’ll write for three hours straight, go backand look at what I’ve read, and be tempted to delete all of it, because I feellike it’s just not up to par with how I want it to be. If you feel like you’restruggling, try to remind yourself again not to be too critical, and giveyourself some time to go back over the parts you don’t like in the morning orat least a few hours later, to see if you like them any better when going overthem again with a fresh eye.

Even if you feel like “I can’twrite,” or “this sucks,” just keep going! Even 500 words is more progress than0 words, and every writer I’ve ever met has struggled with writer’s block andfeeling self-conscious about their own work. Sometimes even the things youmight feel the most critical about in your own work will be reallywell-received by readers; you’d be surprised! I’ve had people tell me theyreally enjoyed parts of my writing that I couldn’t stand to look at for fivemore seconds, and that encouraged me to try going back and rereading thoseparts myself with a little more leniency.

All in all, the best key tomaking your writing sound more natural is to just write as much as possible. Whetherit’s fanfiction or original fiction, it doesn’t matter! Any time you get aprompt, or have a character you’re really passionate about and want to writeabout, just try writing a little something down. Even if you just save it as arough draft on your computer and forget about it, you might come back a fewmonths later to find you really like what you wrote back then.

I hope I was able to help alittle, anon! I’m really glad if I can give any writing advice, because I knowhow tough it can be!

#ask #opinions #writing advice #okay to reblog #i think writing advice is just going to be my tag for these kinds of questions from now on!#i've been getting a few so this should make it easier to find them in the future #i really hope i could help!#anonymous

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memorizingthedigitsofpi · 7 years

Note

For the fanfic author ask😊 1, 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 50 💖

lol you weren’t kidding about going overboard :) Okay!

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

It was for CSI:NY and it was a disorganized, cracky, smutty mess. I’m much better at this now :P I think I could read parts. But there are other parts I know I’d hate. Best to just leave it as is.

Also, it’s over 100K and it’s unfinished, and every time someone favourites it (it’s on FFN), I feel guilty. Good, but guilty :P

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

Well, there’s the one I never shut up about, but the happiness there comes more from rereading the comments than from the fic itself :)

I also really like Partners in Chem. It was a one-shot that became a two-shot that got a third chapter tacked on and then I wrote 7 more chapters and finished it. Considering the odd way it came about, I just really like it :) Also, it’s just about the fluffiest thing I’ve ever done.

I also reread an old CSI:NY hurt/comfort fic I wrote 12 years ago and still liked it. And I never write hurt/comfort so that’s kind of impressive for me :) (it also also comedy and fluff because lbr)

ask me stuff!

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

I have, actually. If I'm not excited enough about a fandom to write about it, I probably won’t read it. I kind of dive into fandoms keyboard first :)

15. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

Only in terms of updates, I think. Like, if I have more than one idea for a fic, I just write both. Or neither.

That said, my ficathon has proven to me both times I hosted it that I have NO IDEA what fandom will like. Not even a little bit.

20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

Depends what you mean by rewrite. I’ve edited fics before (I took a pretty broad hand to It Sucks to be You just a couple of months ago). But I’ve also written the same story multiple ways before (like every story I have where FS get drunk).

I haven’t gone back to the same plot and characters and tried to redo the same story, though.

25. What constructive criticism, however well-meaning, always makes you feel bad when you see it in a review?

Anything along the lines of “I was hoping you would...” because I don’t want to disappoint people. And also anything pointing out errors (in research or grammar or anything else) where that’s the only comment. Because then a person felt so annoyed by what I did that they had to say something, but they didn’t like anything enough to mention it.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

It has. And I’d say that it balances out as positive.

There was a period of time where I was tying most of my happiness to fic. I’d post before bed because reading comments was how I motivated myself to wake up in the morning. If I didn’t get “enough” comments/kudos (whatever I thought enough was for a particular fic), then I’d plunge into depression and think my writing sucked. And if my writing sucked than everything else did too because that was the only thing in my life that was positive.

That was a pretty bad time in my life, and as unhealthy as that attitude was, fic was a bright spot that helped me get through it. Am I glad I stopped posting until I got my shit together? Hell yeah. But I shudder to think what that period would have been like without it.

