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purpleillusn · 1 year

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Echoes of the Stars - Danny Phantom x Warframe crossover

Also posted to AO3 here.

Summary: Looking to the void and seeing what has been lost, hand in hand with those who remember.

Word count: 1183

Phantom zipped through the battlefield, propelled forward by his itzal archwing, narrowly dodging a chunk of rock as he swooped in on the final enemy fighter in the sector: an unfortunate flak craft. Its pilot barely had time to see him coming before his kaszas scythe tore through their frail ship, leaving them to bleed into the void of space. Cephalon Cy chimed in on his comms, confirming that that had been the last of them. Phantom gazed out into his surroundings, the open space and let out a deep breath, or as close as one could get to such a human action when the Warframe vessel it's performed through is so horribly mutated that it only bares passing similarity to its previous form. It didn't matter how many times he saw it, the expanse of space still sparked at the fire in his heart, drawing him in with its siren song of beautiful emptiness of glittering galaxies. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd dreamt of space as a goal to reach, rather than a reality of his daily life, and in many ways it was - an entirely different era to that that he remembered prior to the dream, and yet, seeming so close in his past, haunting his nightmares. Activating his omni, he warped back to the railjack in a blinding flash of light, which faded to reveal the sleek lines of its interior. With one last wistful look out the large, curved window of the cabin, Phantom punched in the directions for the ship to return to the dry dock, the void soon engulfing the railjack and whizzing past in a blur. "That's all for today. Rest up everyone!" Danny called out to his crew, made up of two members of the Steel Meridian faction, and another allied with Cephalon Suda. Taking the helm, Danny hit the void warp with a practised ease, non-colours whipping past in a storm that faded to reveal the dry dock.

No sooner had his warframe touched down on the hard ground of the dock, Ordis popped up in the side of his HUD. “Operator, your sister wanted me to remind you to meet her at the Strata relay. Let’s get it over with- I have the landing craft ready to go whenever you wish to leave.” “Thanks, Ordis,” nodded Danny. “Just gotta catch my breath a moment.” Tapping on the panel by the railjack, Danny parsed through the menus to his spoils from the excursion, cataloguing a few sections of armor plating and firearms to give to Steel Meridian for use on their own crafts, before calling into Ordis to pick him up on the comms.

The relay was pleasantly calm in the dim light of earth’s shadow, few tenno and syndicate members loitering around the place as Danny took a left at the towering Ember statue rimmed with an orange glow (making it look frighteningly close to the real warframe) and into the Steel Meridian HQ. Syndicate members stood around, chatting and working with little concern for the warframe passing through, his grey cloth trailing behind him as an ephemeral tail. He entered deeper into the Steel Meridian HQ, neon green lights of the Phantom warframe clashing with the orange lighting surrounding him. “Hey, Jazz,” Danny called out. Jazz glanced up from her workstation, red hair tied up in a loose ponytail and soldering iron in her gloved hand, soft smile spreading across her face. “Hi, little bro. Just give me a moment to finish this connection.” Danny transferred out of his warframe in a flash of light, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change in height as he adjusted to his significantly shorter frame than that of his warframe, now standing by his side as a still figure, strings cut. “What’re you working on?” Danny questioned, seating himself opposite Jazz at the small table where she hunched, a slight hissing emitting from the iron. Jazz hummed and placed the iron in its stand, then gestured to the glove on her desk, exposed wiring showing through a gap in its lining. “It’s meant to help with hand movement after nerve damage, using supports and motors to assist with fine motor skills.” Her eyes flicked down to Danny’s hand, placed on the desk, covered by his right, and he shifted awkwardly. “You don’t have to do that for me, it’s not that bad,” Danny said cautiously. Jazz gave him a sympathetic, but sharp, look. “You’re not the only person I’m making it for - a lot of Grineer end up with nerve damage, especially with their deterioration. Although I will admit that you gave me the initial idea.” Danny hummed in thought. “Is there anything I can do to help?” “I could use somatic fibres, but other than that, not really,” replied Jazz. “That’s no problem, I can get those easy.” Danny flexed his fingers, the muscle memory of tearing the fibres from the corpses of demolishers coming to the forefront. “That reminds me, have you heard anything about finding Mom and Dad’s work on Lua?” Jazz somberly shook her head. “Sorry, little brother. I know you miss them, but it might not even be there anymore.” “We don’t know that,” Danny cut her off. Jazz just gave him a pitiful look and shuffled her chair in, sitting up straight. Danny just scoffed. “I don’t need therapist Jazz right now.” Jazz slumped slightly, the glow in her turquoise eyes softening. “I understand.” The two of them sat in an empty silence, aside from the constant background noise of the passing syndicate members going to and fro through the cluttered space. “I think they’d want us to move on, but…knowing how close they were to a breakthrough, it’s tempting.” Jazz’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet for her typically bubbly exterior. “But we know it’s just echoes now. You know that, right, Danny?” “I know.” Danny sighed, rubbing his thumb in circles on his left palm. “But don’t you ever want to see the echoes, at least to know if they’re still here in some form.” A pleading could be heard beneath his words. “If the Holdfasts are here-” “And if they’re angels?” Jazz countered before Danny could even finish speaking. “Then we can at least let them die.” Danny muttered, hands scrunching into fists, his left looser than his right, the gloves narrating the pressure with the sound of their thick fabric crunching. Jazz opened and closed her mouth a few times like a fish out of water, trying to think of what to say. “Yeah…” she trailed off, swallowing thickly. “It’d be closure.” “I just, I thought they were gone for good, you know? But then the Zariman came back and it’s all a void-damned mess.” Tears finally broke free from Danny’s eyes, dripping down his face onto the warm cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Jazz reached over and drew him into a hug, practically lifting him out of his seat. Danny responded in kind, fingers gripping the back of her work vest. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. “Me too, little brother, me too.”

