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wordsbymae · 2 years

Text

MINORS DNI

Title: The Viking

Pairing: Male OC x reader

TW: Violence, murder, generally bad things, implied non/con, no explicit smut but heavy Non/con groping!!, discussion of sexual slavery, mention of cannibalism, Christian elements but it is because I am and I am less afraid of stuffing up Christian stuff than other religions. If you are uncomfortable with any of that move on This man is not nice. Pet names: little mutt, little one and little lamb. Let me know if I missed anything let me know

ALPHABET HERE

Also, I tried to do Gn but as I am a woman, I automatically write with a female reader in mind. But!!!!! I have tried my very best to not mention gender. If something doesn't work please tell me. Reader discretion is advised! Also, I hope I don't need to say this but I will just in case, I do not condone these sorts of actions!!! Or any actions in any of my work. This is pure fiction. Also, all my OCs and the reader are over the age of 18+. and I'm not gonna add google translate because that takes forever and you guys won't even be able to read it so he conveniently speaks the same language as the reader.

Notes: Aaaaa! I have 21 followers! You guys are absolutely amazing! I never thought anyone would want to read my stuff let alone like and reblog. This doesn't take place in any place in particular, if anything I heavily rely on the climate of my home. I was though heavily influenced by Vikings and their nordic culture of that time, however, I had originally planned to make the oc a barbarian of sorts and not a Viking. But my inspiration dive into Pinterest left me with Vikings so here we are. I might write a nomadic barbarian fic later on cause I do see them as quite different in my mind but it depends where this goes, I usually write the notes and triggers before I start writing as a way of planning my thoughts so it might change halfway through.

Also the climatic event in the beginning, in my mind, is the cause of a volcanic eruption somewhere on earth, there was a year of just constant winter due to a massive eruption a few centuries ago and I wanted to include that and showcase how superstitious the people of this time were, seeing the winter as a foreshadowing of terror. And hell they were right.

Lots of love Mae xx

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It was far too early in the season for the cold winds to be here. Your father pretended to not be frightened but you could see it in his eyes. There was a fear lingering. You could hear your parents whispering in worry when they thought you were asleep. You could hear your mother sob as they discussed what it could mean. Your homeland was one of sun and thunder, but never frost, never snow. Yet, a chill had descended onto your lands. A frost had spread across the summer grass. Your bare feet crunched upon what should have been dried pasture, instead, they were chilled by a wicked frost. The sun that you would curse for its harsh warmth was now hidden behind constant grey clouds and you begged for it to return. The floods and storms you ragged against never came. No seasonal thunderstorms after the humidity of the day. There was just darkness. Travellers and merchants from far-off lands, journeying to the capital came through your village, speaking of the darkness that had spread. It seemed like no kingdom or empire was safe. The frost and darkness had come for all.

The first omen of their arrival was the frost itself. It seeped into everything and made the ground as solid as rock, the summer pastures shrivelled up and left nothing but dirt behind.

The second omen was the famine. The harvest failed and the livestock starved. Your father was forced to sell the heifers and cows and slaughter all calves and steers to provide for your family. Still, it wasn't enough. You heard gruesome tales of far-off villages butchering each other for scraps of meat from their bones. Your village was lucky, the sea still provided as much as it could.

The third omen was the dragons. Firey images in the night sky, leaving streaks of light hanging in the air. As soon as they appeared men cried out and women fell to their knees. It was a sign of a terror to come.

The final omen was a raven.

The skies had begun to clear and the winter rains had soothed the harsh scars left behind. Crops had been sown and the frost retreated in the face of the reappeared sun. You had all thought that the struggles of the last few months were over. Your father had been able to buy a cow with calf last week with money you made weaving baskets. She was a skinny thing even with the calf in her belly, but with the winter rain healing the land, you could see her regaining strength.

You had thought it was a crow when you first saw it. It did seem to be a bit bigger than the crows that waited patiently for your fish scraps by the pier. But you had never seen a raven before, so why think anything of it. It had flown in from the sea, flew over the village before fixing its gaze on your mother's garden. Your mother prized her garden, especially her roses, and had cried bitter tears when the frost killed the flowers, leaving thorny masses behind, but they had begun to regrow, leaving your families house surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of daisies and violas, butterfly pea flowers and lilacs. You had your favourites of course. In fact, you were picking them right now, happy to make a bouquet for your ancestors' burial place. As you were sitting and deciding which flowers to choose, the raven landed beside you, you watch in amazement as it plucked a flower from your hand and rose into the air and back towards the sea. Standing up with a giggle you chased after it in play until you reached your property's fence. You watched until it was nothing but a black dot in a sky of blue. If you had known what it had foreshadowed you would have wrung its neck.

They themselves came in the night.

They landed on the beaches and in silence drifted into town. Axes drawn and blood-hungry. The first death was the blacksmith. He was stumbling from the inn, stomach filled with ale. He saw them first, and let out a cry of warning, but it did not save him from a dagger sliding across his throat. The killer let out a howl. His comrades followed. The screams began.

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You had lost sight of your mother in the smoke of the burning village. Fire ragged towards the heavens. The smell of charcoal and blood ravaged your senses. The yelling and screaming were just a constant now. Like how a bird song drifts into the background. You stood immobile calling for your mother, begging her to reveal herself. Out of habit, you called for your father, but you were harshly reminded that dead men can't answer. You watched as the savages ripped men to the ground and let blood flow. They hadn't noticed you yet it seemed. A lone wraith shaking in the centre of town. In the centre of all the murder and mayhem. For a moment you thought you were dead. That the arrow your father had taken for you had indeed struck you and now you were wandering the mortal realm alone and afraid until St Peter called for you.

Your eyes reached towards the heavens and you began to beg for the angels to pluck you from this horror. Your arms wrapped around yourself as tears flowed down your soot-covered cheeks. You were broken from your prayers when you heard your name being called, your mother perhaps? Your eyes rushed to find her. No, you can't see her. But it was enough to have you moving towards the darkness and away from the light of the fire. With your arms still holding you tight, you began to stumble towards the outskirts of town. Once in the fields outside town, you could hide. Wait till they grew bored of your village and left in their ships to torment another village. You were reminded of a time when you were fearful of the dark. But now it was your salvation. Tripping over your feet you struggled to remain standing, leaning on the walls of yet-to-be-destroyed houses and holding onto the rungs of fences. You kept rushing forward, eyes onto the safety of darkness. You were close, only a few more steps.

A beast emerged from the darkness. His face burned with the light of the fire, and his axe shined with delight. His furs were matted with blood and encompassed his shoulder. His arms were bare save for strips of leather circling them. There was blood on his arms and hands as well, dripping onto the handle of his axe and onto the dirt below. You stood still, hoping perhaps you were dead. That he would just pass by and you could remain nothing more but a spirit. If death was without pain you would prefer it to the horrors the beast in front of you was capable of. His face was marked with blood, lines travelling over his forehead and down through his eyes. His eyes flickered with hunger and his mouth was turned up into a grin. He stood feet wide as if he was ready to battle, but his hand was loose on the axe, allowing it to dangle from his palm. He saw no threat in you.

A strange mix of sounds came from his mouth, while his voice was rough and stern, his words were lyrical and filled with rounded sounds and quick sharp notes. It left you confused and almost enchanted, like a deer in the gaze of a hunter.

His voice stopped and his eyes drifted down and then up. He gave a deep laugh at the site of your cowering.

"Come little mutt, stand tall" he chuckled with amusement. You whimpered at the sight of him, a beast of a man denying your freedom. He began to march towards you his axe swinging in his hold. You try to take steps back but he is quicker. You yelp as he pushes you towards a wall, his thick forearm resting against your neck as he peers down at you. You could see the scars littering his face and could smell the stench of blood dominating his body. You could feel the warmth of the blood from his arm smearing all over your neck and chest. You hated to think whose blood it once was.

"Little mutt has no teeth huh? What about claws? hm?" he questioned, joy in your torment in his eyes.

"If I was to fuck you now would you fight me? Would you claw at me or bite at my fingers?" he laughed at your obvious fear. He brought his head down to your neck and sniffed loudly. You cringed as his nose met your skin.

"You smell sweet little mutt. I wonder if you taste just as good"

you struggled as his tongue run up your neck, tears tumbling down your cheeks.

"As sweet as honey!" he cheered. His forearm dug into your neck further as you struggled to escape. He began to shush you, giving out soothing sounds like you would a crying baby as his body stepped forward to meet yours.

" Please don't kill me" you choked, eyes red with fear.

"Never little one!" he bellowed, his face of mock hurt. "Why would I kill you? hm?" he comforted, releasing his arm if only by a fraction. "You will fetch me a high price at the slave markets, little lamb. Men will go mad trying to buy you for their beds" he grinned, showing off his sharp canine teeth. You struggled once more, this time clawing at his arm and chest.

"So the little mutt has claws! Maybe I will keep you for myself. Use you to warm my cock. Would you like that little one?" he teased, he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to catch the tears on your cheek.

" Get off me" you grunted, desperately trying to remove his arm. he teased you by feigning pity.

"Poor little lamb, you must be so scared. Trapped by a beast like me" he cooed, pushing his arm further into your skin. You watched as his eyes drifted to your chest below his arm. He dropped the axe in his other hand to the ground, it falling flat with a light thud. He looked you in the eyes once more. You could see mischief in them.

"I am torn between keeping you for my bed slave and making a small fortune on another man's desires. Let me see your wares and then I shall decide" he sang, his grin reaching higher and higher with each word. You could only watch in horror as his hands reached for the front of your night smock and ripped it. You tried to grab his wrists but he was too strong. In a mere moment, your smock lay tattered on the ground and you stood bare in the night air. His eyes drank you in, and his hands drifted over your body. He gripped tightly in some places and softly in others. Blood from his hands was left smeared all over you, like rivers on a map. His eyes found yours once more and glee was evident on his face.

"I have decided little mutt. You shall warm my bed and most importantly me" he proclaimed, laughing at the end. "I am to be your master and you the little mutt at my heels. But first, let me dull those claws, hm?"

You stood arms covering yourself confused at his words. You had no claws to dull.

You gave a shriek as he began to drag you into the darkness. His hand was tight against your wrists. You tried to use your body weight to stop him, but it only ended with you falling to the ground and him dragging you through the dirt. You screamed and kicked, shouted and cried. He just laughed.

The dirt turned to soft grass as released you from his grip. You shot up to your bare feet, only to be thrown to the ground and a foot thrown on your stomach.

"I admire your fight little mutt, but as your master, I cannot in good conscious allow you to disrespect me. it would not be natural." he cooed at you, his hair falling into his eyes. You choked out a sob at the thought of what he planned to do. You were both far enough from the town your screams would not be heard and you were both hidden by lush pasture. You began to pray, your words drowning in sobs.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kin-"

"Enough!" shouted, falling onto his knees above you, a dagger glinting in his hand.

"Keep your God, fine, but do not expect kindness from me when you beg for his mercy" he sneered. You watched in terror as the dagger raced towards your head, only for it to land safely in the soil next to you.

"Now little lamb moan sweetly for me, will you?" he smiled, his grin one of filth. You lay there looking up at him in fear. "I said moan" he barked, his hand reaching for your throat. You gave him what he wanted, although it was tarnished by your terror.

"Like the music of the gods" he praised. He removed his hand from your throat and brought both to your knees, lifting them up and slotting himself in between them.

"Look at you little mutt, shaking and cowering in fear and yet I haven't even fucked you yet. You Christians are strange folk. If you knew of pleasure you would be moaning on my cock by now. You yourself would have begged for it. Begged for me to fuck your tight little hole on the ashes of your ho-" you slapped him with a furry. A rage releases from you, with you reaching for the dagger beside your head. His hand reached for yours first and punished it with his strength. He gave off a terrifying laugh as you were forced to drop the knife and he quickly threw it behind him.

"Maybe you aren't a little mutt but a little wolf instead. That fire in you will warm my cock and balls for years to come. But first, let me break you in"

You really did wish that arrow had found its mark in you.