The best part of writing fic, though, is the community around it. I’ve made close friendships and fun friendships and acquaintanceships that make me smile. I’ve told stories and touched people’s hearts and had mine touched in return by theirs.

And it’s made me a more empathetic person. I don’t generally have a lot of emotions, at least not ones that I allow myself to feel freely, and fic has sort of chipped away at that armour a bit. I’m still pretty closed off, but maybe if I keep writing I’ll keep improving :)

#whistlingwindtree #thanks for the ask!

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 years

Text

Aubade

Pairing: Fallen! Berkut x Reader x Witch Rinea

Prompt: Write-o-ween; Aubade, noun; a song greeting the dawn; a song about lovers separating at dawn

Description: Your scream was an aubade to the morning you would never get to see; your pain evident to those by you. Still, Berkut and Rinea smiled on. Soon enough, the three of you would be together again. Stronger than any time before. And with the power of the War Father, nothing would ever threaten your happiness again.

Rating: Sfw

Word Count: 2470

Notes: yall remember that one time Berkut sacrificed himself to duma? I do, and I sure do love me an angsty character to work with too. Here’s to write-o-ween day 4…. which, to be fair, I slept like all of the 4th and 5th, I might be sick. Me, halfway through writing this; but what if Rinea too?

I hyped this up to a lot of people, so I hope you all enjoy it!! It was a lot of fun to write and….. I’ll probably end up doing more duma faithful sov characters bc…. wow. This is kinda yan yan so it will be tagged as such!

Edits: Reblogging to celebrate Fallen Berkut in Feh! Also editing for grammar, tone, and stuff but in addation, I also added like some new stuff to it, about +700 words of never before seen content! I highly recommend you reread it!

The nights had never felt so long, not even in the depths of winter. You wanted to the break of dawn to save you, to calm you with its sweet light, but even then, would you be safe? Would you be able to see its guiding light? For now, the darkness was your shroud; here you were protected, hidden safely. But still, his chuckle resonated. It shouldn’t have happened this way. You ran away from fear of him but it was that very same fear that brought you here.

Duma’s power was to be feared; when you left Berkut, he wasn’t yet under its influence. In fact, it was only just after Fernard joined the two of you, you knew you had to leave. As much as you loved Berkut, your morals drove you to fight against your own homeland of Rigel. You loved your homeland, prided yourself on serving it; but how could you fight with it, if the best thing for it was to fight against it?

So you took arms with the Deliverance after Fernand left them; you weren’t much, simply a mage who defied the land and people that brought you up. At first, it was only Rinea that knew of your leaving, but of course, Berkut soon found out; such a thing was impossible to hide for long. You dared not think of the hell that was paid due to your choices but it something you felt had to be done.

It wasn’t long before you had to fight against Berkut himself; certainly not the first time for the Deliverance but your first time fighting the man you loved. Words failed to describe the gut-wrenching feeling you felt on the battlefield that day. You couldn’t look him in the eyes yet you felt you couldn't leave them when his smoldering gaze met yours. It was a battle you didn’t like to think back on but could never seem to forget.

You didn't know how to feel upon reaching Rigel Castle, at fighting the man you called King and thought of as your own uncle. Fighting him was hard enough but knowing Berkut lie ahead, with Rinea there as well filled you with a familiar feeling of dread at this point. You had come this far with your cause in heart though; to give up now would be to have everything be for naught.

Below castle Rigel lie the depths of Duma Tower; during your time there, you never dared to go to the place yourself. Whenever you neared it, it always pulsed with an ancient and fearsome power. It was not something to be taken lightly and you were one to know when to back down. But now the Deliverance was forced to take this path, forced to know Berkut was down there, waiting for the lot of you.

Fernand had appeared first, his words weak but his tone so scared. He warned you what was to come; what Berkut had done, what had before of him and Rinea. You wondered if this was the last time you would see him alive; whether that was because he took your life, or his was taken, you didn't know, but Duma Tower bore down on you with an ominous aura that told of devastation and ruin.