#Danny Phantom #warframe #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #this crossover has been my personal brainworm for the past year #now i'm presenting my worms to the world

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Shape-Changing | Corinthian x m!reader

Anonymous asked: I have this personal hc of the Corinthian being able to turn into a snake, so maybe just a fluffy one shot of him chilling as a snake with his bf?

summary: even though it’s not particularly his forte, Corinthian does try and dabble in shape-changing, if only so he can show off his power as a Nightmare.

tws: alcohol, smoking, swearing

word count: 1034

author’s note: all my snakes are mentioned in this :)

Nightmares could do whatever they wanted without worry, and one as powerful as the Corinthian was certainly outmatched when it came to being able to do whatever they wanted without even needing to ponder if it would be a challenge; certainly, shape-changing was a forte best left to those who were made for it, but the Corinthian could dabble. He was certainly good at turning himself into a snake, but he supposed that was because of his boyfriend; you had four of them, and they provided excellent references. The garter snake with its red eyes and pale yellow skin and lavender-coloured checkers. The ball python with its hazel eyes and brown and black and yellow markings, some of which looked like souls screaming out in agony. The corn snake with its rust coloured eyes and orange and black body, a white underbelly with orange and yellow and black squares. The bull snake with its brown eyes and its yellow, brown, red, orange and black body, its pale yellow belly and its tiger-like markings. The garter snake was the smallest in terms of weight, the bull snake the biggest; the ball python was the shortest in length, just about, and the bull snake was the biggest. Thanks to you, Corinthian had four perfect references that he could use when he dabbled in shape-changing.

Sure, he liked the bull snake best, with his aggressive temperament that made him hiss and strike out at anyone but you; he had caught the Corinthian on the hand a few times, and had drawn blood. He was his favourite.

But when he did change shape, Corinthian was a lot bigger; he remained the same height, six foot and an inch and a little bit extra, but he didn’t look like regular snakes; he had snake teeth for eyes, and he was a pale cream all over - similar to those fancy bred ones that you sometimes showed him. A few times, he had been practising while you were going about your business, and you had recognised him immediately, putting him around your shoulders and carrying him around with you as you went about your usual day; you didn’t need to think twice. He would simply sit there, draped over your shoulders like he had seen you done to that five foot-something monstrosity you called a pet bull snake time and time again.

It was getting late, almost eleven o’clock at night, and you were up working on something while Corinthian practised shape-changing upstairs, trying to use his references as best as he could; he got there eventually, though, and made his way down to the kitchen. Not having legs was certainly something he would never get used to, especially when he had to fucking put all of his energy into moving; but he managed, he managed to escape to the kitchen and he managed to get at the table, slithering up and across your shoulders and resting with his chin on yours.

“I’m still working,” you told him with a sigh, reaching for your bottle of bear and taking a swig. “I’d ask you to roll but, I don’t suppose you’ve figured out how you can do that as a snake, have you?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “Soon, though… why don’t you take the night off? I miss my boyfriend.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and getting up; you rolled yourself a cigarette and stepped outside, lighting it and taking a long drag, your head tilting back so that he had to wrap himself around your neck so that he didn’t fall; he didn’t quite fancy knowing what the wet patio felt like. “I’ve got too much to do, I gotta get that shit in for Angela by midnight. Fucking invoices and fucking filing complaints from cunts who just don’t understand it’s not my job that someone chucked their parcel over the fence.”

Corinthian hummed lowly, that forked tongue slipping out for a moment when he sighed. “Can I at least keep you company?”

“Yeah, you can keep me company,” you chuckled. “How long do you reckon you’ll be able to hold the shape this time, though?”

“Hopefully more than an hour,” he replied, “and before you ask - I’m not gonna go hunting rats for you.”

You playfully grumbled, trying to act disappointed even though all you wanted to do was to laugh. “But the boys can’t! They’d get parasites or diseases or other awful shit… you’re a nightmare, you’re invincible against all that shit.”

Corinthian grumbled, doing his best not to laugh as he felt the scales start to quiver and shake, he didn’t have much longer until he was back to his usual self; maybe then he could drag you away from the kitchen table and he could force you to come to bed with him and get some rest. “You haven’t even noticed.”

“Noticed what?” You asked, flicking ash aside before relighting your cigarette and taking a long drag.

“I changed the species,” he told you. “I used the python.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh. “I didn’t, my bad… maybe you can show me when you do it again?”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “I could always try and change into something else, though.”

You hummed quietly, thinking about it for a moment. “Do you reckon you could change into my boss’ boss and get me a raise and less time?”

“I could try,” Corinthian admitted. “Shape-changing is one of the few things I’ve still got to work at… or you could quit altogether, and you could live off of what I make.”

You shook your head. “As nice as that sounds, I… can’t afford it. You know that. I gotta keep working just to be able to afford fucking heating and electric.”

“Think about it for tonight,” he told you. “I’d… it’d make it easier to protect you if you lived off of what I make, and if you stayed as close to me as you can.”

“That sounds almost like you’re trying to say you love me,” you pointed out with a soft laugh.

“Maybe it is,” he mused. “You’ll have to find out later, though… I need to go back upstairs before I crush your throat.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #the corinthian #corinthian x reader #Corinthian imagine #corinthian #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman imagine #the sandman #sandman x reader #sandman

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fuckingthefictional · 3 years

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Hi! I would like a request about Derek from teen wolf, please. The reader is trying to approach him, taking care of him "because Derek is too busy taking care of the others", BUT IT'S BEING SO HARD because of all of his past. Derek and the reader argue one night because of the overprotective nature of the reader about him, and when she tries to leave the loft, completely upset with Derek, he tries to fix things between them. Could you do this with a lot of angst and, then, tons of fluff? Thanks!

Ignored

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: Angst bbyyyy, and some fluffy goodness at the end, not checked over (so probably a crap ton of spelling errors)

A/N: hello hope you enjoy, sorry it took forever! I’m so busy with work, college and personal issues that writing has been put on the back-burner.

When the name Derek Hale was mentioned- one immediately thought of the broody, salty, sarcastic young man who lived by himself after the tragic Hale house fire.

Nobody would ever associate the name Derek Hale and caring. It just wasn’t in his nature. Because under no circumstances could Derek be remotely kind, caring or soft in any way possible.

That’s what people thought of Derek. But not you- or the majority of the pack for that matter.

Yes, you saw where others came from with their ideas and judgement (Derek’s lack of colour in his wardrobe obviously didn’t help either).

But to you when you heard the name Derek Hale, you immediately thought of the kind hearted man who would give up anything for the safety of his friends and family (as much as he claimed otherwise).

You knew him differently, you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew that his favourite food was Spagetti Carbonara without the mushrooms, that he didn’t like Coca Cola, that he secretly loved watching trashy tv shows like keeping up with the kardashians, and most importantly that he was running himself ragged.

He had bitten off more than he could chew when it came to helping everyone out. He was the one giving lifts and helping with homework and hosting pack nights, and handling Isaac’s nightmares, all of this happening at the same time as some supposed lizard creature being on the loose.

You had been ignored by Derek Hale for approximately 72 hours. Now this wouldn’t be bad if it weren’t for two things.