#vikings #oc #gn!reader #viking oc #i noticed i write in past tense. I guess thats just my writing #i was going to tag yandere but it isnt #its just dark #viking x reader #oc viking x reader #dark fic #dark drabble #tw noncon

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vantablackstudios · 4 months

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//hi!! <3. putting this here for a starting place for the clan's story. using some of the beginning characters to create some new lore for the clan!

year 0 lineup:

sootstar: a masked grey tabby tom with green eyes, 42 moons old. sootstar is the kit of guppypaw, and the brother of cinderscreech. from a young age, he's been told many stories of the lives of the clans, and through his adult life, he's helped his mother follow starclan's will to begin a new clan. he is a doting father to his two kits, fernpaw and dewpaw, and misses his mate rosymeadow horribly.

traits: righteous, great climber, lore keeper

echorain: a masked black bengal and white tom, 55 moons old. echorain was a kittypet before meeting guppypaw's group. he was one of the later entries of the group, and after recieving visions of pawprints leading to the tidepools, and starry cats swimming under the waves, he decided to join the clan under sootstar's leadership. he was made deputy as a result of his logical mind and fighting prowess, and vows to work with sootstar to enforce the warrior code.

traits: responsible, unusually strong fighter

apprentice: dewpaw

scarletpoppy: a ginger, single-striped she-cat, 85 moons. scarletpoppy is the clan's medicine cat, a skilled healer and prophet. she was a nomadic, traveling healer in her youth, but as she got earlier, she sought a secure community to settle down in. she was the first cat to join guppypaw's blossoming clan, after receiving a vision of an injured warrior in need of her help. her friendship with guppypaw blossomed here, and she chose her friend's son, sootstar, to lead the clan. she's a wise influence, and is her leader's most trusted advisor.

traits: faithful, trustful advisor, connection to starclan

batheart: a white tom with dark-grey spots and blue eyes, 117 moons. batheart is an older tom, glad for a home to settle down. he's a faithful cat, and felt lost in his spirituality. he'd spent so long alone, wandering with no goals in life, which made him question whether there really is a purpose to living. when he met guppypaw and her developing clan, he realized that there really was a force, starclan, that had destined him to become a warrior in the new guppyclan. he's determined to prove his worth in this new group, and to achieve his true purpose in life.

traits: charistmatic, den builder, good hunter

carpglide: a golden, smokey she-cat with bronze eyes, 68 moons. carpglide is a headstrong, fiery, and ambitious warrior, willing to take risks if it means keeping her clan safe. she was part of a rather rough and tumble group of rogues in her youth, but was intrigued by the structure and community that came with being a warrior. she's become good friends with the cats in her clan, and wouldn't have it any other way.

traits: daring, trusted advisor

apprentice: fernpaw

cinderscreech: a dark-grey tabby warrior with hazel eyes, 42 moons. cinderscreech is sootstar's sibling, and they're rather brash. though they know they wouldn't be an effective leader, they find themselves endlessly jealous of their brother. cinderscreech knows they are abrasive and often unfriendly, but he can't help but wish he had the power and influence that their brother has.

traits: daring, good hunter

foxwhistle: a marbled, ginger tabby she-cat with gold eyes, 12 moons. foxwhistle was found as a kit, abandoned and alone on a sandbar. she was raised by the whole clan, and grew up among many wise warriors. as a result, she's rather intelligent and well spoken. many cats admire how much of a smart young cat she is, and believe she'll grow up to do great things.

traits: charismatic, good storyteller

dewpaw: a dark grey, smokey tom with pretty eyes, 6 moons. a little troublemaker, dewpaw is a rather immature young cat. he gives his mentor plenty of sass, and thinks that he could become a warrior right now with little trouble. he believes that since he's sootstar's son, he is obviously next in line to be leader. all of this big-headedness gets lots of laughter and head-shaking from the older warriors.

traits: childish, splashes in puddles, quick witted.

mentor: echorain

fernpaw: a black she-cat with a white splash on her chest, 6 moons. fernpaw is a much more reserved apprentice, much quieter than her brother, at least. she wants to make carpglide and her father proud, and is a dutiful worker. she is an avid daydreamer, though, and often needs to be shaken from her imagination to focus on work.

traits: oblivious, quick to help, careful listener

mentor: carpglide

guppypaw: a grey, smokey she-cat with yellow eyes, 125 moons. guppypaw was a mediator apprentice, well on her way to becoming a mediator. on her final assessment, a trip to mediate relations with another clan, a storm ravaged the beach, sweeping her far away. after a long journey, she became a loner. she eventually began seeing visions from starclan, destining her to establish a new clan. after many moons, she is so proud of her kits, her grandkits, and the cats they've met along the way that have formed her clan. she is honored to be guppyclan's namesake, and is happy to spend her retirement in her new home.

traits: nervous, good speaker, fast runner

i'll hooopefully try and update every few moons or so. ill try and draw some scenes from the clan too, just to practice drawing cats.

thanks for reading <3

#clangen #warrior cats #wc oc #clangen challenge #clangen blog #warrior cats oc #warrior cats art #clan gen oc

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fuckzachariah · 10 months

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xv. you're losing me ; @aleburton

Some moments emblazon themselves upon memory seemingly of their own accord; Zach remembers the morning Alex didn’t show up for their flight from Denver to Oklahoma with blistering clarity. The sun seemed unusually high for the early hour, more white than yellow, and unforgiving on the eye as he stood on the tarmac for too long. Waiting for her. Amanda waited behind him, hanging from the open door of the private plane, yelling at him to get inside. But he didn't, not yet. He squinted out at the wide expanse of grey with his hand shielding his eyes, a small frown etched onto his chiseled face in a dissociative moment of disbelief. She wasn’t coming. At his mangled core, he understood the gravity of her decision. But still it floated listlessly within him, unable to take root in any one place. The pain was mobile, nomadic, never striking any chord hard enough to force him into digesting the truth. That she was gone, and had no reason to come back.

The following days passed in a slow-bleed, like losing consciousness over the course of a week; his attempts to reach out to her left ignored, his calls left unanswered, his questions hanging among the clouds between states. After his relentless dissections of their final few interactions, he could only parse that the waiting had grown too much for her. Too torturous. That maybe she realized what would be hers on the other side of the wait wasn't worth hanging on for.

Zach flipped a switch; turned to stand-by. He went through the motions necessary in order to finish the tour, and then... Well, he didn't know what. He didn't want anything - no noise, no sound, no external stimuli at all. He needed the absolute silence of his own bedroom, then he needed to stay there, sterile and still, until things started making sense again. Until Alex showed up in his doorway and told him when he was done figuring his shit out, she'd be there, waiting for him to love her without having to kill her, too. The love surrounding him was overbearing. He didn't want it - didn't want Ryan's constant checking in, didn't want Sarah's subtle tells that she was ready to indulge him whenever he wanted to cave, didn't want Eden's soft voice and tentative smiles, didn't want Amanda organizing his therapy calls and clearing the room for his 'rest'. He hated that everyone knew him, that they saw him. So, while Kylie French wasn't altogether welcome, she wasn't unwelcome, either.

A little flitter at an after-party, at first. A small blonde thing with a loud laugh and clearwater eyes. Zach had taken himself away, and for whatever reason, she'd followed him. He'd gone terse, naturally unfriendly, but she sensed a sadness in him and de-threaded it from his chest, wove herself into the complexities of the fabric almost wordlessly. She didn't seem to want anything from him. Only to share a few words, smiles, then she was gone. And she existed on, harmlessly, inside his phone. He often couldn't find it in himself to respond to her texts, or pick up her occasional calls - she buzzed like white noise, always waiting for him when he was ready to lift his heavy head and welcome it onto the sharp dip of her shoulder. It wasn't everything, like he was missing. But it wasn't nothing, either.

Then, eventually, only one week remained till the end of tour. He was still sober. He wished he could be proud of himself, like everyone else was. He hated their pride. He wanted Alex's pride. He missed her like waking up with no teeth - he didn't have to run his tongue over his bare gums to know she was gone. Every morning, over and over. Just one more week to go and it would all be quiet again, just like he needed.

#para

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zebee-nyx · 10 months

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CalmWriMo Day 29

[11/29/2023]

Update!

Wow, crazy that tomorrow is the last day. (0.0) So that at the very least is exciting. Otherwise today has been a little stressful, but most of that dissolved when I lost the last three hours to the beast that is being zoned while worldbuilding. (>v<) Even remembered that drinking water is a thing! So big plus there.

Progress:

2 Hour Writing Goal: ✅

Blurb: [see below]

Self Care:

Food: ✅

Hydration: ✅

Sleep: ❌ [(x.x)]

Reading: ✅

Blurb: Neocago Fashion

As stated previously: Appearances mean a lot in Neocago. In an instant clothing communicates the wearer's status, cliques or group affiliation, how dangerous they may be, and even simply how cool they are. This coupled with a booming desire for personalization has created many unique styles.

While decreasing in use and availability there is still clothing made from old world fabrics. These are most often handy downs that survived the tests of time, or at least what remains of them as patches to mend other clothing. While some new old world fabrics are still made, it is prohibitively expensive for all except for a select few. Instead most clothing and fabrics are made from nylon or polyester.

Styles:

Patchwear: More of a "pseudo-style" resulting from reusing and splicing pieces of clothing together. It is a common look in the Undercity, Junkyards, and with Nomads as a necessity because new clothing is either unavailable or usually not a higher priority than paying for food or shelter. The Uppercity has a very 'missing the point' type of high fashion that imitates this with perfectly good clothes after a few tourists felt particularly inspired following an Undercity trip.

Neo-Western: This style replicates the old western fashion using newer materials. The style's odd return is more for practical reasons, namely keeping dust common out in the Wastes and Yards off of under clothing and skin. High collars that help protect the wear's face and duster jackets are fairly common. Also for those that dare to venture out during the day a wide brimmed hat is a must.

Night Flash: This clothing came alongside the transition to a nocturnal lifestyle becoming the default. This clothing makes use of electronic lighting, reflective fabrics, and glowing materials atop a dark base to outline features or create designs. While typically the full fledged style is more common with party goers and clubs, other styles steal some tamed elements of Night Flash.

Polar-Grey: By far the most common across the Midcity and sees some use in parts of the Undercity and Uppercity. This style often has a few layers to account for cold winters as well as frequent strong winds coming off the lake. Like the name suggests this style relies on the monotony of the color grey. This is only broken by a single, typically bright, color localized to a couple small spots such as a stripe outlining the lapel or a scarf. Fake fur scarfs and detailing is sometimes incorporated. Polar-Grey is essentially the goto for business casual or streetwear.

Neo-Panasian: For a few decades before the Great Collapse there was a massive influx of Asian immigration to the US. Particularly from countries such as China, South Japan [yes, this is intentional], Korea, and Vietnam. In Chicago these people's settled closely together. In an effort to preserve and celebrate their cultural identities they made it a point to produce and wear the traditional styles of clothing from their homelands. After the Great Collapse this trend persisted, although a steep population drop resulted in a "squeeze" as these groups banded closer together to help each other survive. This caused the eventual birth of the Neo-Panasian style that blends many different traditional styles together along with incorporating some more modern trends.

Brutalist: A style that was directly inspired by the architecture of the same name. It frequently pairs darker colors with a rigid and angular design that commands the space around it in a powerful way. Like the architecture it was based on there is a lack of defining details beyond shape. It is frequently worn by higher ups of corporations for business and certain formal occasions.

Utopian: A very new style of clothing only ever used by the wealthy. It aims for a clean look with white and semi-transparent clothing. It has preference for more rounded shapes which sets it apart from the more angular Brutalist and Polar-Grey styles also frequent in the Uppercity. Inviting and calmer colors such as cyan, blue, green, and yellow are used in it's detailing along with shiny gold and silver trims. This style emphasis an artistic and futuristic approach with arches that lift away from the body among other little oddities.

Idolwear: This is the wild card of clothing. This is often worn by idols who are focused on directing attention to themselves as well as distinguishing themselves from others. While extremely diverse and in constant flux each week, there are some common themes. The two most frequent are exposed skin, which doesn't need much said, and a shoulder perch on at least one side. This shoulder perch is common to provide a place for a cam-drone to dock for both recharging on the go and to give a POV or close up camera angle. Otherwise, Idolwear takes elements from other styles or more unique individual designs.

[Oh boy... Was that a bit much? I didn't even exhaust all my notes... (0.0) Anyways and always, hope you had a lovely day, peace (^.^)v]

#writeblr #writing #writing community #cyberpunk #worldbuilding #calmwrimo #digitally dead #nanowrimo

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andrastesflamingknickers · 6 months

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I Don't Understand, But I Want To Hear You Talking Still

Obligatory AO3 Link

Elio grimaced as he removed the last bit of armor, setting it neatly beside his pack. They’d been unlucky enough to have crossed paths with a party of soldiers who were rather extreme in their support of Loghain and their… opposition of Wardens, to put it kindly. Since words never seemed enough to settle any dispute these days, Elio and his companions had to resolve their disagreements the old-fashioned way.

Which, of course, meant a hearty use of violence.

The nameless soldiers and radicals had gotten more than a few good hits on him, and while Elio was hardly on the cusp of death when all was done, he did have to down a few elfroot potions before he could get back on his feet.

So… he was more than a little sore when they found a safe place to set up camp.

There was still an hour or so of sunlight, time spent preparing camp. His companions had scattered about, gathering and hunting as needed.

For his part, Elio was sitting on the dirt, a map of the kingdom spread out in front of him, several smaller, local maps surrounding it. He needed to figure out where they’d go in the morning. They needed to find the Dalish, but their being a nomadic group made that task somewhat difficult. As far as anyone knew, they shouldbe in the Brecilian Forest. The key word being should.

His gaze flickered to the local forest maps. There were a few pockets of villages around the forest. With luck, one of the settlements may have traded with the Dalish or had seen signs of them recently enough to give Elio a direction to go in so they wouldn’t have to wander the forest blind.

Despite his best efforts, Elio couldn’t help but feel… uneasy about meeting the Dalish.

Sure, he was an elf, and they were elves. In theory, they should all be able to get along swimmingly! Except theories rarely panned out, and the alienage back home painted a mixed picture when it came to them. Alarith said they’d saved him when he was a child, so Elio hoped things would go okay. But Valendrian never seemed too impressed by the clans.

Elio squeezed his eyes shut as he thought back to the alienage. In the months of travel, his home still felt like a fresh wound, gaping and bleeding. He missed his family and his friends, and he still grieved the life he was forced to give up. He hoped Shianni was doing okay and his father was caring for her. He hoped that Soris’ marriage to Valora had been happy and that Nesiara was doing okay. Maybe she’d found herself a better groom and was happily engaged to someone better than him.

Now, he felt even worse. Great.

Shaking his head, Elio rolled the maps back up and tucked them safely into his pack before looking around. Most of the party was still out doing their tasks. Sten was over by his freshly erected tent, kneeling on the dirt in what looked like meditation, and Garahel was happily sleeping in the dirt.

He spotted Morrigan off to the side, and his gaze focused on the flashes of magic around her.

Curious—and when was Elio ever not curious when it came to her? Curious, invested, enthralled, there was a whole vocabulary list that could be used—he pushed himself back to his feet with a pained grunt and made his way over to her, a limp in his step as his wounds were jostled.

Seeing his approach, Morrigan paused in whatever arcane act she had been working on to watch him close the distance. A small smile was on her lips, a smile different from the one she had when mocking and taunting the other companions; this one was reserved only for him.

“Ah, the Grey Warden himself; how kind of you to check up on me,” Morrigan teased, hands on her hip as she looked down at him. Elio couldn’t help but grin back at her, feeling his heart flutter.