You could have never expected this though; the two people you cherished most, twisted by Duma's horrible power. And just what that power meant; you had fought side by side with these people for months, and knew just how strong there were. Then again, you knew of Berkut's power, even before Duma's curse ran through him. You had to hope beyond hope that the Deliverance could end this; put Berkut and Rinea out of their misery and end the reign of Duma in Rigel once and for all.

But you doubted Berkut's fury, Rinea's new bloodlust. You doubted just how much they would do to get you back. You couldn't watch as your allies were slain around you; Mathilda and Clive, desperate for revenge for their fallen friend, gone too soon. Gray and Tobin, underestimating just what Duma's power meant. Luthier, sacrificing himself so that Delthea might see another day. Slique, Kliff, Forsyth, Clair, Mycen; the burned and battered bodies piled so high that you couldn't bear to be before that infernal flame anymore.

It was you they wanted though. Berkut's cries and Rinea's screams told everyone as much. Every attack, every kill; "This is all for _____", "You took them from us!", even "You've tainted them." It all became too much; they dared not attack you but attacking them was just as hard. It seemed something was preventing you from casting magic, and when you finally could dare to attack, your magic seemed to do nothing to them. Anytime they caught your gaze, you were pushed away as if a child who misbehaved; No, little lamb, they would say, soon we will our time together.

So you ran; it felt cowardly and wrong, but it seemed to be the only thing to do in that situation. You don't know how many of your allies survived then, if any, or how long it took Berkut and Rinea to notice, but it wasn't long enough.

How long could you hide in the endless halls of Duma Tower? If you could make it back to Rigel castle, you had a chance to escape but you knew there was no escape with Berkut and Rinea following you; you were lost, cowering with little more than the flicker of a far away flame as your only hope. You could hear them, calling out to you. Rinea’s dulcet tones, Berkut’s sweet baritone. You could pretend things were as they were before this cursed war. But their words were anything but sweet. They sang of sacrifice, of ruin and of a crazed god’s ancient power. With it, words of love, of longing. How they missed their dear _____, how they only wanted you to be with them forever, all would be forgiven in the eyes of Lord Duma, why not just give into him and be with them forever? It was a tempting offer given the circumstances, and more than once you found yourself asking why you didn’t just give in. But there was a world to save, people other than yourself to consider. You already failed to protect your allies, it would be a shame upon their sacrifices to give in to them now.

“There you are.” You hadn't known when you shut your eyes, but they shot open with a soft gasp as you heard Berkut speak. He kneeled to your level, far too gentle in his movements. “We’ve finally found our lost little lamb Rinea.” Your eyes were wide, barely able to take in her new form now that she stood so close to you. Berkut remained much unchanged, but Rinea was far from what she used to be. Still, she held much the same beauty she did before. If the situation weren’t so dire, your gaze might have followed her in a loving stare like it used to in times past.

“We missed you.” Rinea kneeled before you gently, you could feel she gave off a faint heat. Her hand reached towards you, but you cowered from her touch; still, she wasn’t deterred, and her hand went to cup your cheek. Where you expected her touch would burn the skin from your face, you found instead her touch was a comforting, welcoming warmpth. It was the kind of embrace you wouldn’t mind being wrapped up in. “Do you really think we would ever hurt you, love?” You couldn’t find your words, but you managed to open your eyes again. They both held such loving gazes, in such juxtaposition to who they were, what they had done. Their smiles may have been sweet, but the fire around them couldn't burn the blood they had spilled.

“I missed you too.” Those were not the words you wanted to say, but they tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them or think to say different. “But… this isn’t you, is it?” Your voice was a whisper, tone so soft and sad that perhaps, for a moment when they looked at you, some semblance of their former selves came through. It was only a flash though, a moment far too fleeting for your tastes. You wondered, then, did they even hear you over the crackle of the flame? Did they really see you, or another soul for their War Father to consume?

“Nonsense, of course, it's us.” You could fool yourself at Rinea’s words but reality burnt you every time you looked into her smoldering gaze.

“You’ve grown stronger since we last fought, love.” Berkut’s hand grabbed one of yours; he spoke in a tone that seemed he was almost proud of you. You didn’t pull away from his touch, even if the metal of his armor was far too cold when paired with the warmth of Rinea’s hand. They were a comfort from another time, one you longed for once again; one you would never get to truly relive. “But aren’t you glad our fight is over?” His words were so soft, so unlike the way he spoke to your allies before. A softness reserved for you and Rinea alone; somehow it was more painful to know he still possessed it.