1. He wasn’t aware that he was actively ignoring you.

2. The idiot wasn’t your husband of 2 years.

Over 68 hours ago you hadn’t minded, you had even brushed the silence and distance off- knowing that Derek liked to have a little time to himself.

But when it hit the 5 hour mark of the 4th day, frustration and disappointment had begun to set in.

There was one more thing that made the whole situation worse. He was blatantly ignoring you- and only you.

It hurt. You could admit that to yourself easily without any qualms at all. It hurt.

Whether that was to do with the whole ‘mate’ side of things you didn’t know- all that you did know was that Derek Hale was drowning and he wasn’t going to swim until everyone else was okay.

Thud, thud, thud, creaak

“Der please sit down”

“I can’t. I gotta figure this shit out before the school finishes for the day.” Derek grunted from his spot in the middle of the room. His head firmly stuck in the thick, dusty book that he had been pouring through for the majority of the afternoon.

“Der please, take a break.” You pleaded with him, begging him to just stop for a second and relax.

“I can’t,” Derek murmured again, before he pivoted in his heel and walked away up the staircase.

His heavy footfalls retreated upstairs, the musty book still clutched in his grasp.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you willed the tears in your eyes to stay put and to not roll down your cheeks in fat drops.

Why couldn’t you be enough for him?

The next plea came around 2 hours later, when you brought a bowl of homemade pasta and garlic bread up to Derek. Hoping that just maybe it would strike up a conversation, that maybe he would utter more than two short sentences to you.

“Babe- I made you lunch.” You elbowed your way into the room, balancing the bowl and plate in your hands.

“Just leave it on the desk.” He motioned to an empty slot on the overcrowded surface.

“I just thought that maybe we could have lunch together, have some time with each-other.”

“Y/N/N’s I would- but I have so much to do. Stiles and Scott are already on my ass about the damn lizard freak in town.”

“Der, you need to take a break.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. Instead of feeling them relax you could feel his muscles tense up.

Shrugging your hands off, he pushed the fresh plate of food away, “I can’t.” He spoke simply.

“But-“ you tried to object in protest, trying to plead with the broad shouldered man in front of you- hoping that maybe, just maybe he would come to his senses.

He did not.

“I said no Y/N.” Derek ground out, “I’m busy. Please for the love of God stop bothering me.”

The words stung you, causing you to stumble back in shock. Derek had a hard exterior, everybody knew that. But he had never spoken like that to you.

He had promised on your wedding day that he would always be kind, that he would be your biggest supporter and largest source of love.

But all those words felt like lies now. You felt alone, like an empty shell of yourself. Why couldn’t you just be enough?

Hours flew by, the watch on Derek’s wrist occasionally beeping to signify the new hour. If he were being honest- he had lost track of what the time was.

The only signifier was that Stiles, Scott and the others were in his presence- meaning it was at least 4pm

And judging by the sky outside of his office window, it was late evening, as the sky itself had melted from cool blues into a fantastic array of oranges and purples.

But besides the low chatters and bickering coming from Isaac and Stiles, the house felt almost too quiet.

There was no tv hum coming from the living room, no occasional flush or running of water from the restroom, no sizzle from food coming on the oventop, no sound of a page in a book turning. Nothing. Just silence.

“Hey Derek,” He looked up to see Scott staring at him, “Where’s Y/N?”

“Well-“

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her yet today.” Isaac chimed in.

“I’m not actually too sure.”

Derek was met with a sea of blank stares.

“I’m sorry- there’s a kanima out there roaming Beacon Hills, the very same kanima that is killing more people by the day. And you don’t know where your wife is?” Stiles asked incredulously, “Are you kidding me.”

“Well I’ve been so caught up on this research that I haven’t been spending as much time with her.” Derek attempted to defend himself.

“Derek, please tell me that you haven’t been ignoring your wife.”

Everybody had there eyes on him again.

“Well-“

There was an uproar of protests, all of which were yelling at Derek for ignoring and deserting his wife.

“You better find her Derek, before something happens and you regret it for the rest of your life.”

You really didn’t know how long you had been out here for. All you knew was that the night was closing in and the chill was setting in your bones.

But you didn’t want to go back to the loft, you honestly didn’t think you could handle seeing Derek after his outburst earlier.

The cold, damp ground soaked into your body- sucking all the warmth out of your body at a creeping pace.

The spot you sat in, hadn’t changed much since your first date with Derek. It was still isolated and it gave off the best views in Beacon Hills. Nobody knew about it but you and Derek.

Sighing deeply, you looked out over the viewing point- watching the tiny specks of light flicker in the distance. Every single light showed a different life that was being lived, each one with their own struggles. Beacon Hills was something else to say the least.

“I knew I could find you here.” A familiar voice broke your train of thought.

You kept silent, staring straight ahead, willing that your bottom lip wouldn’t start trembling and the flood gate wouldn’t open in your eyes.

“Look I’m sorry.”

You sniffed, still unable to look your husband in the eyes, “Are you though?” You briefly shut your eyes to stop any tears from breaking through, “or are you just saying that to get on my good side.”

You could feel Derek’s presence settle down besides your own. His breath creating little puffs of mist under the dark sky.

“I didn’t realise you were trying to help me, until it was too late and you’d left the apartment” He muttered, “It’s my fault, I should’ve taken your advice, I should’ve listened to you.”

You listened intently, knowing his words were sincere and heartfelt, “Why didn’t you listen to me then Der?” You responded bitterly.

“Because accepting help means showing weakness, and showing weakness is something I haven’t done since before the fire.” Derek’s voice was small now, “Before I met you, accepting help was off the table- I was a lone wolf, with no pack or family. And now I’ve found you and I’m desperate to not lose that again, I can’t lose you to this new threat in town- I can’t be alone again.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as your husband’s words set in. It made sense to you; why he was studying non-stop, why he had barely slept or ate.

It was apparent that while he was trying to protect his loved ones, he was also pushing them away in the process. That needed to change.

“You won’t be alone Der,” You lay your head down on his shoulder, “I promise that much- it’s you and me forever.”

“Through every supernatural event that happens in this town?”

You giggled softly, “Yes, and every single thing in between.”