He wasn’t sure what they were. It wasn’t something they discussed. They were more than friends; he knew that much; after all, friends didn’t regularly kiss each other or roll around the bed sheets together. What he did know was that he always felt inexplicably delighted when he was with their residential witch.

“You know me, have to make sure everyone’s content and not planning to kill our wayward prince,” Elio quipped back lightly, breaking off into a slight hiss of pain when he twisted the wrong way, agitating a gash on his side.

For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of concern in Morrigan’s eyes, and maybe it was just wishful thinking, as she was just as quick to look slightly irritable. Then again, irritable was her default expression. "Are your wounds from our last little fight causing you trouble?”

“Nothing more than I can handle.”

Morrigan’s gaze was a skeptical one. “So you say,” she countered, looking him over with a raised eyebrow. “Try not to drink all our potions in the meantime, hm? The road ahead is long, and who knows when we’ll have the chance to restock with so many villages razed by the Blight or overtaken by Loghain’s Warden-hating forces.”

She had a point—she always did. And so Elio did what he did best: He smiled and laughed slightly awkwardly before responding, “You’re right. I’ll have to ask Wynne when she gets back if she could patch me up.”

It was easy to miss for most, but Elio caught her scoff. “I’m no spirit healer, but no self-respecting mage would go on their merry way without knowing a healing spell or two,” she said, holding him in her steely gaze before holding out a hand with all the tenderness of a porcupine. “This will, at the least, ease the pain.”

There was a moment of pause, a silent asking for permission, and Elio gave her a slight nod. Moments later, he felt the rush of magic—a sensation that he was becoming increasingly familiar with—flow through him, and with it, his pain faded.

“Feeling better?” Morrigan asked as she pulled her hand back.

“Much.”

The witch nodded. “Marvelous. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve work to return to,” she said as she retrieved her staff again. Catching Elio’s gaze and his silent question, she exaggerated her sigh. “If you must know, I was doing the same as I do every time we settle down for the night in the wilderness. I’m in the process of casting wards.”

That was a curious thing. He’d never seen her casting wards before, and Wynne had never commented on it, so clearly, it wasn’t harmful. But… well, Elio didn’t know enough about magic to understand, and he’d never pass up a chance to provoke Morrigan into talking more about her craft.

“Care to elaborate on these wards?”

Humming, he saw Morrigan silently debate her answer; he could see the urge to respond with something sarcastic in her gaze. “Deterrents, of a sort. To keep dangers from the camp.” His surprise must have been more evident than he thought if her disapproving look was anything to go by. “Did you truly believe the wandering darkspawn, bandits, and beast chose to avoid us on a whim?”

“Well…” He never thought much about why nothing ever came to bother them at night, no matter how deep in the wilderness they got. Apparently, he should have.

Morrigan, at least, took it in stride with an amused huff. “T’was no coincidence we’ve remained undisturbed since we began our journey. Should I fear for your common sense if you were unaware?” she asked mockingly.

He held his hands up in surrender. “It’s not as if I just assume we’ll be fine, and I do make sure we have someone keeping watch while the rest of our group sleeps,” Elio defended. Sure, most of the time, the one keeping watch was him; the nightmares made it hard to sleep, so he figured he’d get some use out of it. But the point still stood.

But he couldn’t be expected to understand or know every little magic-related thing Morrigan or Wynne did. He’d never had any contact with mages before the Blight, and magic was still new to him.

She watched him a few seconds longer before shaking her head, “I suppose you are correct. And you are not entirely hopeless; your delegation skills, at least, have been impressive.” She said it with a much more approving tone, which relaxed him. “We arrive here at camp, and within minutes, you had Sten setting the tents, Wynne collecting herbs and berries for our supplies, Leliana hunting game, and even that miserable oaf off to collect wood for the fire. It’s remarkable how they are all so quick and ready to rally behind you, and you are most adept at using their individual skills.”

Morrigan leaned slightly on her staff as she looked at him, her sudden slouch bringing her closer to his height. “That leadership quality will take you far in life, when utilized correctly, of course.”

Unable to help himself, Elio grinned and pushed himself onto his toes to be higher, and closer to Morrigan. “Aww, if you’re trying to butter me up with flattery, it’s working.”

Morrigan snorted back a laugh and gently shoved him back. “Oh, you are insufferable. You know t’was not meant to be flattery.”

“I don’t know. All I’m hearing is that the group would have fallen apart without me,” Elio said, still as playful as he shrugged. “Alistair doesn’t like to lead, and the others are unqualified or would have never been recruited to our little group. And you certainly are not leader material.” Not that he really thought anyone in their group was.

Still, he was rewarded with a light smack to his shoulder.

“I’ll have you know I possess excellent leadership qualities, should the situation require,” Morrigan said crossly. “But you are the Gray Warden, and thus, I shall follow your lead when it comes to the issue of darkspawn,” and then her irritated expression shifted into a taunting one. “Unless you would rather I gather my own Blight-conquering troupe and saunter off, leaving you alone and unprotected in spider-infested wilds?”

It was a joke. He knew she was only teasing, and she wouldn’t actually leave them, but the thought made him pause, the unease showing, however brief it was.

Satisfied at his discomfort, Morrigan crossed her arms and smirked. “I thought not. You may kneel and beg for forgiveness now.”

He relaxed as the topic eased back into familiar territory, and not one to let an opportunity such as this slip by, Elio dropped to his knees, prostrating himself in a most exaggerated way. “Oh, please do forgive me, my dear Morrigan, for I know not what I say,” Elio begged, fighting hard to hold back his laughter as he brought his face as close to the ground as he could. “Of course, you are by far a superior leader, and I am humbled that you would allow me to guide this group in your stead. I am not but an idiot to dare question your abilities.”

Morrigan had a more challenging time containing her laughter than him as hers came bubbling out. “Enough, enough. Oh, stand up, you adorable fool,” she laughed, tugging at his shoulders to drag him back to his feet. “Cease this scene at once!”

They continued laughing for a short time, long enough for Garahel to perk up and for Sten to look their way. They recovered soon enough, too.

Moments like that felt far and few between, given how haggard and dismal their days often were. Elio couldn’t help but cherish the moments when he made her laugh like that.

Catching her breath, Morrigan stepped back and took a moment to collect herself before speaking again. “Anyway. Allow me a minute to concentrate, and I shall finish these barriers so we can sleep properly.”

Taking his cue, Elio stepped back to give her space to work, watching curiously all the same.

Morrigan caught his eye as she raised her staff to the air. “Now then… a smoke-dispelling spell to start with. We can’t have everyone seeing our fires from miles away, now can we?” she asked him, and seconds later, a soft flood of magic filled the area as she cast her spell. Elio watched the magic, picking out fading particles of stardust in the air before turning his gaze back to the mage, who looked far more focused as she prepared for her next spell. “Another little one so our allies won’t be left stumbling blindly through the woods all night seeking us out.”

There was another gentle flash as her magic worked its way through the air. Morrigan cast an illusionary spell to hide them from the senses and another, subtler one she called it, to dissuade people from getting too close to their camp. Elio watched her cast each one with as much wonder as a child watching his first sunrise.

He was sure he was supposed to feel something different about her magic, that he was supposed to feel uneasy at seeing her work. After all, the Chantry claimed magic was an evil power if wielded by those outside the circles. But for Elio, he just felt a buzzing warmth beneath his skin, and for as sharp as she may come off as, he had a hard time believing Morrigan was any shade of evil.

She must have finished with the last of the protective wards as she lowered her staff back against her pack, looking satisfied with her work.

The others hadn’t returned yet, but the sun hadn’t finished its descent either. Morrigan glanced to the setting sun and then to their still near-empty camp before giving a hum. “Now that I’ve finished and we’ve some time still to ourselves, I would like to take a look at your Gray Warden treaties once more?” she asked and gave a slow, languid shrug. “Had I known of their importance before, I undoubtedly would have paid them closer attention. But, alas, my mother has many more books and tomes that interested me more than mere politics.”

He could understand that. Had he not been thrust into the role he now held, Elio would certainly have never had any interest or drive to read through treaties or other political papers. To be fair, he could hardly make sense of them, either. The alienages did not offer much in terms of education; humans often felt oddly threatened by the idea of an educated elf, and he had only ever learned enough of the written language to get by. His companions—excluding Sten and Morrigan, of course—had been so helpful in helping him to improve.

“Of course,” Elio said, returning to his tent with Morrigan in tow. “You’re always welcome to look over these documents whenever you wish. We wouldn’t have had them if not for you and your mother, after all. Mind if I ask what’s piqued your interest in them so suddenly?”

Reaching his corner of the camp, Elio knelt to rummage through his bag, seeking out the old papers. Garahel barked in greeting, panting happily, but made no move to get up, far too comfortable where he was already lying.

“I fear the wording of these treaties may not be as binding as we may need to convince our targets of the necessity of their assistance,” Morrigan explained as she stood over him. “These are ancient agreements, possibly lost or forgotten by the very people we seek to approach. I wonder, what sway does a tattered parchment signed by a distant ancestor still hold over the people we seek?”

“Hopefully, enough sway to have them send aid. The Blight will affect them too; after all, it's better to unite against it than die in our own secluded corners,” Elio offered as he found the pages in question and handed them off. “Is there a specific one you’re nervous about?” She gave him a sharp look, so Elio quickly amended, “I mean, you’re skeptical of?”

Morrigan hummed as she sat beside him in the shade of his tent. “I am particularly interested in the Dalish we’re already in pursuit of,” she conceded as she began leafing through the documents. “It’ll be enlightening to see if they’ve maintained the knowledge of shapeshifting magic. I’ve yet to encounter another who knows it beyond my Mother.”

Ellio nodded along. He could imagine it wasn’t a kind of magic the circles were keen to teach. “Might just be because it’s you, but it seems so fascinating,” He was rewarded with another light swat from her. His flirting was unappreciated.

“It is more than just ‘fascinating,’” Morrigan responded. “Even if you put aside the fighting utilities you often see, it can be a blessing when you wish to be alone.”

“How so?”

She hummed, her eye briefly skimming over the documents before looking back at him. “Imagine; if I desire some time to think, some space from others, I can simply become one of the forest creatures and slink off into the night,” Morrigan explained, smiling ever so softly yet again. “To run with the wolves or to soar through the night sky like an owl, there is nothing quite like it to unburden one’s mind.”

He tried to imagine it and found himself smiling along with her. “It sounds nice. Freeing, in a way.”

Morrigan watched him for a moment, her expression still that rare bit of warmth, before breaking away with a sigh as she leaned against him ever so slightly in their seated positions. He’d never grow tired of the heat of her body against his own. “Such a shame the Chantry ruled such magics forbidden,” she lamented. “They do so enjoy forbidding any magic that they do not understand.”

Alistair was the first to return to their camp. Under one arm, he carried a bundle of small sticks for kindling and handfuls of what looked like cotton for tinder. The basket on his back was filled with heaver sticks and chopped branches. All in all, it looked like he’d gathered enough wood to keep their fire burning through the night.

As his fellow Warden made his way through camp, Elio caught his eye and raised his hand in greeting with a smile. Immediately, Alistair smiled, looking like he was about to say something. Still, that expression soured when he saw Morrigan beside him, who had pressed herself closer to Elio in response. As expected, his friend made an obscene gesture to their mage, and Morrigan mirrored it right back at him.

Face flushed, Alistair stalked off with a grumble, finding a spot in the center of the camp to get the fire going rather than letting himself get pulled into some argument or verbal fight.

“Such a jealous man,” Morrigan murmured as she rested her head tauntingly on Elio’s shoulder when Alistair glanced their way again and smirked as she continued. “Perhaps later, you should throw him a bone.”

Elio didn’t really get what she was talking about or what Alistair had to be jealous about, so he hummed in response. He had no problem finding Alistair later; he would have regardless of Morrigan’s suggestion. That was his best friend, after all.

“Anyway,” Morrigan said, changing subjects quickly and pushing herself away from him again now that Alistair’s attention was no longer on them. “Tis come to my attention that I’ve spoken far too much of myself. It is only fair you share something of yourself in exchange—don’t look at me like that; I do not actually care about your life; it is simply a matter of principle. You dig out secrets from your companions and give nothing in return about yourself; I intend to change that.”

She shoved him slightly when Elio didn’t wipe his bemused expression off his face, and he laughed in response.

“Okay, okay… something about myself,” Elio grinned, tapping his chin as he considered it. It wasn’t as if he had anything especially fascinating about himself, nothing like his companions. He was just a poor elf living in the slums of Denerim. The most exciting thing that’s ever happened to him before he became a Warden was the wedding day disaster, and that wasn’t a story he really wanted to share with them.

A few seconds went by as he sifted through possible things to share. “Well… I worked as a carpenter's assistant before, well, everything,” Elio offered and rolled his eyes when he saw Morrigan’s expression. “Don’t get any weird ideas in your head. The shem I worked for didn’t let me work on any projects. Most of what I did was run around as a fancy errand boy for them.”

“But you did pick up some carpentry skills, I presume?”

“A few,” Ellio nodded as he scratched at the ground. “I know how to repair a roof and can make and install a door, too. That was one of my favorite things—not the installation, but the making. I got to leave the alienage with little harassment when I went to the shop, and sometimes they let me make and carve things.”

Morrigan stifled a laugh, “I suppose should we ever find ourselves in need of crafting a hut, you will be best suited for it. It’s a wonder your insistent need to help every downtrodden person we come across hasn’t sent you to rooftops to patch up holes.”

He grinned at her, “Don’t tempt fate; I might just start looking for people who need roof repairs in the next village!” he teased and bumped his shoulder into hers. “Should you need a home built, I’d be happy to help, and for free, too.”

“Implying you’d have charged us otherwise?”

“Of course,” Elio chirped back, trying to hide his laughter. “Friends of Elio’s Carpentry get their work done, free of charge.”