“But it's not.” There was a crack in your voice, in your will with the shake of your head. “Duma has turned you both into husks of your formal selves. You've carelessly slain the innocents who fought to free this world...” You shook your head softly, not daring to utter how much your cherished those men and women. You Rinea’s warm presence leave. Berkut’s hold on your hand only tightened.

“Innocents? They stole you away from me--From Rinea and I! Maybe if I had your strength by me, this could have been avoided _____.” Berkut’s chuckle was low, his grip only growing stronger as his words grew darker. You couldn't shrug his hold on you off, not with Duma’s power coursing through him. Your hand would break in no time if this continued. Despite this, the dark feeling of guilt tore you up more; would Berkut and Rinea still be themselves if you had stayed? Was it really your act of leaving, of allying up with Alm and the Deliverance that pushed him over the edge? You didn’t want to mull on the thought, but it consumed you. Were you really the reason for their descent to madness?

“There’s still time to make this right, lamb.” Rinea’s voice tore you from your thoughts, your wide eyes trying to take in all of her blazing beauty. “There’s still time for you to come back to us.” Horror etched its way on to your features, crawling over you like a chill on your spine. You couldn’t do that, never would you let yourself be a pawn to Duma.

“Rinea was hesitant at first, too.” Berkut’s voice came as he saw your dawning horror, his hand has softened it's hold on yours considerably but your hand now throbbed with the erratic beat of your heart. “But you have the both of us, now. There’s nothing to fear.” His charm and sweet tones were misleading, guiding you to a false sense of security. You quickly rose to your feet, fear guiding your movements.

“No, no I can’t do this. I won’t, and you can’t make me!” You raised your voice, but had already driven yourself into a corner; it was only a matter of time before you fell subject to their will.

“There’s no need to fret dear, we’ll be there with you.” Rinea was too calm as well, only adding to your panic.

“No, please, have mercy.” You didn’t care to wipe tears that fell from your eyes.

“This is Duma’s mercy, ____.” Berkut’s smile felt unnatural, Rinea’s gaze too unnerving. Without much thought, you wormed past the two of them, farther into the infernal depths of Duma’s tower. You weren’t long for wear, though, soon tripping in a room that was far to familar, lit far too bright compared to the rest of the tower. You tried to get to your feet again, but the weight of what tripped you kept you down. Wide, fearful eyes looked back at you. Tobin's vacant eyes stared back at you, Gray's scream caught in his throat as he bled out. Horrified, you backpedaled only to run into Mathilda, gaze fiercely even in death. Strewn all around you where the fallen bodies of comrades you were too weak to protect, too scared to fight with. You couldn’t look, you didn’t want to. You closed your eyes, willing it all away.

“Come now love, dry those tears. You knew it had to be done.” Rinea’s voice was in your ear, calming and sweet as always.

“What did you expect from the wolves that took you from us?” Berkut was on your other side, his voice low; all the time with you lost to these people sickened him.

“Please just end this.” Your own voice was raw, emotion seeping into your words. “This isn’t the world I wanted, this… this should have never happened.” Why couldn’t you just be happy with them?

“You’ll feel better soon, dear. All the pain you feel now will be in the past.” Berkut gently picked you up; you tried to protest, but he had already proved his new power was something you couldn’t fight.

“You’ll be just like us. Stronger. And… we’ll all finally be together again.” You could see the light beyond your closed eyes, the room grew hotter with your quickened breathing.

“No, no I don’t want this!” You thrashed in Berkut’s grasp, anything to free yourself from his hold. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go! You had gotten so close to saving everyone!

“You’ll feel better soon, love.” A tender kiss placed on your forehead by Berkut.

“We’ll await you when you're reborn anew.” A warm touch to your heart by Rinea; bitterly, you wondered, if you would even have a heart in another moment.