#derekhale #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale imagines #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf masterlist #teenwolf #teen wolf #requested

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

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Life Without Colour (PART FOUR)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic mrsbarnes-rogers luosymekawa linzeyzarcone forgetthisbull calamityreads talgra

Warnings: this one takes a darker turn; trigger warnings for kidnapping, drugged, threats/slight violence, Hydra, angst

Note: this is over 6000 words, enjoy!! x

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

A few weeks had passed since you first saw colour; a few weeks have passed since you and Steve talked through everything and made peace with Bucky Barnes being your soulmate which mean a few weeks have passed since you last saw or spoke to Bucky Barnes. After your 3am phone call, you hadn’t seen him. You’d told Steve about the phone call when you were both awake the next morning, telling him as much of the conversation as you could remember. He seemed fine with it, knowing about Bucky’s nightmares and erratic sleeping schedule. In fact, he appreciated the gesture that Bucky reached out to ask what you were comfortable with. What Steve appreciated more though was your honesty and the fact you were straight with Bucky and told him that you and Steve were happy together and nothing would change that.

Everything was fine with you and Steve, every issue had been ironed out and in fact, the two of you had never been closer. You were truly grateful for Steve’s forgiveness and now, the guilt had almost fully disappeared. He had helped you to heal that wound and you had helped to heal his wounds with trust; you had proved yourself to be honest and that it was just one slip up.

Life had been good those few weeks, you spent more time with Nat and got to know about her budding relationship with Bruce. You’d seen the team a bit more than usual as well. No one else - besides Nat and Sam - knew about the soulmate fiasco and truthfully, it wasn’t their business to know anyway. Bucky hadn’t been around much, he’d called Steve a couple of times just to say that he was doing his own thing for a while as per your wishes. Steve was thankful to Bucky for providing that space even if it meant he had only seen his best friend a handful of times since he returned from Wakanda.

Things were good. Until they weren’t.

Steve and the some of the team got dragged to a mission across the country. It was a big one; Hydra were back and trying to infiltrate the systems. Brock Rumlow, or Crossbones as he referred to himself now, was after Steve and he wouldn’t stop until he got him. You didn’t really know what was happening with the mission, Steve was never allowed to tell you a lot about the missions, you just knew that it was a big one and it was dangerous. You hated when Steve was away on a mission; you hated the not knowing part of it all but you supposed it’s what you deserved for falling in love with Captain America.

You didn’t know how serious it was until you had been bringing the groceries into yours and Steve’s apartment and saw four men - three very large, hulking brutes of men - waiting for you. The scream that rose in your throat never found its way out before a gloved hand was forced over your mouth, holding a rag with something strong smelling over your mouth and nose. Brock Rumlow had you pinned in his arms, forcing you to breathe in the chemicals. You tried to fight against him as the fear radiated through your body, trying to put some of those self defence techniques that Natasha had taught you to good use but he was too strong and everything felt fuzzy around the edges. Your eyes were wide as you struggled, trying to escape, trying to scream; trying to do anything that would help to save you. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage and you could feel the panic set in when your vision began to blur. You could see the three men approach, weapons in hand but a gruff voice in your ear said, “Stop struggling and we won’t hurt you.” Whether you wanted to stop struggling or not wasn’t up to you but instead, the choice had been taken away and given to the substance that you were breathing in. As the darkness crept in, you heard a faint voice say, “Get Rogers on the phone now.”

Flashes of light, snippets of sound and quick seconds of vision was what you experienced for a few hours as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t until a loud bang erupted a few rooms away that you really began to come back to life. Squinting in the low light, you blinked hard, trying to focus on something to figure out where you were. Wherever you were, it was dark and dim and it smelled faintly of the explosion of fireworks on the 5th of November.

You weren’t hurt, your neck ached from the position you’d been in for what you could only assume was the last few hours. You went to move when you realised that your hands and feet were bound. That’s when you really began to wake up. What the fuck? Your memory was hazy but you remembered Rumlow and his goons in your apartment. You pulled at your hands, trying to get loose but the bonds that tied your hands were too tight. Squinting, you looked around the room, it was dark, with a metal door and a few wooden boxes in the corner. You were sitting on a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs of it.

Your mind thought of Steve, oh god, Steve. You knew this had been Rumlow’s doing, what if he had gotten to Steve? What if- what if he- No. You couldn’t think like that. Steve had been on a mission states away from you. Rumlow had come to you because he obviously couldn’t get to Steve, he was drawing Steve out and you were the bait. Steve’s going to find you, (y/n). He said he’ll always protect you and he’ll keep that promise.

The more you panicked, the more you began to struggle; trying to break free of the ropes. Your breathing was quick and ragged as you struggled, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. Tears welled in your eyes as your mind raced with the horrors of what was going to happen to you. You froze when you could hear grunting outside, it sounded close.

Fear kicked you hard in the stomach, making you feel light headed and nauseous. You’d never been this terrified before. You thought that the most you could be scared was that time a spider ran across the bed when Steve was in a shower and you had to deal with getting it out of the apartment but no, tied to a chair after being drugged and kidnapped with explosions and not knowing what the fuck was going on... yeah, that’s a whole new level of fear. You tried to slow your breathing as you strained to listen to the commotion outside of the room you occupied. You could hear grunts and what sounded like punches before the metal door of the room was thrown open and there stood Sam Wilson. A sob got caught in your throat as you saw him.

He pressed his earpiece as he rushed to you, kneeling to help untie you, “I got her, Steve. Second floor, take a right, fifth door down. She’s okay.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed as relief flooded your senses, “Oh my god, Sam!”

Sam murmured words of comfort as he worked on the ropes that bounded you to the chair, “It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. We’ve got you now.”

He managed to get the last one untied when Steve ran into the room. He wore his Captain America gear sans the mask and carried the shield. As soon as he saw you, he tossed his shield to the side and rushed to your aid. Sam stepped to the side, picking up the shield and playing around with it as he allowed you two a moment to reunite. He was muttering about how the shield was much lighter than it looked.

“Steve,” you whimpered, throwing your arms around your boyfriend and allowing him to pull you up. He held you tightly, breathing heavy into your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry to interrupt but we gotta move,” Sam said after a minute, “before we get any more company.”

“Are you okay to walk?” Steve asks you, pulling you back to look at you, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Tired but I can make it.”

The three of you hurry out, Steve tells you not to look at the bodies on the floor but you do and you instantly regret it. “Are they-”

“Knocked out,” Sam says, answering your question before you finish it, “but won’t be for long so we gotta hurry.”

Everything’s a bit of a blur as Steve and Sam usher you out, careful to take you the safest and quickest path. You feel queasy after seeing the blood and the carnage of the few HYDRA men so your eyes are trained to the ground until Steve has you safe and sitting in the quinjet.

Steve doesn’t let go of you, always touching or holding onto you in some way or another. You’re silent as Sam begins to fly the jet. Steve’s talking to you but you can’t focus on anything other than his hand in yours, “I’m tired,” you whisper, “I’m so tired.” You lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and darkness quickly encapsulates you.