She shook her head and looked at him fondly, making him feel all light inside. “I suppose once the Blight is over and you grow tired of being a Grey Warden, you’ve your next career all planned out,” she said, and her gaze flickered away to where Wynne and Leliana were, breaking free from the forest edge with their stock. “Ah, I see they have returned, and Leliana has even brought us our dinner. I suppose we’ll have to continue this conversation for another time.”

As reluctant as Elio was about it, Morrigan was right. Their time for a chat was done; he had to return to his work—it was his turn to cook, after all—and surely she would like to have time to give the treaties her undivided attention while she read. Something she wouldn’t be able to do if Elio hung around bothering her.

He shook his head and rose to his feet, feeling his joints and back pop as he did so. “All right then. You have fun with those; I’ll go get our food cooking.”

Morrigan nodded, looking up at him. He was about to say something when Elio leaned down to steal a quick, chaste kiss. He was then off, jogging towards the other women with a bubbling laughter before she could shove him away. Rejuvenated by his time with Morrigan, his earlier exhaustion was a distant memory.

Elio grinned as he glanced back at Morrigan and saw the faint blush of her cheeks in the setting sunlight.

#dragon age origins #Dragon Age #Warden #Morrigan #Elio Tabris

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smol-feralgremlin · 2 years

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FebruarOC Day 11: Kaz

Kaz breathed in and out easily, inhaling the scent of the musky incense that still lingered in the air despite the soft breeze that made its way into the tent, drinking it down deep into his lungs. Breathing used to be a struggle but he could now breathe without moisture clogging his throat to turn the most basic tasks of being alive and human into a fight for his life. The medicine workers among the group that his parents travelled with had driven the sickness from him after he’d collapsed at the edge of their encampment, weakened by his time travelling with little to no food and a sun that cruelly baked his skin to his bones.

“You appear to have recovered well.”

Kaz opened an eye as his mother, Al’Anira, came through the dark red fabric of his tent. “I feel better.”

“Good, good.” Al’Anira came and knelt in front of him. Kaz didn’t resist as she placed her calloused hands on either side of his face and placed her thumbs with the fresh scars on the tips to his cheekbones. Dark brown eyes permanently narrowed from life in the sun met his own silver-grey eyes, and her soft wrinkles deepened as she smiled and tilted his head. “It’ll take time to tell, but I think once you’ve gained more weight, you’ll look a lot like your father.”

“Where is he?”

Usually it was his father, Al’Charine who came to see him, almost every day in fact. It wasn’t that Kaz was unhappy to see his mother, quite the opposite, but she’d been absent for most of the time he’d spent recovering. He’d asked about her, but his father had merely told him it was the business of a select group of people.

“Hunting. We plan to move out soon, so we want to have more meat on hand. Others are foraging for what’s necessary. Tell me, I know the old songs mention you and yours won’t ride, but what about cart and wagon?”

“I can travel by cart or wagon or any other way if it’s necessary. We’re moving already?”

Al’Anira nodded before letting him go. Kaz found he missed her touch. He’d gone without touch for so long…

“Riders are already on their way to gather the other bands. We go to Kasiere and assemble to discuss important matters.”

“Such as?”

“War.” Al’Anira’s eyes sparked with battlelust. “Now that we have you, I will not let what the Serpent King did go unanswered. The Shilun have been peaceful nomads for so long, I doubt anyone remembers we are warriors as well and there used to be a time where the name Shilun was uttered with fear trickling down the bones of even the most staunch of sailors”

Kaz took Al’Anira’s hands in his own. Thin as his hands are, he somehow could cover her hands with his. “When I am stronger and can withstand doing so, I will draw the runes into my body as tradition asks. Then I can take my place properly as leader of the Kashir. For I am Al’Kazmeer, and I’m not the only one of my siblings who wants to avenge our lost years, our lost siblings, and our lost teachers. I can guide my siblings back home, to the Shilun. I think it’s time.”

“Al’Kazmeer,” his mother whispered. “You’ve named yourself in the customary way.”

A corner of his lips quirked up in a half smile. “I am your son, too.”

#februaroc #februaroc 2023 #writeblr #gremlin writing #Revenge of the Kashir #Kaz #he mostly goes by Kaz so this counts

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 2 years

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Thinking about the ask re: Grima and his Thieving Ways and went and found my bits of him being a Tiny Hoarding Dragon:

Gríma returns the stool to its correct spot by Théoden’s chair. On the low table, beside Éowyn’s embroidery, is a bowl of uneaten soup, an empty cup and a broach. Taking up the trinket, Gríma admires it in the low light of embers. Clearly dwarven craftsmanship and of some great age. He glances to Théoden, the door, the far corner where apparently lingers Théodred’s ghost, then pockets it.

Nodding to the open trunk Boromir asks what else is to be found. Secrets to spellcraft? Witches keep books on that sort of thing, he’s heard. Ingredients for secret potions?

‘No, though I wouldn’t have been surprised. There are just bits and pieces that have gone missing over the last year. Light fingers. He was always a bit like that, though.’ A flashed smile. ‘I asked him about it once.’

‘How did that go? He never struck me as a man who does direct questions.’

Éomer lets out a sharp laugh. ‘Gods no. Oh no. You have to circle around the point for ten minutes. What I got, in the end, was something about him liking objects because they won’t leave you.’

Boromir says an: ‘I see,’ then no more for there isn’t much else to add.

‘He never sold anything,’ Éomer muses, more to himself than Boromir. ‘He just kept it and organized it. According to value, I see. But still, he just kept them. My uncle’s sword was found in here, wrapped in a brocade cloak. What would you call that? A reverent theft?’

Taking out the slim box Éomer hands it over. Gríma accepts it, confused, then looks at it. The familiar design, the slight sheen of wood caught in firelight. His mother’s backgammon board.

‘Unless it’s more appropriate for your brother to have it,’ Éomer offers.

‘No,’ Gríma snaps, reflexively hugging it to his chest. ‘It’s mine.’

‘I thought someone might walk off with it so I, um.’

‘Walked off with it?’

‘For a time.’

‘I thank you, my lord.’

‘Right, well, it’s a family thing. Those are important.’

‘Sometimes.’

Éomer nods. That is true, it does depend on the situation. ‘Did your mother give it you for a special occasion?’

‘When I left home. Brynja and I were seventeen. We went south, also east, then back north again, for a time. Our mother said we would need something to do of an evening. And we could sell it, if things became desperate.’

‘I’m glad it never came to that.’

A smile slithers across Gríma’s face. ‘Oh no, my lord, we found other solutions to such troubles, whenever they arose.’

With subtle amusement, Éomer says that the less he knows the better. He doesn’t want to be party to Gríma’s legally questionable decisions.

‘Their legality was never questionable, my lord.'

‘You are aware that sentence can be taken several ways, right?'

‘I only ever seek to make myself useful and to diligently serve those for whom I work. And, as we all know, a man’s hard labour is always justly rewarded.’

Gríma loiters by the entrance until all have passed inside before he reaches over Baldor’s body and takes up the ancient signet ring of the House of Eorl. The bones of the never-to-be-king give it up without resistance. He also plucks up a necklace that is tangled around the neck. Its pendant is a stylized sun in the pattern of the old, nomadic tribes the Éotheod once were. Gríma slips both items into a saddle bag before he follows the Grey Company into the darkness of the Paths of the Dead.

Legolas visits as afternoon fades into evening. Gríma is reading a book he pilfered from someone’s bag figuring, as they were most probably dying, they wouldn’t miss it.

Gríma shoves the volume behind his back, tucking it into his belt where it can be hidden by his cloak. Denethor—well, Aragorn now—has many books. Neither will miss one or two. Three or four.

Oh Grima you weird little freak of a man.

#he makes a lot of changes in Swimming Through Fire #but the light fingered thieving remains #grima wormtongue #lotr #lord of the rings #writing #swimming through fire #eomer

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faarkas · 2 years

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🥞☕️💐🌌🏊 for baby beau please!!!

SWEET BABY BOBO

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

After the Accident I think they largely had to reconstruct his tongue so his taste buds are a little...funky to say the least. He ends up having to like, enjoy his food by texture and looking at it more than tasting it.

All that being said, I think he gravitates to pancakes with a crispy side of whatever meat they can fry up in the badlands. Also eggs but a Real egg is a RARE luxury and powdered egg substitutes just do not hit the spot as much as he wish they did.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

He prefers hot coffee, even in the summer. He takes it black. Stereotypical.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

GOD IDK I ALWAYS STRUGGLE WITH THIS QUESTION. I feel like...sunflowers. And succulents.

The sunflowers symbolize loyalty and adoration, the succulents are enduring and timeless love. Both I feel fit post-accident him despite his kinda rough grumpy exterior.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

I was like I want....blonde blue/grey eye man....that looks kinda serious and soulful...and is a nomad cowboy type...hmmm.... And then I made him and was like hes missing something.

*goes and creates his jaw and tragic backstory*

Perfect .

So cowboys, mr eastwood, etc etc . Stuff in that vein for inspo.

🏊 SWIMMING - can they swim? or are they afraid of water? how well do they swim? how do they feel about swimming in the ocean?

LOL HE SINKS LIKE A FUCKING STONEEEE. Someone teach him how to swim. But also maybe not idk how his cyberware would handle it.

Keep sweet baby beau away from water. he also does not really like water. Scares him. There's too much shit in the water that he does not want to know about tyvm

#beau jokingly threatening to eat chowder once a week while jade threatens him with a wrench. stay away from her gecko king.#hil.txt #ocstuff #oc: beau #THANK YOU EMILY MY DARLING

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doodlebugdraws · 6 months

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For Eternity - Prophecy Of Ruin

After being monarch for centuries, Gaia eventually grew numb to the cycles of the Sun and Moon. They rotated in and out perfectly, on their own. Such a perfect sequence, strong enough power only Gaia could break it.

So dawn and dusk and the times in-between were just how it was to the Queen. As it should be.

But something stirred deep inside of her since the night before when she fell into a slumber--the first time she slept in about a millennium, give or take. Something was changing.

And she promptly made out to get to the bottom of it. Which is why she was in a caravan with her closest guards in the dead of the night, as opposed to back in the castle corridors.

The stars seemed to glimmer exceptionally bright to Gaia tonight…or were they always that bright? Had she ever truly noticed?

It was as if the Queen's eyes were polished. And she was suddenly seeing her world for the very first time….

Gaia still hadn't decided if this was a good thing or bad thing.

"My Queen….your majesty?"

Ugh. She got distracted. Odd.

Gaia turned her long gaze quickly down to her advisor, who twitched at how spontaneous her attention shifted.

"Your majesty…." They composed themself, "we have arrived. It appears we have been….duped if you will."

"....elucidate."

The advisor gestured away from the group, toward a small dirty tent before them. They would've probably missed it if it weren't for the strange glowing orbs sitting in front of the tent.

"It appears to be a shabby nomad hut." The advisor scrunched their nose in distaste, "nothing they have to say could be of any importance t--yo-youR MAJESTY."

The advisor flailed their forelegs around in panic, not knowing what else to do. Queen Gaia had stepped away from her guards, and casually made her way toward the tent.

"It's too dangerous!! M-my queen please! They could be thieves!!!" they continued to blare.

"And I'm a deity with the power of a thousand armies," Gaia retorted calmly, not even glancing back at her subjects, "what could a little nomad do to me?"

The advisor shut their mouth tight, seeming a tad embarrassed, and stepped back.

"I won't be long."

Gaia lowered her head to push back the curtain to step inside.

----

It was a much different sight inside the tent.

In fact, it seemed a lot bigger. Even despite the clutter.

Fancy patterned tapestries, hoof-carved chests, bottles with shiny liquids, colorful bead curtains. Gaia had seen many wonders in her long, long lifetime, but she still chose to be intrigued.

And in the center of everything, stood a giant glossy blue orb on a dwarved table. She carefully tapped it once, and a swirl of pink aura fluttered away from her hoof.

Alchemy. Artificial magic created using specific combinations of supernatural herbs.

BOOM!

Clouds of pink glitter burst in front of the Queen, and she reacted steadfast with a makeshift aura shield.

"Ah-stounding!"

COUGH!

A hooded creature manifested in front of Gaia, but lost their dramatic flair as they forced themselves to hack and cough into their sleeve. The other arm swung out and batted the rest of the magic fumes away with a grey paw.

"You...hurgh...reacted amazingly fast! As I expected, of course, but still a wonderful sight to behold!" The creature withdrew their hood, revealing a feline face, with darker stripes and vibrant green eyes.

"An Abyssinian. You're quite far away from home, are you not?" Gaia questioned in curiosity. "Should I be wary of you?"

"If that makes you feel more comfortable!" The catfolk shrugged without a care. "My...your mane is more marvelous than what everyone says!"

"I know. Onto business; you sent a letter through the nearby barracks for me." Gaia stamped a hoof firmly to the ground to get to the point. "Tell me at once what this is all about. You were very cryptic."

"Oh yesyesyes of course, your Majesty!" The catfolk flicked their wrist whimsically. Gaia began to wonder if this actually was a joke.

They stepped up to the blue orb, and gestured for the Queen to do the same. They reached their paws around the orb to stimulate the pseudo-magic within.

"Forgive me. You pointed out the fact I'm an Abyssinian all the way out in the ponylands. I should explain.

"I have had prophetic dreams since I was old to open my eyes. Meager things normally. 'It's going to rain tomorrow!' 'Some fellow will steal bread from your shop!' I got good enough to start earning wages, but that's a story for another time.

"But one night that all changed."

The pseudo-magic began to swarm in a tangled bundle with the glass ball.

"I had the biggest dream….and I haven't a different dream since then. The same dream over and over. I knew I had to travel here and tell someone! Meaning you."

The bundle unraveled in a tap, and the clouds spread apart, to reveal an image.

"My Queen…..a terrible fate awaits you!"