You opened your eyes in time to be met with the colors of the fire. Reds, yellows, and oranges danced in your gaze as you were ever so carefully lowered into the scorching flames. It seems Berkut wasn’t affected but the fire, but you could feel its terrible grasp all around you. Your scream was an aubade to the morning you would never get to see; your pain evident to those by you. Still, they smiled on. When they had you once more, you would be better, stronger. And theirs once again; with nothing in this world able to take you away once again.

#write-o-ween #berkut x reader x rinea #berkut x reader #rinea x reader #fe berkut #fe rinea #fe echoes #fe sov #I adore this so much I hope its well revived heheh #yandere

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your-highnessmarvel · 8 years

Text

Burn - Chapter two

link to previous chapters http://i-did-your-mom.tumblr.com/

So obviously this is AU where Bucky never went into Cyro. Post CA:CW and will be AU from then on.

I realized there were some grammar mistakes in chapter one after rereading it. I will make sure to get on that as soon as possible.

Chapter 2: Shrive

About a year ago, coming home from a friend's house, Addie lost her memory. The last memory she had was the long ribbon of dark road glistening ahead of her, stretching on and on and on. She remembered a song, delicate and sweet, playing in the car. A light rain was washing against her windows, yet she was driving with the window half way down because the air smelled like summer.

It was mid-spring. Two weeks before final exams.

There was nothing to fill the gap from that moment, driving peacefully at night, to the moment she awoke in her room. She had no memory of the accident, that her parents said almost took her life. Even her body held no physical reminder of the crash. She was told a drunk driver nipped her car and she had suffered multiple concussions, hence her week spent in an induced coma.

But she knew there was something wrong with herself the moment she woke up to her daisy white room with the heart monitor beeping. She remembered, in those first instances of wakefulness, the feel of something sharp and painful buzzing in her veins. A cold feeling, as if she had spent a decade in ice, overwhelmed her. The heart monitor went crazy, her heart beating so fast it was inhumanely possible.

When the first days passed, the painful sensation and the cold receded, but not the feeling of being out of place. She wasn't the same. Her parents avoided her like she was the plague. Three months was missing from memory. Her mother spent hours talking lowly on the phone to whom Addie assumed must have been the doctor. Her father recoiled from her touch and even installed a lock on his bedroom door.

Once she had dropped completely out of school and had been somewhat encouraged by her parents to move out, she rarely saw them. They moved somewhere up north and bought a house she only saw once in the past year with money she didn't know they had. A bad feeling was coiling in her stomach ever since. Something was terribly wrong.

That's when the electricity came. It came in one white hot shock that blasted through her chest and destroyed the wall in her room, leaving a big hole to gape into the bathroom. It was as if someone reached a burning fist into her chest and ripped open her rib cage. Her limbs went numb and everything slowed, her veins feeling as if they were boiling. Her muscles coiled under her skin, prickling and sizzling under the flesh. Her ears became filled with sounds she never knew she could hear. Her eyes saw things impossible for the human eye. She was sure she was going crazy.

After the first initial shock, her body became used to the sizzling. Her fingers would burn every time her control slipped, and when she'd wake up the next morning, the skin had healed completely.

Her fear became the essence of her life. She was terrorized of her own self; she always kept an emergency sleep pill in case she slipped, or she wore gloves most of the time, and even refused to touch anybody for a long time. Until she decided she would control it, nevertheless use it.

What at first was terrible sessions soon turned regular and harmless. She was scared to look at it at first; she was a freak of nature that could do serious harm. Yet once she came to hold a tiny ball of condensed electrical impulses in her palm, she came to like it. And once she came to understand that what she referred to as the whispers and the sights were actually the electricity talking to her, she came to smile and enjoy it.

However, she needed to hide it. Whatever or whoever created her would come looking for her one day; maybe that was why her parents fled. She always wondered if they knew beforehand of her newfound abilities.

So when Steve and James, Captain America and The Winter Soldier, stepped into her bar, she was trembling in her boots. She thought they would take her away from the only normal life she could have, the only salvation from her horrible transformation. Surely they figured her out like they had with the Maximoff twins. Like they had with every other enhanced being on their Avengers team. Surely SHIELD had found her.

However, they left the bar giving generous tip and offered to drive Conrad back home, and she hadn't heard from them since.