You gasp awake, jolting upwards, “Whoa, (y/n), it’s okay!” A voice says quickly, “You’re okay, you’re safe remember. It’s Steve, sweetheart; it’s Steve. Look at me, (y/n).”

Your mind whirs, the tendrils of the nightmare still creeping around in your brain. Hands on your face force your eyes to stop fleeting from wall to wall and instead focus on the person in front of you. Steve stares at you, telling you that everything’s okay and that you’re safe now. Steve’s hands are on either side of your face as he makes you look at him. You blink hard, as your eyes struggle to focus on him. You hear the rapid beeping of the machine and you register that it’s your measuring your heartrate. His face finally sharpens and you can see him properly now.

“Slow breath in, sweetheart. You’re safe, I promise you. Copy me.” Steve takes a deep breath and you follow suit, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Steve repeats to you that you’re in hospital and you’re safe, “No one can hurt you in here.”

You look away from him after a few seconds to look around you and sure enough, you are in hospital. The walls are pure white, too white and you’re in the hospital bed, “How did I get here?”

“We got you and you passed out again, I took you here just to make sure that whatever drug they gave you was out of your system. It’s leaving so you’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He brushes your hair back, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t ever want to be an Avenger, I know that’s for damn sure,” you mutter as you close your eyes and fall back against the pillows, “How you guys deal with the fear is beyond me.”

Steve smiles but it’s sad. You open one eye, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. You get some rest and I’ll be right here, (y/n). I’m not going anywhere. Doctors want to keep you in overnight just to make sure it’s all out your system, okay? I’m going to wait by your side all night and don’t worry, we have agents at every door in the hospital.”

“Rumlow?” You asked him, voice trembling, “Where’s he?”

“SHIELD are closing in on him, sweetheart,” he sighs, stroking your hair back gently, “Don’t worry... He can’t get you in here.”

As Steve looked over you as you slept, Sam came into the room, “Coffee delivery.” Steve sipped at the hot coffee happily, “How is she?”

“Had a nightmare about it but she’s okay. She’s scared.” Steve’s eyes were trained on you as though we were watching a newborn infant to check its breathing, “God, what if we hadn’t found her in time?”

“But we did and we got her out. She’s safe, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “But for how long?” He asked as he rubbed his face tiredly with one hand, “How long before Rumlow or HYDRA or someone else targets (y/n) to get to me?”

Sam swallows, “What are you thinking then?”

“She has to go somewhere safe, somewhere away from the chaos and the danger.”

“How long?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know... At least until we know all of Rumlow and his men are locked up.”

“You’ll go with her?”

It’s a big decision and he knows that you should be involved in it but he knows exactly what you’ll say; you’ll say that you want to stay with him and stay by his side even if it means living in terror of every bump in the night. He had been reckless, Steve had thought he was untouchable, he thought that you would’ve been safe but Steve underestimated the lengths these sorts of guys go to in order to win.

He shakes his head, hating the decision that he’s about to make but it’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows that will protect you; it’s the only way he’s happy with you leaving, “No... but I know someone who will.”

Sam shakes his head, knowing exactly who he means and he raises his eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right? That’s a stupid decision, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve scoffs, “I wish... but... he’s strong, he’s good in a fight and I know that he’ll protect her no matter what.”

“But what if... what if they... you know?”

Steve takes a breath and releases it slowly, “Then I’ll deal with that when the time comes. I need to keep (y/n) safe and this is the only way...”

Sam’s hand is heavy on Steve’s shoulder as they watch you, “She’s not gonna like that decision.”

Steve laughs, knowing fine well that you will fight against the decision for all its worth, “Oh, yeah, I know. Probably won’t forgive me in a hurry either.” Steve stands up, “Will you watch her so I can go make a phone call? I’ll just be outside the door if you need me.”

Sam nods, taking Steve’s seat, as Steve grabs his phone from his jacket, dialling one number. He waits outside the room, just across from the two agents that Fury had placed outside of (y/n)’s hospital room 24/7.

“Steve?” He’d been sleeping, the one time Bucky Barnes is getting a decent sleep and his phone rings and wakes him. He always answers when it’s Steve though, regardless of the time or where he is.

“Hey, Buck... I need to ask you a favour.” Bucky asks what Steve needs and Steve begins to tell him, “Rumlow and HYDRA are after me. They kidnapped (y/n), she’s okay, in hospital but no injuries. She’s shaken up pretty bad and... Bucky, this is going to be a big ask.”

“Whatever you need, Steve, I’ll do.” He’s sitting, tugging a shirt on with one arm, “What do you need?” Bucky Barnes would go to the ends of the Earth for Steve Rogers and he knows that whatever Steve needs, it’s something big.

“I need you to take her to a safe house.” Bucky freezes, he had expected Steve to ask him to come help for extra protection or something like that but this... this is huge, “I need you to take her. I don’t know how long for, a few weeks maybe months? No one else, it can only be you.”

“But... Steve...” He doesn’t say much but Steve knows what he’s saying. But Steve, I’m your girlfriend’s soulmate and you’re asking for me to take her into a secluded house alone? Just the two of us for god knows how long? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Steve sighs heavily, “I know, Buck.” His tone almost sounds defeated, “I know... We were finally back on track and the universe hits out with this... I just need her to be safe, Buck, regardless of who he soulmate is or who she ends up falling in love with; I want her to be happy and I want her to be safe.”

“Why can’t you go?”

“They’re after me, I can’t let you or Sam or the team pick up my mess. I have to deal with it. That’s why I need you to go with her. You’re just as strong as me and... I know that you’ll keep her safe. I know that whatever happens, you’ll do everything you can to protect her... I need you to take her until we have Hydra locked up.”

Bucky licks his lips as he thinks about it. He doesn’t really know how to feel about it but he doesn’t really have to, Steve needs him and he’d follow that scrawny kid into the depths of hell if it mean he’d be helping him, “Okay, I’ll help. I’ll need a few days to find a safe house and get it prepped then I’ll fly out, okay?” He agrees to Steve’s ask though he has a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all of this won’t go to plan.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, “You can’t tell me or anyone else where you’re going or where you’re taking her. I probably won’t be able to contact you so-” I’m leaving you with my girl alone with no contact from me or the team for weeks or months potentially, “- you gotta keep her safe. I’ve got some cash together for you to buy everything with that so you’re untraceable. Fury’s giving us more cash since we don’t know how long you’ll be away for.”