Their voice changed to less friendly and more eerie and stern. Gaia flicked her ears in suspense.

"Your long-standing kingdom will succumb to the flames! The evil! And you will have to watch as it dies. Moon and Sun will fail to orbit, and the storm clouds will gather and not fade!

"A War is coming, My Queen! And you won't be the one to face it!

The room began to feel cold. Or was that just her…?

"It all ends...when the Seed Of Remorse is planted…"

…..

It's a good thing Gaia never needed sleep.

Because she vows to never rest again.

She turned around without another word, and calmly stepped out of the tent.

"Apologies."

Gaia stopped and flicked an ear at the prophet.

"I had to get the news to you….I know you know how to fix this. Whatever is to come. Yes?"

"....."

Without speaking, she completely stepped back into the moonlight. She turned to gaze at it.

She was grateful she didn't need sleep.

#doodle bug draws #doodletheexpoodle #my little pony #friendship is magic #queen gaia eve #equestria #ancient equestria #doodleverse #story #for eternity #alicorn

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onsunnyside · 2 years

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⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again.

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe.

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all.

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being.

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift.

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still.

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another.

Hopefully, one with him.

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head.

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last.

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.”

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map.

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive.

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.”

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.”

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried.

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant.

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved.

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done.

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well.

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on.

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.”

“I have clouds… in my eyes?”

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak.

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?”

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly.

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you.

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed.

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness.

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers.

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question.

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen.

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced.

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.”

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.”

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt.

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens.

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom.

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long.

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.”

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.”

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare.

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled.

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him.

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of.

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want.

That’s the difference between the two of you.

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips.

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin.

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.”

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old.

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire.

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe?

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you.

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away.

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet.

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless.

That’s why he loved it here.

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is.

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places.

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand.

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter.

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman.

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did.

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch.

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left.

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete.

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair.

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?”

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.”

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.”

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply.

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.”

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin.

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.”

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense.

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest.

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you.

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning.

It only made it harder to leave you.

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you.

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking.

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time.

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you.

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky.

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you.

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains.

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone.

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving”

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter.

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life.

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town.

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair.

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply.

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different.

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off.

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you.

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else.

This town was in your past, just like the rest.

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare.

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline.

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.”

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost.

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full.

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room.

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface.

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth.

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish.

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed.

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you.

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view.

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears.

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address.

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy.

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious.

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you.

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more.

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow.

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite.

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

1K notes · View notes

raindancer2004 · 3 years

Text

Love and Possession

Word Count: 3,403 Felix x reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Swearing

Possessive prompts for my boy Felix with 4,13,14 also if I could request that it ends fluffy 😅 you are blessing us with all these options ❤️ For @aquanova99

Felix met his mate by accident when she quite literally stumbled into his life whilst he was on a mission with Demetri. Demetri found it amusing when the Y/C haired girl crossed the secluded car park behind the nomads seeming not to notice five men standing off against each other. Felix got distracted the moment her scent hit him ‘Mate’ was the only thought running through his head. Demetri and Felix made quick work of dealing with the nomads before offering assistance to the girl as her car wouldn’t start.

“Do you need help miss?” Demetri asked approaching first as he looked less physically intimidating than Felix. “Only if you’re able to get my car started” She replied as she backed away a little as Felix slowly approached the two of them. Ten minutes later and Demetri had gotten the car started whilst Felix shamelessly flirted with the girl they now know as Y/N.

After a few months of long-distance dating Y/N moved into the castle to be with Felix and things did not go as she thought they would. Although she made friends with Demetri, Heidi, Corin and the twins, some of the other vampires in the castle seemed to hate her despite never speaking with her, Afton being one of those vampires.

Y/N also noticed how possessive Felix had become, especially since she moved in with him. The only male vampires he trusted around her beside the Kings were Demetri and Alec. So when he saw her to talking and laughing with Santiago and Matt Felix saw red. He ran straight at Matt the second his arm brushed against Y/N’s and punched him so hard in the face a section of it fell to the floor. “What the hell Felix?” Y/N asked shocked “He touched you” Felix growled “No he didn’t” She replied “I saw his arm brush yours not two moments ago” Felix replied and she noticed his eyes darkening a little. Y/N shook her head in disbelieve “So you punched him for that? For something I didn’t even feel?” “HE.TOUCHED.YOU” Felix growled out slowly, his eyes now a dark onyx colour. “Don’t question him Y/N” Santiago said low to her whilst not taking his eyes off Felix.

Felix kept Y/N in their shared room for two days after that incident, something Y/N resented him for. “I’m not a child Felix, I’m your mate and I don’t deserve to be locked away because I was talking to two other guards” “It wasn’t just talking though, was it? Matt touched you…” “BY ACCIDENT” Y/N shouted, cutting him off “DON’T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME” He shouted back “I’m an adult and I’ll do as I please. And I can shout at you whenever I like, especially when you shout at me” She replied, standing her ground.

Demetri was in his room which just so happened to be next to Felix’s and was smirking as he heard Y/N stand up to Felix although he was a little concerned of what Felix might do if she pushed him too far.

Felix and Y/N have good days when Felix’s possessive nature seems to be under control and she can move around the castle as much as she’d like, with the exception of ‘tourist day.’ This annoyed a few vampires as they didn’t think it was right that she was still human and that they had to stay away from her as she was not considered food although the secretaries were a ‘grey’ area.

Afton had hated Felix for as long as he could remember and found it amusing that the Volturi’s Executioner was given a human mate by fate. Afton couldn’t believe how much care and attention humans needed “I’m so glad I don’t have a human mate” Afton said to Santiago and Chelsea “I was already a vampire when I found you hunny!” Chelsea replied and Santiago laughed before speaking “Why do you have a problem with human mates?” “Humans need to be fed three times a day and need at least eight hours of sleep a day. Not to mention they need to be outside too or they get depressed, something about vitamin D” Afton responded and Chelsea shook her head at him “I’m so glad I met you after I was immortal, I’d hate to think how you would have been with me otherwise.” “What made you think about human mates?” Santiago asked, curious “I was thinking the other day how funny it is that the big bad Executioner has a human as his mate” Afton replied chuckling.

A few days later Felix returned from a mission to find that Y/N wasn’t in the library or their shared room “D, track Y/N for me” Demetri turned to look at Felix, an eyebrow raised “Please” Felix added and Demetri smiled and nodded “She’s on the roof…” “Thanks” Felix cut him off and began walking away “…With Afton?” Demetri’s voice changed as he questioned why she’d be with him.

Felix started running the moment Demetri mentioned Afton’s name and he took off running to the roof knowing that Felix was likely to kill Afton just being near Y/N. Demetri arrived seconds before Felix as he was faster and the sight before them shocked them both to their very core.

“You know Felix really should’ve turned you sooner, then you wouldn’t be so breakable…a pathetic, breakable little human” Afton had hold of Y/N’s neck and had lifted her up so her feet didn’t touch the floor. She was struggling to breathe as his grip got tighter, tears streamed down her face. Felix growled loudly and Afton just laughed and moved his arm so Y/N was dangling over the edge of the castle roof.

“Afton…” Demetri voice was firm but calm “…Don’t do anything stupid” “Stupid? How is ridding our dear Felix of this…pathetic excuse of a mate stupid?” Afton said mocking Felix. Felix growled at him and tried to work out how he could save his mate before Afton did indeed do something stupid. “He’ll kill you” Demetri replied “I’d like to see him try, I mean if he attacks me, I drop her and she’s dead…I doubt even you could save her before she hits the ground below” Afton countered smirking. Demetri growled this time, his eyes darkening as he moved closer to the edge of the roof just in case. “That’s far enough Demetri” Afton said grinning as shook his arm, moving Y/N side to side in the process.

Y/N’s muffled cries pulled Felix out of his thoughts and that was when he heard Matt’s voice “Come on Afton drop her. I’m curious what kills her first, the fall or the impact of hitting the ground.” Demetri looked over the edge to see Matt standing on the patio below, smiling. Before he could or say anything he heard Felix’s voice, the tone dark and menacing. “I haven’t made a promise in over 1000 years but I’m promising you this, if you harm one hair on their head, I will end you all. And I will do so smiling while I watch you burn” Felix growled at Afton, who thought for a moment before speaking “Ok, I won’t hurt her but…I won’t save her either…” He turned to look at Demetri who was now standing next to the roof’s edge “…That’s your job” With that Afton let her go and she screamed as she fell towards the ground below. Demetri didn’t hesitate, he dived after her and caught her in his arms “I’ve got you” They fell a bit further before he unwrapped one arm from around her and grabbed onto the railing of the balcony and pulled her up until she was able to grab hold of the railing too.

Meanwhile, back on the roof Felix lunged at Afton the second he let Y/N go and threw him against the wall, cracking it in the process. He wrapped his hand around his throat and lifted him off the floor. “If she dies, I’m going rip Chelsea apart slowly and then crush her to dust as you watch” He said low, a dangerous tone to his voice as his hand tightened around Afton’s neck. Afton just smirked at him despite his neck starting to crack under Felix’s large hand. “A-Aro will ne-never let y-you harm Chel-Chelsea” Afton struggled to speak “HE.WON’T.KNOW.ABOUT.IT” Felix growled out slowly.

“Felix, Demetri has her. She’s safe, she’s with him in his room” Alec’s voice called from the roof door “You sure?” “Yes, I’m sure. I was in his room returning a book when I heard a loud noise and a growl from outside. I opened the balcony doors to see Demetri and Y/N holding onto the balcony railing. I helped pull her up onto the balcony” “And Matt?” He asked, not releasing his hold on Afton “Jane went after him and I came to up here to tell you she’s safe” “FOR NOW” Afton growled out, smirking.

After the incident on the roof Felix’s protective nature towards Y/N bordered the line between protective and possessive, something she found smothering and a little scary at times. The man standing in front of her now was the not the same man she had fallen in love with all those months ago. He had killed three of the transitory guards in the space of a month because they had the ‘nerve’ to say hello to Y/N and ask how was after the roof incident. Felix had also started to keep Y/N confined to their room, insisting it was her own good when in reality it was so he could keep her away from other males in the castle.

“If Felix is still keeping you locked away in your room and treating you like you’re the one in the wrong, why are you still with him? You clearly aren’t happy” Gianna asked “He may not be perfect but he’s my mate and I choose him. I love him and I know he loves me” Y/N replied “Ok then. Let’s hope things get better” Gianna said with a smile.

Things didn’t get better between Y/N and Felix and she started feeling ‘trapped.’ She wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the male vampires that weren’t the Kings, Demetri or Alec and if he caught a male vampire near her, he’d start a fight with him that always ending in them missing limbs. After those fights, Y/N had to endure the rant that followed and that always resulted in her being told she wasn’t allowed out of her room for the next few days. Y/N found herself becoming scared of Felix and to be around Felix.

Felix had left the castle with Demetri and the twins for a week-long mission and Y/N found herself thinking about her mate, and their relationship and made a decision that she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She picked up her passport and some cash from her closet and made her way out of the castle. Noone stopped her as it wasn’t unusual for Y/N to leave the castle on shopping trips and the fact that it was ‘tour’ day helped too.

She had made it out of Volterra when she ran into a problem, Demetri stood on the other side of the road looking at her. She pleaded with him with her eyes alone and although part of him understood why she wanted to leave, he couldn’t let her. He crossed the road, his voice soft as he approached “There you are darling” He gently wrapped his arms around her in a hug “Please don’t make a scene. Come home with me” He whispered “Does-does he know?” She whispered back “Probably, seeing as he and the twins continued onto the castle. I told them I had picked up a tenor of someone I needed to talk to and came to get you” He replied as he took her small warm hand in his larger cold one. “Will he be angry?” “Do you really need to ask? You’re his mate” Demetri looked down at her and gave her a little smile.

They arrived back at the castle and Y/N expected to see Felix waiting for them at the entrance but he wasn’t there. “He’s in your shared room, waiting for you” Demetri told her “How did…” “Your heartbeat increased as we entered” He replied and she nodded “Of course.”

Demetri didn’t let go of her hand until they reached the door to Felix and Y/N’s room “Look who I found out in the city getting some fresh air” Demetri said smiling as they entered the room “Good trip Fe?” Y/N asked as she crossed the room to him. Felix nodded at Demetri, who stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, Y/N. Such a naïve little one. You really thought you did something here, didn’t you? Thinking you could leave me like this? Oh, dolcezza…think again” Felix’s ruby eyes had darkened due to his mood “What did you expect? Afton tried to kill me because of his hatred towards YOU! I’m supposed to be safe in my home and I don’t feel safe here. If I’m not going to be safe here, I don’t want to be here anymore” Felix noticed the tears building in the corner of her eyes and his gaze softened slightly “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re mine to love and protect. Always” Felix said and pulled her into his arms, holding her close “Then love me and protect me but don’t behave the way you have been as you scare me and have made me question if being with you is worth all this” Her reply low but honest. Felix was shocked to hear that his mate, the one true love of his life was scared of him and was questioning their relationship. He said nothing as he tightened his hold on her and kissed the top of her head, making a mental note to thank Demetri for bringing her back to him.

Felix noticed that Y/N was pulling away from him despite his promise to change his behaviour so he didn’t scare her. “I can’t lose her D. What do I do?” “I don’t know Fe, but I agree with her. She needs to feel safe here, whether you’re here or not. If you can’t protect her then what chance do the rest of us vamps have if our mates are human when we meet them?” Demetri replied, looking serious “If she leaves me D, she won’t come back” “I know Fe. You need to do better by her but for god’s sake don’t scare her.” Felix didn’t reply, he just sat there thinking. “I mean I did my bit Fe, I jumped off the roof to save her, risking my own life in the process” Demetri added “Oh poor you. At least we could have put you back together again had you hit the ground, Y/N wouldn’t have been that lucky” Felix replied, a hint of sass to his voice. “Did you just compare me to Humpty fucking Dumpty?” Demetri asked indignant “Maybe” Felix smirked “Prick” Demetri mumbled in response.