She lived in small, two and a half apartment not even a minute's walk from the bar. In the entrance, there was a clear view of her messy kitchen and her dinner table full of books and papers; her experiments. There was a half wall separating the entrance from the living room, which was mostly a wretched couch, a horribly filled bookshelf, and a t.v set. Her room was down the hall, next to the bathroom, and never forget to mention the horrible hole in the wall that she still had to repair. Her bedroom was filled with her childhood queen bed that she had moved from her parent's house, a nice wooden dresser her recently deceased granny had given to her, and her computer desk, which held her daily diary and all the books she wrote her hypotheses in.

The apartment wasn't much, but it kept her alive. Much more than her parents would now that they were afraid of her.

Addison kept to herself and followed her weekly routine. Usually the bar gave her night shifts, and so she slept in and spent her afternoons researching on her enhancements at the library or her room. She was delved in herself as much as she had delved into the Harry Potter series as a child. She was totally and irrevocably selfish and she didn't care. There was no way in hell she was going to hurt anybody, much less herself.

As for America's golden boy turned bad and his side kick, they never made another appearance at the bar. For the following weeks, she even managed to completely forget about the duo.

Until she ran right into Steve at the library, his feeble attempt to make himself inconspicuous with dark glasses almost making her spit out her coffee. She wasn't scared to bump into him; she knew they would never find out about her. She was sure of it. Never had anyone, but probably her parents, seen what she could do firsthand.

"Captain," she blurted. He was wearing a grey Under Armor sweatshirt and black jeans despite the scorching heat of summer. He wasn't wearing a cap like the last time she'd seen him and his hair was reflecting golden and caramel light. He looked so surprised and innocent that she came to believe he wasn't after her after all.

"Miss Addison," he said gently, the corner of his lips turning slightly upward. "What a-a surprise to see you here."

She rolled her eyes apathetically. "It's not because I don't wear glasses like you that I'm not smart," she replied quite bitterly. He chuckled, raising his eyebrows as he slowly removed the glasses.

"I have to admit these aren't mine," he replied.

"Are they your friend's?" she asked slowly. His eyes found hers quickly and a look of auspiciousness crossed his features but vanished when he smirked slyly.

"No."

"Is he around or is he out terrorizing half the population?" Her sarcasm leaked off her tone like acid and she could tell it hurt Steve.

"Actually." Speaking of the devil, the said winter soldier waltzed in next to Captain, his face torn between anger and sadness and pity as he gracefully saluted Addie. He wore a black long sleeve shirt to hide the metal arm, yet his hands were bare of any gloves. She caught the glimmer of his metal hand. His legs adorned light jeans that hung low on his narrow hips. "I don't do that terrorizing half the population stuff anymore." He gave her a quick, joyless smile.

Something shifted in her and she found herself feeling as if she needed to protect him. Before the feeling could overwhelm her, however, she shook herself from it. "Well," she said with a huge sigh, "what are you fellas still doing in the most french part of the continent?"

"We kind of like it here, actually," Steve answered with a bright smile.

"You guys are crazy," she laughed, tucking a dark lock behind her ear. "And what are you doing in a library?"

Steve and James exchanged a look so quick it was barely anything to someone who didn't teach herself to decipher any and all human emotion. Addie caught the slight change in atmosphere and the the not so subtle gulp of James.

She tried to act as innocent as she could; raising a brow encouragingly. Steve cleared his throat. "We needed to use the computers."

"Well isn't that great," she said. She had to act as if she didn't care and didn't want to dig into their business even though she was dying to. "I'll leave you boys now. Later."

She stepped between them and made for the empty desk. "We'll be seeing you," Steve called out, which made her stop in her tracks before turning and giving him and James the loveliest smile she could conjure up.

Addie was good with computers, so she waited for James and Steve to have completely left the building before she waltzed her way to the computer section. She faced the elderly woman who was in charge for signing in people who needed to use the computers.

She put on her best Betty Cooper face and smiled. "Sorry to disrupt you ma'am," she said in a sugar-coated tone, "but my friends just left and they just texted me saying they left their email account open on a computer here. They can't remember which one though. I mean, they're a crazy bunch. They refuse to buy a laptop and when they come here to use the computer, they always leave their accounts opened and I keep telling them to-"

"What's their names?" the lady interrupted, a look of annoyance on her face.