Bucky swears on his own life that he’d protect you with everything he has. Before Steve hangs up, Bucky says, “Steve, I just want you to know that no matter what happens... no matter what feelings arise... I won’t- I won’t do anything, I won’t act on anything, I won’t try and do anything about them...”

It’s the reassurance Steve needs and he feels a lot lighter now that Bucky’s said that. He smiles as he release a long breath, “I know you won’t, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” Steve hangs up and walks back into the hospital room where Sam has Marvin Gaye playing quietly on his phone, “Do you just play Marvin Gaye to anyone in a hospital?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “It was too quiet, man! How did it go?”

“He’s onboard.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, “You sure this is what you want? You know that I could take her or you could and I could hold the fort?”

Steve sighs, “It has to be him.” He shrugs, “I... I can only hope that nothing happens but god knows... All I know is that she’ll be okay with him.” The pair look over you as Steve’s thoughts swirl. This might be one of the last times you’re together in a romantic sense, he doesn’t know if you’ll come back loving Bucky or hating him and it makes him feel sick at the thought but he’s okay with it. He wants you to be happy and if that means it’s with Buck, then so be it.

“Absolutely not.”

“(y/n), come on-”

“No, Steve!” Your voice is raising due to the sheer stupidity of his request, “You’re saying that because you’re being targeted that means I’m a target too, I understand that, but what I don’t understand is why you’re asking me to go live in a safe house with Bucky for god knows how long! He’s my soulmate, Steve, I- I can’t.”

“The plans have already been made.”

“Then unmake them!” You’re angry and he gets it and to be honest, he doesn’t want this to happen either but it has to. He’d told you the next morning when the drugs were completely out of your system. Sam was back at the apartment checking for bugs, just in case Rumlow’s gang planted some when they were in and then he’d take you back to the apartment for you to pack a bag, “I’m not going Steve.”

“Yes, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a furrowed brow. He understands that you’re an adult who can decide their own fate but Steve is choosing this one for you, “You might not understand right now but when you come out the other end of this safe then I hope you’ll understand then.”

You shake your head as tears threaten to fall. You’re angry at Steve, that he made this decision and you knew you would be going no matter what fight you put up. It annoyed you, made you feel small and made you feel like a child who couldn’t make their own decisions, “Not without you, Steve. Why can’t it be you?”

“I’m trying to keep the fight away from you,” he says softly, hand on top of yours, “Bucky’s the only way you’ll be kept safe.” Silence falls for a moment before he speaks again, “I know what this means. I know what this could mean for... for us. I know that you could come back in love with Bucky and he for you. I know that you could come back and break up with me on the spot... That’s a risk I am willing to take.”

You shake your head, “No,” you whisper, “I’m not willing to take that risk, Steve.” You could trust yourself, that wasn’t the issue. You knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your relationship with Steve. But... you and Bucky were soulmates and that had to be for a reason and it worried you that being alone with him for an unlimited amount of time would cause something to stir. You trusted yourself not to cheat on Steve but you didn’t trust your heart not to hurt Steve.

Steve crouched down beside the hospital bed and lifted your hand to his lips, “I know, sweetheart,” tears burned at his own eyes as he spoke to you, “I know the risk. I know that you could come back and we could break up instantly and if you want, we could break up right now so that whatever happens, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it-”

You swung your legs out of the bed, throwing your arms around him, “No,” you wept sadly into his shoulder, “that’s the last thing I want.”

He held you tightly, knowing that this very well could be one of the last times that the two of you had together in a relationship, “I’m doing this because I want to protect you, (y/n)… Bucky can protect you.”

“I-I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. My god, how you loved him. He had changed your life, brought so much joy and happiness to it, “No matter what, I love you.” The two of you stayed like that for a long time, just needing to feel each other and needing to be with each other because... who knew what would happen over the course of the next few months?

With doctors granting you permission to leave the hospital and after having Sam debug the apartment, Steve took you home for your last night with him. The car ride to the apartment was quiet and your hand never left Steve’s as he drove you both home. You had relented with the decision, knowing full well that regardless of whether you said yes or no to leaving with Bucky, you would be going anyway. You and Steve had talked things over, about Steve’s duty to the job and to taking down Hydra, about Bucky and how he wasn’t going to overstep a line with you or anything like that. The pair of you spoke about the non-existent contact you’d have.

“Hopefully it won’t be too long,” Steve said, “maybe just a few weeks but these days, Hydra is everywhere and nowhere all in the one, it could be months. Bucky managed to find a safe house relatively quick. For obvious reasons, I don’t know where it is or what continent it’s on but he said that it’s secluded and it’s safe. He said that it comes with minimal furniture so tomorrow morning, you’ll leave.” You squeezed his hand tightly, not wanting to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Steve glanced over at you and gave you the tiniest of smiles. He lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

When you reached the apartment complex, there were three black SUVs parked out front, Steve saw you looking, “SHIELD agents,” he told you, “We’ll have agents outside the apartment and one in each of our neighbour’s apartments.”

“Jeez,” you murmured, “I’m only here for one night, it’s like I’m a bloody Kardashian.”

Steve smiled slightly, glad to hear you make a joke, he wrapped an arm around you as you walked into the building, “Only the best for you, my love.”

You were rather apprehensive about going back into the apartment. It had been yours and Steve’s safe place and now... it seemed compromised almost. Steve seemed to pick up on your worry, “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said as he took the keys out of his pocket, “It’s been cleaned, debugged and also...” He unlocked the door to reveal red rose petals running from the front door into each room.

“Steve,” you whispered, looking at him with a smile. You walked into the apartment, hanging your coat up and kicking your shoes off. You followed the petals into the kitchen where there was a candlelit dinner waiting for the two of you.

“It’s not much but I had Nat come round and make it special since it’s our last night together.” Note; ‘last night together’ is different from ‘last night together for a while’. A pang of sadness shot through you, you leaned up to kiss him softly, whispering that you loved it.

“There’s a bath waiting for you if you want it. Some Chinese takeout if you’re hungry.”

You hugged him tightly, “Just hold me for a while.” So, the pair of you stood in the kitchen, holding each other in the dim light not knowing what would happen next.

It was a few minutes later Steve tugged you to the kitchen table where you both sat down, “You remember our first night here?” He asked you as he handed you some take out cartons and began to eat.

You stifled a laugh, “Yeah, no electricity for three days and no hot water either!”

Steve laughed with you, taking a fork full of chow mein, “Yeah, having to eat Chinese take out on the floor with torches and candles all around us. Could’ve cried when the electricity finally turned on.”