Chelsea, Santiago and Corin were in the family room when Felix entered “Ah just the vampires I’m looking for” Felix said as he entered the room and the three vampires looked up “How can we help you?” Chelsea asked “I need help. I need Y/N to be happy here…happy with me” Chelsea and Corin nodded in understanding “My gift won’t have much effect as the two of you are mates, I’m sorry” Chelsea explains softly. “Why do you keep the human around? She’s become distant with you and she has tried to leave you recently. You could choose someone else to spend forever with” Santiago asked Felix “She only tried to run from me because Afton tried to kill her but I will turn her and then she’s bound to me forever in every way that matters” Felix replied “I hope it works Felix” He replied. “I can help you, I can make her content, happy even with being here with you” Corin said with a smile “That would be good, I’m hoping after I turn her, she’ll be happy with me as she will feel the mate bond as strongly as I do now” Felix replied. “All we can do is hope that things will work out in the end. After all she was genuinely happy here once” Chelsea responded.

Chelsea was surprising civil, nice even to Y/N and Felix despite Afton being held and starved in the Volturi dungeon for three months “One more incident and I’ll end you myself” Caius warned him as he unlocked the cell he was in, before turning his attention to Chelsea and continuing “Being your mate won’t protect him anymore. He is useless and quite frankly I am beyond fed up with him” “I understand master” She replied with a nod of her head, knowing her mate was on his last chance.

A few days later Corin came to see Y/N telling her she wanted to catch up with her, which was only half true as she was there to help Y/N with her feelings towards Felix and being in the castle. Y/N knew something was off about Corin’s visit about half an hour after she arrived. “Don’t do that Corin, I thought we were friends” “Do what?” Corin asked feigning innocence “Don’t play dumb either, it’s not a good look for you” Corin nods at Y/N “Sorry, Felix is just worried that he’s losing you, that you’re not happy here anymore” “Look I love Felix more than anything and I always will but love isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, it’s tough. Real love takes work and both parties have to put in the effort in. I can’t help being scared of him when he’s in one of his moods. I’m human, I don’t stand a chance against him or anyone else here. Come on Corin and be honest with me, would you feel happy and safe after being thrown off the castle roof?” “No I wouldn’t. I’d probably feel as you do” She replied honestly “Then don’t come into my room and manipulate my feelings. I don’t deserve that” Corin understood where Y/N was coming from and apologised “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help my friends” “Then be a shoulder to cry on, someone to confide in, someone to give advice when needed. That is being a friend” Y/N replied and Corin nodded again, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a hug “I’m sorry.”

Felix returned to his and Y/N’s shared room to find Y/N sitting on the sofa reading. “How are you feeling?” He asked as he hung up his cloak “How should I be feeling, hmm? Happy, content, totally in love with you or all of the above?” Y/N’s reply shocking Felix “Yes, Corin popped by but didn’t do what you asked her to. She didn’t alter my feelings about being here or for you” She added. Felix struggled to respond “Y/N…I-I did-didn’t mean…” “Didn’t mean to ignore my feelings, didn’t mean not to deal with the situation and ensure that I feel safe?” “Y/N…I…” “I was thrown off the roof and caught by Demetri all because Afton hates you and yet you treat me like I’m the problem. Corin understands and has agreed that she would feel exactly like I do, had it been her in that situation” “I-I’m sorry. I was just trying to make you feel better” “Well don’t! I don’t like the way you tried to manipulate me. That isn’t fair and I would never do that to you” She replied, her voice thick with emotion. Felix stepped forward and took her into his arms “I love you so much and I just want you to feel safe in our home. I will love and protect you forever, no matter what.” He kissed her hair and tightened his hold on her.

A few minutes later, Y/N’s soft voice filled the room “Come on let’s cuddle in bed” “Yes, lets. You don’t have many nights left as a human” Felix replied “I know and it’s exciting and I fully intend to get back at Afton for his little stunt” “I would expect nothing less from my little newborn” He replied before capturing her lips in a loving kiss.

#felix volturi #demetri volturi #alec volturi #jane volturi #caius volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #heidi volturi #volturi #twilight

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

A Birthday Gift

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x fem-Reader

Word Count: 5665 (I know, I know)

Summary: The nomad crew have been holed up with you for months and tensions are high. Nat, being an unrepentant pot stirrer, decides to arrange a pleasant birthday surprise for you.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of consensual violence, SMUT! PORN! 18+!

A/N: Hello my fellow hoes and sluts! My birthday is today and it has me in some kind of mood, so I hunkered down and blasted out this fic. @stargazingfangirl18‘s lovely Tree Trimming fic has my holes quivering for some hot Nomad sex, so please sit back and enjoy my birthday present to all of you!

You had always hated your birthday.

Fortunately, Nat was completely willing to take your mind off it with a good sparring match. The snow was falling heavy outside of the large windows on the side of the gym, but the minor exertion was keeping you pleasantly warm. You’d been on the mat for almost an hour, but you still couldn’t seem to get your mind to focus.

Of course, it didn’t help when Rogers came in, glowering, to work the bags, giving you a wary look before he settled into his routine.

Nat and the rest of the team had been with you for almost 3 months now. When she had called you after the events in Berlin, to arrange a potential safehouse for her and her compatriots, you of course offered to have them join you at your isolated lodge on the Snæfellsnes peninsula. You were as off the grid as they come, and with the help of your Wakandan friends, still able to provide the modern creature comforts you were sure they had become accustomed to at the Avengers compound.

You had missed Nat, after all. It had been almost 7 years since you last saw her, but the grin she gave you when they landed in the early Autumn made it seem like she’d never left. You got to know everyone else over the months as well. Sam and you bonded quickly after you introduced him to Aquavit and spent the next 2 days helping him slowly move back to solid foods. Vision of course took everything that happened in stride, and while you couldn’t say you were friends, you had developed a mutual respect for each other. Wanda took longer to warm up (understandable after everything she had been through) but when you told her about the time you had spent in Sokovia, she quickly came out of her shell, and the two of you would often stay up through the night reminiscing about your homes. Even Barnes had softened once he got a look at your weapons room and you took it out to the Fjord to test out some next gen tech Shuri had sent you.

The only problem was Rogers.

No matter what you tried, it seemed that every time you got near him his hackles went up. You could feel him watching you constantly, and whenever you met his gaze, he would simply clench his jaw and stalk off like a cat.

“He’s just overprotective.” Nat always said. “He’s a big papa bear protecting his cubs. He’ll warm up.”

You snapped back to the present as Vis and Wanda wandered into the gym chatting idly. She had convinced him to join her out in the snow for a brisk hike, and was now laughing lightly as she brushed a dusting of soft flakes off his shoulders. Bucky was working his way down from the weights level, patting his neck dry with a towel. You heard the pounding on the bags stop, and glanced over to see Rogers unwrapping his hands as he stared at you, but this time he didn’t break eye contact when you met his gaze.

Those deep blue eyes disarmed you, and you lost your concentration for a split second. Nat seized her opportunity and crawled up your back, wrapping he legs around your neck and shoulders to try to get you into a submissive position. You tried to regain your composure, but your instincts kicked in for just a moment, and when you drove yourself back into the mat to break her hold, you landed quite a bit harder than you intended and thought you heard a snap as she gasped out in pain.

“Shit, Nat you good?” You scrambled onto your knees and looked at your friend with concern. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rogers striding over, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. Vis and Wanda stopped their conversation to glance over and Bucky moved quickly to intercept his best friend with a hand on his chest.

Nat broke the tension with a laugh, and everyone in the room relaxed. “God, Y/N, guess you’re still an aggro bitch. I though I might’ve had you for once.”

“Jesus, Nat. I’m sorry, lemme grab you some ice. Anything broken?”

“Don’t think so, just a bruised ego. Look at you, you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

You tossed a pack to her from the freezer, along with her typical post spar electrolyte drink. She gave you a wink as she pressed the pack to her ribs, and you could only shake your head at her.

“Steve, you wanna take over for me?” She said to the large man who was now leaning against one of the windows, only half listening as Barnes tried to distract him, while glaring at you.

You both snapped your heads around to stare at her and started protesting over each other while she grinned back and forth between you.

“That’s probably not a great idea…”

“Don’t want to hurt her…”

“Oh my god, you two are ridiculous. Y/N, you obviously still have to work out your birthday issues, and Steve, you’ve been complaining for the past 3 weeks that me and Buck are getting too predictable.”

“Y/N, it’s your birthday? We should bake you a cake!” Wanda exclaimed, always the little ray of sunshine.

“That’s ok Wand, please don’t.”

“Should we perhaps sing?” Vision was now adding his two cents to the discussion.

“No singing. Thank you, so much, for that, Nat.”

“She’s right Rogers, you’ve been looking pretty bored during our sessions, change of pace might be good for you.”

While you were eternally grateful to Bucky for getting the topic off of your birthday, you really didn’t think Rogers was going to go for this.

“Fine, we’ll give it a shot.”

You looked at him with surprise, but gave a shrug and nodded. You definitely still needed something to take your mind off the day. You loved Nat, but always felt the need to hold back during your sessions, and it might be nice to take the safety off.

Nat looked like the cat that ate the canary for some unknown reason, as she giggled and clapped her hands before setting down onto one of the stools to observe. Bucky looked relieved as he leaned back against the wall, chugging the contents of his water bottle. Wanda and Vis went back to their flirty conversation, content to let you two do your own thing.

You unzipped your hoody and threw it to the side, stretching your neck and bouncing on the balls of your feet to loosen up. Rogers looked you over, eyes lingering over your tattoos that you realized he’d never seen since most of them were easily covered by a long sleeve shirt. He pulled his own sweatshirt over his head, and you had a hard time not taking a second to appreciate just how good his torso looked in a simple grey tee.

“Jesus, you two, just get to it.”

The look you shot Nat was pure poison. You weren’t sure what her game was, but you’d be sure to break out the vodka later tonight and get it out of her.

You squared up with the captain, keeping a loose stance on the balls of your feet while he brought up his fists and shrugged his shoulders.

His first strike seemed sluggish, and you slapped it aside easily, frowning at him. He shuffled forward, throwing a few more jabs that you also dodged. Was he holding back on you?

The next few shots he tried to take all but confirmed it; he was pulling his punches. You ducked around them easily, starting to get frustrated. You stepped inside his reach and delivered three quick strikes to his abdomen, followed by an open-handed push to the center of his chest, causing him to take two steps backwards.

His eyes narrowed at you. He was just hoping to get Nat and Buck off his back. Nat had been trying to get him to interact with you for months, but there was something about you that set off warning bells in his head. He trusted Nat and Nat trusted you, which should have been good enough, but he couldn’t get over the thought that there was something dangerous about you that he couldn’t figure out. He’d hoped that a quick spar would appease Nat and get whatever was bugging him about you out of his system, but he had expected you to be on Nat’s level of physicality. The contemptuous way you slapped his blows aside, and the way you got under his guard fast, only made him more wary.

You saw him adjust his stance and tucked in his arms, and gave him a small smirk as you stepped back and raised your fists again.

He moved forward quickly this time, throwing a quick combo of punches aimed at your head and torso and trying to get his arms around you for a hold. You still dodged his strikes easily and when he tried to put you in a hold, you delivered a swift knee to the juncture of his waist on his left side, dancing back again.

His long hair had fallen into is eyes at this point, and when he straightened back up, the look of appraisal he gave was laced with frustration.

Your breathing was still even and relaxed, and Nat had been right, you hadn’t broken a sweat at all in the past 45 minutes. You loosely rolled one tattooed shoulder and gave him a grin, practically begging him to try again.

He clenched his jaw and rushed you. You kept dodging his blows or batting them aside but when he brought his foot around suddenly you moved a little too slow and felt it glance off your cheekbone. He took advantage of your brief surprise and moved behind you whip fast, wrapping one arm around your neck as he braced the other around your right shoulder and he tried to force you to the ground. You sprung your legs off the mat, raising them above your waist before swinging them back down as you got your left hand behind his head and grabbed the back of his tee, then used your momentum to fling him over your shoulders and toss him 15 feet across the room.

He shot up fast and turned back to with a look of complete shock on his face as he crouched into a protective stance. He stared at you like that for a beat before clenching his jaw and straightening up, rolling his head to right.

You followed his line of sight, perplexed. Bucky had jolted off of the wall and looked ready for a fight, flicking his gaze between you and Rogers. Wanda was staring at you with surprise, but was still relaxed. Vis looked at everyone around the room in confusion, trying to understand where the sudden tension had come from. The only person who seemed unfazed by what happened was Nat, all doe eyed innocence as she sipped her drink, not making eye contact with you or Rogers.

Poor Sam chose this moment to wander in. “Hey, Y/N, I heard it’s your b-day. You ready for me to drink you under… What happened?”

“Fuck’s sake Nat, you didn’t tell them.” You hissed at her.

“It didn’t really seem important, Y/N. Besides, it’s your secret.”

“Not a secret Nat. Jesus.”

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck I missed?” Sam was still flicking his gaze around the room, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Y/N just threw Steve across the room like a ragdoll.” Bucky said.

“Oh, word? Interesting.” Sam said.

“Someone want to explain this situation to me, slowly?” Rogers was looking murderously between you and Nat, and you honestly could have killed her yourself.

“Oh, did everyone not know about Y/N’s brain implants?”

All of you looked at Vision when he piped up, and he got a grin on his face like he had just solved an especially difficult puzzle.

“Baby, I think it’s safe to say only you and Nat knew.” Wanda whispered to him.

“But wasn’t that why we came here? Y/N has been hiding from multiple governments for years and her expertise has been very helpful in shielding us from both the United Nations and Stark industries.”