Surely Steve and James wouldn't have given their real names. She couldn't come up with what they would call themselves, so she played it cool. "They're pretty tall guys, and beefy, very beefy," she tempted. The woman looked at her over her pink glasses as if Addie was a hormone raged teenager even though her licence clearly said twenty. Not a teen anymore. "One had dark glasses...?"

"Oh yes," the woman said in vague arrogance. "They were at computer 4. Hurry up please."

Addie thanked the arrogant old garbage and hurried to the computer. She used the little knowledge from her old school friends in hacking to conjure up a computer history; as in what they had opened on either the web or just the internet. First they had searched the bar at which she worked, which made her cheeks burn. Then they had opened up an inserted USB device to which she was not strong enough in hacking to open the contents since the USB key was not in the computer anymore.

She chewed on her bottom lip savagely. Heat flooded her senses but she tampered down the electricity that was prying to be released.

Before she could stop herself, she was rushing down the library to the door, her backpack swinging on her shoulders. She pushed the heavy wooden doors opened and rushed down the cement steps, onto the busy streets of the downtown area. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was scared it would rip out of her chest. Her body was buzzing so vehemently that she feared she'd lose control. All her senses were raw, as if someone had peeled the first layer of her flesh and she could now feel and hear everything. When she was in a stressed state like that, her abilities rushed to her all of a sudden, knocking her off balance.

Brown eyes searched left and right for any sign of the duo that was hot on her tracks.

Her palms collected sweat as she stood there, turning in circles. She heard the flow of electricity pumping through her ears like a second heartbeat. Buzzing and sizzling screeched at her, her eyes indulging all the impulses coming from wires and phones and everything was so overwhelming.

Until she spotted Steve up ahead the boulevard.

"Steve!" If he was truly enhanced, unlike her, he would hear. She began running, her arms swinging beside her. She had no idea what pushed her to jump into the flames, but the white noise and the impulses screaming at her from everywhere was driving her to the brink. She was right at the edge.

"Steve!"

She ran quicker, trying to catch up. People were staring, but all she saw was the vibes and the pulses of their electronics. She knew she was losing control when she felt them turning off, exploding, or sizzling in people's hands. That was the number one sign that her self control was slipping; electronics turn off, explode, or burn right into a pile of burnt metal.

"Steve, wait!"

He turned slightly and caught sight of her. James stood ever so slightly in front of the Captain, his eyes round and filled with confusion and melancholy. She reached them and leaned over on her knees, breathless.

"You guys aren't here just "passing by" are you?" she asked, her heart racing in her chest. She was a mess of confusion, anger, and desperation, and she knew they noticed.

Steve opened his mouth to say something cleverly evasive, but the atmosphere was filled with so much desperation that he could not overlook the truth anymore. He sighed sadly, turned to James, and dipped his head.

The latter was staring at her as if he was seeing the most gruesome scene in the history of horror movies. His face was contorted in so many ways that she had a hard time pinning his exact emotional state.

"You guys aren't here on leisure either, I suppose?" She straightened and looked at them with a look that said it all. They couldn't lie to her.

"No, we're not." Surprisingly, it was James who answered. "We're here for you." Steve made a move to stop him, but James gave him a stern look.

"I knew this day would come," Addie mumbled to herself. "I just wished I had more time."

"We aren't here to hurt you," Steve said quickly, his brows turned upwards in that sad manner of his. "We need your help. We weren't sure if you were hostile."

Addie laughed sardonically. She barely weighed 120 lbs, how could she be hostile in any way? Besides her electricity. Captain America and the Winter Soldier were invincible individually, imagine as a pair.

"How do I know you're not hostile either?" she threw back, furrowing her brows.

Surprisingly again, it was James who answered. "Because we aren't."

"We'll see about that, James," she snapped.

"It's Bucky."

I just wanted to establish more development before I dive right into the hunky business.

I did say slow burn, so expect a slow burn. But eventual Bucky and Addie scenes are coming.

Wishing you a happy weekend.

Updates should come in once a week, but I will not stick to a schedule. Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #marvel #wanda maximoff #avengers

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