You rolled your eyes, “You could have cried?! What the hell, Rogers? You teared up like you were watching your first born son marry!”

The ice had been broken and the two of you could freely talk and laugh without boundaries. You both carried on as though it were a normal night, a date night with no mention As the night went on, you had a nice romantic bath as Steve cleaned the dishes and when you were finished, things ended in the bedroom.

You always loved laying on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heart and his steady breathing. Most people, if they knew it was their last night with someone would probably fuck until dawn but neither of you wanted that. You wanted nothing more than to lie with him, talking and just being there and being present. Steve wanted to hold you, wanted to tell you how much he cared and loved you and he just wanted to be with you.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “I just want you to know that this was real; this is real - that although we’re technically not soulmates, I truly believe that we are.”

Steve pulled you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I want you to know,” he said, “that no matter what feelings you start to have for Bucky, no matter how you feel towards me in the end up... I won’t blame you. I won’t expect you to love me like this on the other side. I won’t expect you to still want to be with me. I know that I’m forcing you into this situation and that kills me to do but I have to do it so whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

You look up to him as you both whisper your confessions of undying love before kissing him gently. It’s a soft kiss, full of emotion and full of such sorrow. It’s a goodbye. You would say goodbye officially tomorrow but this was the real goodbye, this was the intimate goodbye, the letting go of the intertwined hearts and this was it. The kiss soon turned more passionate and then the two of you were confessing your love in the most intimate of ways.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Natasha asked you as she sat on yours and Steve’s bed. You were in the process of packing your bags.

“I feel like I’m perpetually on the verge of tears,” you answered, as you folded some t-shirts and squeezed them into the bag, “It’s hard, you know? I understand why but my god, Nat, I hate this.”

Nat studied you carefully and you knew the question that was on her mind. What if you fall for Barnes? To be honest, it had been the question on everyone’s mind that morning.

“I’m shit scared,” you admitted to her, dropping the bag onto the bed beside her as you ran your hands through your hair, “I am terrified. I am so in love with Steve and what if I come back madly in love with Bucky? Or better yet, in love with the two of them?”

Nat stood up, placing a gentle hand on your arm, “Hey, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. You can’t stress about something that might not even happen. You have to take it day by day and if you fall for him then so be it. If you don’t, great. If you’re in love with the two of them then that’s something you and Steve have to talk about and sort out when you’re back. Don’t stress about it now.” She pulled you in for a tight hug, a very un-Nat thing to do, “Just know that I’ll be helping Steve sort out the Hydra mess, I’ll keep his ass safe and in line and hopefully it won’t be too long before you’re allowed to come home.”

“Thanks, Nat.” The two of you pulled apart, “You’ll need to keep a diary or something to update me on everything I’ll miss... especially with you and a certain Dr Banner.” You placed your phone on top of the counter, you couldn’t take it for fear of tracking so there was no point in having it. You sighed as you placed it down.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Yeah right. Let’s get this wig sorted.”

The Avengers were never too good at disguises, it usually always consisted of sunglasses and a cap so, in order to hide your identity further, Nat had brought you a wig the opposite colour, cut and style to your hair just now and some contact lenses of a different colour to your natural eye colour.

After a few minutes, you looked in the mirror, staring at someone who looked like a stranger, “Oh god, I hate it.” The top you wore wasn’t at all flattering for your body type. You tugged it down, wishing that it wasn’t quite so figure hugging. You didn’t mind things that clung to your body, you’d worked through a lot of the body issues you had but the top was a horrid colour and paired with this hair and these contacts... you didn’t feel like a Kardashian anymore.

Nat laughed, “That means it works. Honestly, you look fine, stop worrying... Let’s go show the boys.”

You walked into the living room with your packed bags to see Sam and Steve standing talking. Steve smiled when he looked at you, “You look... interesting.”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

“I mean, it definitely works because I look at you and I don’t see (y/n), I see a complete stranger,” Sam offered.

“You ready?” Steve asked softly, taking the bags from you, “Got everything?” You nodded, murmuring a ‘think so’. He smiled and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket, “I wrote this letter this morning. I want you to read it when it’s time...” Your confused expression made him explain further, “I want you to read this letter when you start to feel things... things for Bucky. If that happens.” You took a breath, mind whirring with the possible things that could be in that letter, “You’ll know when to read it.”

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Sam answered it to see Bucky Barnes standing wearing a cap and, you guessed it, sunglasses. He wore leather gloves to cover his metal hand and carried a bag over his shoulder. He lifted the sunglasses to look at you, “Ready?”

Oh god, it’s happening.

“I don’t want to cry because I’m scared of the contact lenses,” you whimpered as tears threatened to fall. You hugged Nat and Sam, thanking them for their help, before Steve said that he’d walk out with you both. He picked up your bags and the three of you left the apartment to the black car that was outside. Bucky packed the three bags in the trunk before hugging Steve.

You couldn’t hear what the two of them said in the brief encounter but you supposed that it would be Bucky reassuring Steve that you’d be safe and that he wouldn’t act on any feelings that may grow. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and Bucky got into the driver’s seat of the car.

Steve turned to you and wrapped you in his arms. God, you just wanted to cry. You wished that you didn’t have to go, you wished that you could just stay with him but you couldn’t. You had to leave. They’d already gotten to you once and Steve wouldn’t dare let it happen again.

“I love you,” you told him softly, “I love you so much, Steve. I-I love you.”

He held you tighter, “I love you, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll get this sorted so that you can come home to me.” You pulled back and he brushed your cheek, wiping your tear gently, “No matter what happens, it’s okay.” You hugged him again before he leaned down and kissed you softly. Bucky, who had been watching in the rear view mirror, looked away, “Goodbye, (y/n).”

“Goodbye, Steve.” He opened your car door and you slid inside.

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “Be safe.” He closed the door and Bucky started the engine, pulling out of the apartment complex. Your eyes were trained on the spot where Steve was, watching as he got smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see him anymore. It was only when he was out of sight that you allowed yourself to really break. Fuck the contact lenses, I’m too sad to care.

Bucky glanced at you as he drove, feeling a pang of sadness for you as you wept in the seat beside him. He knew that part of the reason you were so upset was because it was him that was taking you, had he not been your soulmate you would have probably been okay but because he was your soulmate, it filled you to the brim with worry, guilt and pure sadness. All he could do was drive. Nothing he could say could help you. He reached to his side, taking a pack of tissues from the door’s compartment before handing them to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking them from him. He couldn’t do much to help but he had done enough to make you feel comforted and to make you feel as though you weren’t alone. You wiped your eyes as you stared out of the window, wondering where the next few weeks would take you.