“Yeah, honey, just assume that you’re the only one who knows what you’re talking about.” Wanda said exasperatedly.

“Oh, well then, Y/N was part of an experimental program run by HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD during the 1990s where adolescents received brain implants designed by Dr. Emil Zola to increase sensory perception, decrease pain receptors, and specifically, maximize the efficiency of fast twitch muscle fibers via the phosphagen system, allowing use of these muscles for longer periods of time without negative effects. This was of course after multiple failed trials with a new super soldier serum.

“The program’s graduates were deployed at the beginning of the second Gulf War, purportedly to hunt terrorists, but were also used as HYDRA’s own assassination squad in the eastern hemisphere. The program was discontinued at the end of 2007 and it was thought that all the graduates were culled, but Y/N simply disappeared on mission at the Wakandan border. I admit, I was a bit surprised when she greeted us as she’s presumed dead by most intelligence agencies, but I thought her history was the reason we chose this location. Did I miss anything?” Vis looked at you with genuine interest.

“No that’s pretty much it, thanks.” You said flatly, running a hand over your face.

“See, not that big of a deal.” Nat shrugged.

“Well, Vis and I are going to head to bed.” Wanda chirped up, looking nervously between you, Nat, and the two super soldiers who were now staring at you again. She ushered Vision out of the room quickly and shushed him as he tried to ask if he had done something wrong.

“You really didn’t think this is something I might have wanted to know Nat?” Steve had now turned his attention back to your friend, murder written all over his face.

“No, Steve. Like I said, this is Y/N’s business and it changes literally nothing about how much I trust her. I can’t help it that you got your panties in a bunch over some perceived threat when I told you over and over again that I would willingly put my life in her hands in any situation.”

“You should have told them Nat.” You shook your head at her. She was still playing some sort of game, you could tell, but you didn’t know what.

“Ok, fine, I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you wanted the drama, or to have Barnes look at you like some little lost lamb.”

“Aw geez, Buck, stop looking at me like that or I’m going to punch you. I’m fine.”

“Ahm, sorry.” Bucky’s look of overwhelming sympathy would have been heartbreaking if it had been directed at anybody but you, and you really couldn’t handle that right now. “I’m here to talk if you ever need it.”

“Thanks, Barnes.”

“Besides, you and Steve are both in desperate need of a good fuck, and I thought an impromptu discovery like this would give you the push you need.”

And there it was.

“Well, I’m going to have to make it a rain check on those birthday drinks Y/N, look at the time, it’s… 6 PM. Let’s go Barnes.” Sam was now looking everywhere except at you and Rogers as he did his best to drag Bucky, who was doubled over crying with laughter, out of the gym.

You and Steve glared at Nat as she just sat there grinning, looking overly pleased with herself. A flush was creeping up Rogers neck as his fists tightened and loosened. You could see his jaw clenching under his beard and the tendons on his neck stand out in a look of absolute fury.

“You are such a meddling bitch, Romanoff.” You growled at her. Sure, it had been a while, but you were plenty capable of taking care of yourself, which you had told her after she plied you with three bottles of good Russian vodka.

“Yep.” She hopped off her stool and tossed her ice pack into the freezer. “I’m gonna leave you two to it. Talk, fight, fuck, do something. Your sexual tension is bringing down the vibe.”

She easily dodged the kettle bell you lobbed at her head with a laugh as she scurried out of the gym, closing the door behind her.

After about a minute of uncomfortable silence, you and Rogers turned back to each other. His face was no longer bright red as he looked at you, but you noticed something new in his gaze. His pupils were dilated as he peered at you through the hair that had fallen into his eyes. His breathing was deeper as he stepped closer and looked down at you. You were quite a bit taller than Nat, but still only came up to his eyes. He had moved his gaze to your chest, which was rising and falling in a slightly faster rhythm as he took you in, before moving it to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“Wanna talk?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Fight?”

“OK.”

You both took several steps back, retreating to your corners. Some unspoken agreement passed between you and Steve ripped off his t-shirt and sweatpants, until he was down to only his boxer briefs. You removed your sweats as well until you stood there in your sports bra and boy shorts. Neither of you examined whether you were doing this to increase your range of motion or for some other, hungrier reason.

You gazed at each other for a beat, drinking each other in. Steve rolled his broad shoulders and neck, bending from side to side briefly as you watched the muscles in his abdomen tighten and relax as he stretched. You reached your arms over your head before folding yourself over to wrap your arms around the backs of your thighs, twisting yourself to loosen your back muscles and feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

After straightening back up, you each gave each other a swift nod then rushed forward wordlessly.

You managed to gain the upper hand first when you vaulted over him as he dove at you, wrapping one arm around his throat as you carried your momentum and brought him to the ground, coiling your legs around his torso like a snake and stretching his right arm out with yours, pinning it in place.

He reached his left arm over his shoulder and punched you in the face.

You let go of him with a grunt and rolled up quickly, but he was able to get behind you and grabbed your left wrist with his right hand, hauling you over his shoulder while his left arm wrapped around your thigh and he drove you backwards into the mat, knocking the air out of your lungs before rolling over to try to pin you.

You got one leg between the two of you and drove your foot into the center of his chest, sending him flying across the room to crash into the free weights. You didn’t give him a chance to recover before charging back into him driving a fist into first his ribs, then his hip and causing him to buckle over before you wrapped one knee around his chest and rolled forward, slamming him into the ground so hard the floor cracked as you went to straddle him.

He caught your knee and carried you into a kneeling position before throwing you into the sandbags with enough force to knock one loose. You landed heavily and grabbed a kettle bell, whipping at him. He barely dodged it as he covered his head and it glanced off his forearm, giving you enough time to rush forward.

He caught you in the center of the mat and twisted you over him until you were pinned; one of your wrists in each of his hands above your head, legs wrapped around your thighs forcing them apart as he pressed his whole body weight into you.

You stopped struggling finally and stared up at him. You both were breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Steve’s hair was falling into his eyes, which were now lust blown as he stared at your lips. You could feel the muscles in his torso twitching against you as he held you in place.

He suddenly released your wrists without a word, and brought one hand behind your head to pull your mouth to his hungrily. His tongue ran along your lower lip and you opened yourself up to him, sighing into his mouth.

His other hand worked its way down your back as his legs loosened their hold on yours and he pressed your hips into his. You felt him start to grind his hardened cock into your mound and let out a low moan. He growled into your lips before releasing your head and started to kiss and bite his way down your neck, drawing soft whimpers from you as he did.

When he reached the tops of your breasts he pulled away from you suddenly to skim one hand up your abdomen before hooking three fingers under the edge of your sports bra and slowly drawing it over your head, eyes boring into yours as he did so. Once his obstacle had been removed, he nuzzled his face into the valley between your tits before gently sucking a bruise there as his beard scratched against your skin. He then moved his mouth to first your right nipple, then your left; rolling them between his teeth and tongue as you pressed your chest further into his face with a gasp.

He continued his downward journey, dipping his tongue into your navel before he reached the top of your shorts. He slowly drew them down your thighs and off until you were laying underneath him, fully bare and wanton, your cunt clenching around nothing as he stared up at you, resting his chin on your lower abdomen as his eyes asked you a silent question and you nodded, almost imperceptibly.

He drew your knees over his shoulders and pulled you down until his beard was flush against your mound. He nuzzled into the soft hair there before kissing the inside of your thighs slowly, his beard scratching the soft skin there as he gently ran the edge of his teeth up to your juncture then back down at an agonizingly slow pace. When you felt him breathe against your entrance, you wrapped one hand in his hair and moaned, and when his tongue found your clit you screamed and arched your back into him.

His tongue slowly circled your clit as he brought up his right hand and brushed his pointer and middle fingers through your arousal slowly, before inserting one finger into your pussy at a deliciously slow pace. You felt him smile against you as you moaned, wrapping your thighs around his neck as he moved in and out, curling his finger against that soft, spongy spot over and over again before adding another finger.

His tongue had stopped drawing it’s slow circles and was now pressing and releasing against you at faster intervals, causing your breath to hitch in your chest as you writhed against his face. He held a third finger at the edge of your entrance and when you pressed yourself into it, he inserted it into your canal, stretching you so good you let out a thin whine. He shook his head back and forth quickly but gently, adding a brand new sensation before he began to suck on your clit.

All the breath rushed out of you at once as you brought your second hand to press his head further into you. His fingers were fucking into you fast now and you felt the tension in your abdomen building as he alternated between sucking and licking at the small bundle of nerves. When he finally latched on, at the same time he curled all three fingers against your g-spot, you came apart around him, screaming his name as your thighs wrapped around his head like a vise as every muscle in your back tightened, thrusting your torso off the mat violently before you sank back down, relaxing as Steve helped you ride it out.

His name was the first thing either of you had said in almost 15 minutes, and he didn’t want to break the silence now. He was afraid if either of you spoke, you’d break the spell that seemed to have settled over you. Instead of saying anything, he gently pulled you down until you were straddling his waist, then nuzzled his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder before resting his forehead on yours and staring into your eyes.

You looked back at him, blinking slowly as you moved your hands down to his hips and slipping your fingers under the edge of his boxer briefs. You slipped them over his hips slowly, and you felt his legs shifting in between yours as he moved himself to help you remove them, never breaking eye contact with you. You matched each other’s breathing as he shifted his hips and lined himself up at your entrance, his eyes giving you a pleading look. You shifted your hips closer to him, and he slowly breached you with his tip, closing his eyes as he did so and letting out a low moan from the back of his throat. He started thrusting into you slowly, trying not to collapse on top of you as he held himself back.

You brought your face up to his and slowly kissed him, gently drawing your tongue along the outside of his lips. The hand you didn’t have buried in his hair moved to his lower back and pressed him into you further, and you softly whispered against his mouth “Please…”

He let out a feral growl and settled his full weight on top of you as his hands moved from their supportive positions. One moved underneath you to hold you against him as he fucked into you fast, the other buried itself in your hair as he wrenched your head back and ran his teeth over your throat, nipping at the small hollow at its base. His hand on your back tilted your hips so each drive of his brought him flush against your clit, and you started breathlessly whimpering as he drove into you at a punishing speed.

Your second orgasm came almost without warning. You felt yourself flutter around him one moment when he suddenly tilted your hips just right and you were seeing stars, your body spasming as an uncontrollable wave of pleasure crashed over you repeatedly.

Steve still wasn’t finished though. He gave you a kiss like a starving man before pulling out of you suddenly. You groaned at the loss before he flipped you over fast and slammed back into you, causing you to let out a cry as his tip kissed your cervix.

He maneuvered you into the position he wanted quickly; one knee hooked over his leg and brought up close to your side with your other leg stretched behind you. He brought one arm underneath you to wrap a massive hand around your throat while the other tangled itself in your hair and drew your head back enough for him to kiss you hard, shoving his tongue down your throat as he continued to drive into you.

You had another orgasm almost immediately. Your pussy was fluttering and clenching like crazy as your body almost vibrated with pleasure. Steve still wasn’t slowing down and you were having so much trouble catching your breath you were worried you were going to pass out. You couldn’t stop driving your hips back into him though, matching his pace and feeling the tension in your core begin to gather again. You rolled your eyes back in your head and let out a thin whimper as you moved a hand between your thighs, trying to gain some sort of control over your own pleasure before your brain short-circuited.

Steve ripped your fingers from your throbbing clit with a growl and replaced them with his own, drawing harsh circles around the overstimulated bundle as you gasped and whimpered. He moved the hand he had at your throat to cup your chin, and tugged at your bottom lip with his thumb. You opened your mouth to gently nip at the rough pad as you felt his hips start to stutter, and he when he bit into your shoulder harshly you let out a scream and came apart violently, shaking underneath him uncontrollably.

His own release was right behind yours, and you felt his hot spend coating your insides as you fluttered around him and he wordlessly roared into your ear. He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he moved his hand from your face to softly cup your breast, lazily rolling one nipple in between his fingers and you came down from your respective highs.

You felt him softening inside you as you started to untangle yourselves. He slowly pulled out and you let out a small sigh at the loss of him. You heard him groan as he caught the sight of his cum slowly leaking out of your swollen cunt, and he left a slow trail of kisses down your spine before gently turning you over.

You wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled your face up to his, kissing him deeply as your other hand trailed through the hair on his chest before coming to rest on his abdomen. He rested his forehead against yours again as you both got your breathing under control, before he broke out in an absolutely sinful grin.

You both started laughing then, the previous tension completely broken as you buried your face in his neck and he held you close to him, shaking with laughter.

“Oh my god, I really did need a good fuck.” You said breathlessly, tears leaking down your cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’d say we shouldn’t give Nat the satisfaction of knowing she’s right but I doubt she wasn’t listening in this whole time.”

“Jesus, of course she was. She’ll never stop meddling now.”

He grunted in agreement before giving you a brief kiss to the top of your head, then you separated yourselves to stumble around and locate your clothes.

The gym was an absolute wreck. Aside from the crack in the floor, the weight racks had fallen over in a domino effect after you had kicked Steve into one and two of the sandbags were leaking everywhere.

You were both covered in bruises from the sparring session and the stiffness you always felt after overexertion seemed to have multiplied tenfold as you struggled to pull your sweats back on, groaning at how tight your muscles were. Steve seemed to be feeling it as well as he let out a hiss through his teeth when he pulled his sweatshirt back over his head.

Once you were both dressed, he stalked over to you like a cat and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you in for one more kiss.

“Guess we should go face the rest of them.” He said, resigned.

You groaned as he dragged you out of the gym, hand in hand, to endure what you were sure was going to be a chorus of cat calls and innuendos, but when the two of you arrived in the living area, it was just Nat curled up on the sofa, giving the two of you a satisfied smirk.

“Where is everyone?” You asked her, looking around to see if maybe they had moved into the kitchen.

Nat threw back her head and laughed. “Oh they all ran out into the snow once you two really got started. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as embarrassed as Bucky did in my entire life. He forgot his shoes.” She was crying with laughter.

“Outside, Nat, it’s freezing out there!” The sun had already gone down with how late in the year it was and once that happened, the temperature would drop severely.

“I told them but they couldn’t handle it. Bunch of prudes.”

“Yeah, while you sat here and listened, you pervert.” You and Steve started pulling on boots and coats to head out after them.

“I’m the pervert! While you two had the world’s loudest fuckfest less than 20 feet away from the rest of your housemates, hey!” You had thrown her coat at her face and she caught it to shrug around her shoulders. “They probably had to go out five miles before they weren’t able to hear you.”

Steve growled at her as he ripped the front door open and headed out with you on his heels.

“Oh, you’re welcome by the way! It sure would be nice to get some appreciation for your birthday gift, Y/N… shit.”

Steve had lobbed a snowball the size of a golden retriever at her that she barely dodged at the last minute, cursing under her breath.

Steve wrapped an arm around you as you headed out into the fields to find your poor housemates and apologize, nuzzling himself into your hair with a grin. “Happy birthday.” He murmured to you, giving you a quick kiss before ruining the moment by bellowing “Barnes, get your dumbass back here, you forgot your boots!”

You grinned at him, looking up at the sky where the borealis had started and thinking that maybe birthdays weren’t so bad after all.

#chris evans smut #smut #steve rogers #nomad steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #writing

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superhero--imagines · 4 years

Text

Part 12

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here!

* You stare at the blank ceiling, the smooth unblemished surface like freshly fallen snow

* you should really put some nudie posters up there or something to lighten the mood a little.

* Light notes from the piano float around your room

* You sigh, so these are the facts as you know them:

* Edward is your best friend who has occasional bouts of brooding and flirtatious behavior.

* Bella is not albino, she has a lovely peach undertone, and a lovely grilled peach scent

* The entire coven has treated your attraction to this young lady’s blood like you got caught masturbating or wetting the bed or something

* “You don’t need to be embarrassed it’s a perfectly natural feeling.” Esme tells you while rubbing your shoulders

* “We’ve all been there” Rosalie reassures

* “Totally not a big deal, it happens to me everyday!” Jasper chimes in

* You wish sunlight hurt you so you could combust into flames on the spot

* The piano notes get louder, and you feel your mouth pinch into a frown.

* “Oh my god Edward! Read the room, I want brooding music!”

* Edward stops, up until then he had been playing a pretty cheerful Mozart piece

* You can tell he wants to ask why, you’ve been radiating joy non-stop since biology. But he decides against it

* “You really shouldn’t eat lying down.” He says as you sip blood while lying flat on your bed.

* “Okay dad.” You snort

* Edward starts to imagine what it would be like if you called him ‘daddy’

* All needy on top of him, your hands curled in fists against his chest, the breathy “daddy please” that leaves your mouth

* All of a sudden he’s ugly turned on

* “Ugh you’re no fun, I’m going to hang out with Rosalie”

* You leave the room and Edward has a total meltdown, is this what a kink is? Is he discovering a kink?!? At 100 years of age?!?!?!?

* Edward.exe is broken

* You don’t even make it to Rosalie’s room, you can smell them a mile away

* Broccoli, sugar and fat, and axe body spray. No peaches you realize with a sigh.

* They’ve only just barely rung the door bell when you open the door

* “Hey what are you guys doing here?”

* Jessica’s standing in front, looking pretty at ease, while Mike and Angela look equally uncomfortable.

* Makes sense, Jessica’s here all the time now either for homework or to watch TV.

* Mike and Angela haven’t been back since your sweet sixteen

* “How did you get down here so fast?”

* “I saw your car from upstairs” you say with a sheepish smile.

* You wish Alice would have given you a heads up, you weren’t planning on pretending to be human right now. Still you probably look raggedy enough right now in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt

* You can probably pull this sick thing off

* “We just wanted to check up on you, I heard from Mike and Angela you got sick during class.” And then in a more annoyed tone Jessica adds “And I guess you’re too sick to respond to all my texts and calls”

* Oh crap, where is your phone.

* You pat your pockets, and think when you saw it last

* “I left it in my locker” you smack your head. You told Edward to go grab your bag from class but you forgot your phone.

* “Hey don’t worry about it, I can get it for you tomorrow if you want.” Jessica rushes to your side and pats your arm. You shake your head

* “No I can get it myself, I’m fine I just ate something bad.” You mumble.

* You’re not missing school tomorrow. You would literally risk murder to smell Bella again.

* It’s not insatiable thirst like described in the books, more like a craving, like someone might have for nachos.

* It itches at you for a while, but if you just distract yourself long enough you can move on

* “Would you like to come in? I think Esme just baked cookies or scones or something.”

* Esme likes to bake for the smell and donate the food to the local shelter. That, or take it for her employees at her architectural firm in town.

* Firm is a loose word, she has maybe four employees, and they get one job a month, but it seems to make her happy.

* Angela and Mike give each other looks but Jessica perks up

* “Is she making those delicious earl grey scones again?” You sniff the air

* “I think she made some of that orange zest butter too”

* “Omg I am so happy you left your phone at school” Jessica giggles walking inside past you, you hear her greet Esme with a squeal

* “They really are good.” You tell them and your remaining human friends enter the house carefully

* “Soooo where is everyone?” Mike asks taking a look around your living room.

* “Ummm Rosalie’s in the garage, Alice is probably meditating on the roof, Emmett’s at swim practice, and Jasper’s probably at the barn.”

* “What about Edward?” Angela asks before Mike can ask about the barn

* Last you saw him he was playing the piano in your room, but it’s been a while since then

* “He’s probably in his room monologuing about the degradation of the American dream or something.”

* You lead them into the kitchen where Esme and Jessica are already deep in conversation about the wonder of her baking

* “-side is so light and fluffy, how do you get the tea flavor though”

* “Witchcraft.” Esme jokes, giving a full smile before putting another tray in the oven. Only Jessica laughs, the other two are too nervous to even sit down

* “Why don’t I teach you how when you come over next week.”

* Yeah you’re pretty sure Jessica is really only a fan of the “eating” and not of the “baking”

* You’re half surprised when she seems happy at the invitation.

* “Oh that sounds great, I can’t wait for it!” Jessica’s practically beaming

* Where’s Edward when you need him? You wonder what her motivations are.

* Jasper is not going to like this. He’s already irritated enough that he’s kicked out of his own house every Friday when Jessica comes over to watch arrested development

* Before you can say anything to Esme the conversation moves forward

* “Did you guys hear about that security guard that died in Mason county?”

* She’s just making small talk, you know that. But you and Esme instantly tense at the mention

* Carlisle had mentioned he thought there was a nomad wandering through, they were still far enough not to cause the coven immediate trouble, but anything that brought more attention to them was a disadvantage

* “My Dad says he heard from Chief Swan it was probably a wild animal attack” Mike mumbles over a bite of scone, you figured he would be the easiest to win over with food

* You hide a smile behind your hand, he really is like a golden retriever

* “What kind of a wild animal climbs stairs into a building” Jessica mumbles over another bite of scone. And maybe to fit in, or maybe because she’s always been a nervous eater, Angela takes a bite too.

* “Oh wow, these are really good” she murmurs

* Esme Cullen ladies and gentleman, winning the hearts of teenagers with baked goods since 19XX

* “Well you kids stay safe, stay together if you can.” She pats your head and you nod.

* You don’t know the details of the attack, you get the feeling Carlisle still see’s you as a kid and he doesn’t want to burden you.

* But assuming the small changes that have happened have nothing to do with the large changes, that means Laurent, James and Victoria will be passing through soon.

* Maybe it’s for the best Bella doesn’t get involved with Edward until later.

* You’d really like to not get all mixed up in the whole “James Thing” if you can help it.

* “Are you staying for dinner? I’m thinking of whipping up some pasta, maybe a chicken?” Esme looks to you, yeah you have no idea how she’s going to manage that. Besides the baking basics there’s no actually food in this kitchen. And the one upstairs is just for your blood bags.

* “(Y/N), do you think...Carlisle would mind if we used one of... his chickens?”

* His chickens? The only chickens in the house-

* “No Esme! My chickens are only for love and chicken snuggles” and their blood which tastes very leans yet rich. “Not to eat!”

* “It would just be one-we’ll eat your least favorite!”

* You’re really hoping this is her way of chasing the humans out because she doesn’t want to cook.

* “No- oh my god- we’re going to the diner come on!” You say tugging Jessica and Angela to stand.

* “It was great seeing you again Mrs. Cullen, see you next week!” Jessica shouts as the three of them follow you out.

* “Going out? Is that such a good idea it’s late and a school night.” Edward says as he descends down the stairs

* “Oh my god, yes Dad I’ll be home before my curfew.” You say before leaving, cue Edward crumbling onto the stairs as he imagines you calling him “daddy” again

* “I’m going to hell, I’m definitely going to hell.” He mumbles, his face in his hand.

* It’s a really short drive to the diner, also known as the only place to eat in Forks in the mid 2000’s.

*There’s not even a McDonald’s. It’s almost sad

* And when you get there, while everyone moves ahead to the table you see a familiar face.

* “Oh, Hey Bella”

* Your eyes met and you figured it would be rude not to say anything. It looks like she’s here having dinner with her Dad.

*She really does look like her dad, same eyes, same cheekbones.

* “Nice to see you again Chief Swan”

* “Nice to see you too, how’s Carlisle doing? Heard it’s been busy at the hospital.”

* “Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t sleep anymore.” You grin at your own joke.

* “Are you feeling alright now?” Bella asks, she looks genuinely concerned

* “Yeah, I um, made some questionable food choices at lunch.”

* There’s an awkward moment of silence. You get the impression that Chief Swan and his daughter are both the “strong silent” types.

* It looks like they’ve both finished eating already

* If you had known she was going to be here you would have made Edward come with you.

* “Oh hey, do you want to join us for dinner?” It just seems like the friendly thing to do for the new girl, something on-brand with human character

* Definitely not because if you get on her good side now, maybe she won’t kick you out once her and Edward get married.

*Father and daughter exchange a glance and the familiar connection they have makes you nervous.

*“Of course you don’t have to, I know you’re here with your dad so-“

* “I’m sure Bella would love to join-“ Charlie says at the same time Bella says:

* “Wouldn’t it be kind of weird since I already ate.”

* Ah, so they’re not as in sync as you thought.

* You give your best “Golden Girl - You can totally trust me with your daughter” smile.

* “I’m actually not eating either,” you place a hand over your stomach like a human might. “The uh, Clam Linguine is still haunting me, so I’m sticking to broth and sprite.”

* Why did you say Clam? You don’t even eat meat, it’s how you’ve been getting away with eating so little at lunch.

* “not a lot of vegetarian choices” You say to your human friends who nod solemnly.

* Father and Daughter exchange another look likening telepathic communication and they both move to stand

* “I’m going to finish up some paperwork at the precinct, don’t stay out to late.” Charlie says, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the forehead

* You watch with warm eyes and a small smile twitching onto your lips

* Bella is so loved.

* You can’t believe she’s willing to break her dad’s heart just so she can be 19 forever.

* Which, as you are 19 forever, you can fairly say is overrated

* “Hey guys Bella’s joining us.”

* Your female friends offer her a polite smile, you see Angela gaze flick from the menu to Bella’s face. Silently calculating the worth of this opportunity

* Any intel on this new girl would be pretty valuable

* Same old Angela

* Mike sits up straight so fast that he actually knocks his silverware off the table.

* “H-hey Bella, Hi, w-what, what are you doing here?”

* “Eating.” Bella says it so bluntly that you can’t help but laugh.

* Mike flushes bright red and Jessica and Angela exchange a look before giggling.

* “I thought it would be cool if she came over since I didn’t get to talk to her much.” You take a seat next to Jessica and Bella follows by taking the last seat between you and Mike.

* You still catch whiffs of her scent her and there, especially when she’s sitting so close to you.

* But it’s not so bad, the peachy smell is making you a little lightheaded, but you can handle it.

* At least you’re not fantascizing about killing her and everyone in this room like a certain dork you know.

* “Do you guys want to do that promotion where we get the basket of fries for the table?” Jessica asks

* “I don’t like sharing fries with Mike he eats them all.” Angela mumbles

* Yeah you remember last time when after a football game the three of them actually sat down and divided the plate in three equal portions

* They even measured out each fry dividing up the extra long ones

* “Says the person who basically eats ketchup with a spoon.” Mike retorts and Angela scoffs

* “It’s America’s best condiment for a reason Mike.” Angela snaps back

* “I think we’re getting off track, I say Mike buys us all french fries to make up for all the times he hogged the joint basket” Jessica’s teasing but Mike takes it seriously

* “What so I’m a French fry monster now?”

* “Yes” Both Angela and Jessica respond in unison without looking up from their menu cards

* “What do you think Bella?” You’re surprised that Jessica’s the one asking. You get the feeling she’s not very happy about Mike’s crush on Bella.

* “I think Mike should buy everyone their own basket since he has such a bad history with sharing.”

* “You traitor!” Mike mocks hurt and you all laugh.

* You look at Bella through the corner of your eye, maybe it’s just the lighting but she looks pinker when she’s laughing.

* She looks happy as she starts contributing to the conversation.

* “I will say the pie here is really good, I wouldn’t share even if someone paid me to.”

* “Omg yes, the cheery icebox pie is out of this world” Jessica responds

* “I’m partial to chess pie” Mike pipes in and Angela laughs

* “You guys are crazy, the fruit custard they make is the best”

* You grin as your four new friends argue about the superior dessert, watching Bella laugh beside you.

* Welcome to team human Bella

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward and bella #bella swan x reader #Bella x reader #bella swan #Jessica Stanley x reader #mike newton #angela weber #midnight sun #superhero--imagines

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