#lwc #life without colour #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #plus size reader #steve rogers/reader/bucky barnes #marvel #soulmate au #avengers #reader #steve rogers/reader #bucky barnes/reader

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negans-lucille-tblr · 3 years

Text

Too Close (Absent Sequel) - Chapter One

Summary: Dean and Y/N are finally happy and settled in Paris, but there’s something threatening to disturb their peace - and with them comes secrets and betrayal.

Rating: 18+ (Smut/Angst/Fluff - Dark scenes)

Chapter Warnings: angst, light smut, fluff, mentions of having a baby, mentions of incestuous breeding

Chapter WC: ±2K

A/Ns: I’m so happy to be writing for these characters again, and so excited for the plans I’ve got! - Please send me an ask to be tagged in this series!

This fic is currently being posted four weeks (8 chapters) ahead on Discord.

Too Close Masterlist // Daughter!Reader Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Chapter One

One Week Later

Dean lets out a slow, long breath, dropping the pen to his desk as he reaches for his cell. It's almost 9pm, which means that it'll be almost 4am in Paris. Even if he had anything to say, even if he could fix this, she wouldn't be awake anyway. He reaches into the top drawer of his desk and finds the whiskey bottle, reaching across for what appears to be a clean glass, before pouring a large measure and shooting it back.

"Dean? What are you still doing here?" Dean turns to see Sam in the doorway.

"I urm, missed my flight," Dean lies, suddenly interested in the paperwork he's been avoiding all night, not having the attention span for it, until now apparently.

"Dude, it's a private jet," Sam scoffs. Dean almost rolls his eyes at his brother's inability to get the hint that he doesn't want to talk about this.

"Yeah well, there's still paperwork I gotta do for London."

"Well let me have a look," Sam offers, dropping himself into the armchair opposite.

"It's fine. I'll handle it. It's not your business," Dean argues. He closes his mouth for a second, realising how that sounded and then clears his throat, "I just meant, it's separate to normal business. Like Paris," he explains.

"You and Y/N buying another hotel in Europe?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, well Y/N doesn't know about it yet. But there's only so many times she can change the colour of the bar. Thought she'd like a new project. And she likes London."

Sam opens his mouth as if he's about to speak, but then shuts it again. Dean's fairly sure he doesn't want to hear whatever Sam has to say, but then Sam finally goes and says it anyway.

"Everything okay between you two?" he checks. Dean and Y/N's unconventional relationship hadn't been a secret between the brothers for a couple of years now. Not since Sam walked in on them during his second visit to Paris. He'd taken it far better than Dean ever thought he would. Dean was at least expecting some kind of fight on his hands, something about how close he was to his own daughter - too close - but Sam had never said anything about it. There was the odd look, the odd frown, but Dean had never labelled it as disgust. In fact, Dean's not sure what he'd label that look his brother shoots in their direction from time to time.

Sam had known well before that that Dean's feelings towards Y/N weren't proper, and Dean had even figured out for himself that neither were Sam's, to a certain degree, but Sam had never done anything about it, unlike Dean - as far as he knew, anyway.

"She's been off since I brought her here to visit for Christmas," Dean confesses, pouring some more whiskey. "I thought almost three years would've been long enough, but ever since we got home, she's been different. I guess she wasn't ready. Must still think about that night. She still gets nightmares sometimes." Dean sighs heavily leaning forward on the desk, but Sam doesn't say anything.

"I thought we'd made good progress, but bringing her back here just set her back. I don't know how to help her right now. She's-" Dean scoffs and shakes his head. He can't even bring himself to tell Sam, gulping down more whiskey as he thinks back to the week before, the night he left for Kansas.

Dinner was satisfying, and the night air is warm but pleasant on Dean’s face as he walks hand in hand with Y/N back home.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she suddenly asks. Dean glances across at her and pouts his lips a little. “What do you mean?” he checks.

“Well you know, me and you?” She looks over at him and bites her bottom lip. “Like, what we’re gonna be doing in five years’ time.” Dean stops and thinks for a second, trying to be careful with his answer. Truthfully, he’s never thought about it - he’s never wanted to think about it.

“Whatever happens, I hope you’re by my side,” he tells her honestly, squeezing her hand.

“You mean that?” she checks. “You still wanna be with me… like this, in five years time?” Dean smiles wider and pulls her into his side, wrapping his arm around her. He stops walking and turns to face her head on.

Reaching up to cup her face, he strokes his thumb along her cheek and stares into her eyes intently.

“Sweetheart, I wanna be like this for the rest of our lives, I thought you knew that,” he tells her softly. She bites back her smile, and then leans forward to kiss him softly.

“I want to, too, Daddy,” she purrs against his lips. Dean’s fingers slip to curl under her chin as he tips her face up to look at him more clearly.

“Then it’s settled,” he smirks. She giggles softly, and nods her head.

“Do you want to stay in Paris?” she asks next. Dean looks around them. Paris had quickly become home to them.

“If that’s what you’d like,” he agrees. She bites her bottom lip and Dean uses his thumb to tug it free gently, watching it spring back into place. “I love you, baby girl, you know that, don’t you?” he prompts. She nods her head gently.

“I love you too, Daddy,” she tells him, kissing him softly again.

There seems to be more of a spring in her step as they continue on their way home, and Dean glances across and smiles at her. After the last six months, it’s nice to see her happy again for once, Dean just wishes he knew how to make it more permanent.

Y/N's lips are smothering Dean's as she hums and grinds down into his lap desperately. It's been weeks since she's wanted sex - and the once that she did, they had to stop because she got upset. Dean can't even think why, but she's been touchy since Kansas, and he can only think that something more must have happened the night of her kidnapping all those years ago - something she's not telling him. But it doesn't matter how many times he asks her, she tells him she's already told him everything that she remembers, and goes stiff and closes off. So what more can he do?

Y/N kisses him harder, almost bruisingly, like she's trying to encourage him. But Dean's hesitant, and can she blame him? Last time he touched her - last time they fucked - it ended with her locking herself in the bathroom in floods of tears whilst refusing to talk to him or let him in, and he'd rather not repeat that again.

"Gonna miss you so much, Daddy," she gasps against his mouth, her fingers twisting into his henley.

"Only gonna be gone a few days, Princess," he reassures her, trying to keep her calm. She whines, pathetic and needy against him, and then grinds her hips down harder - and Dean can't help but feel himself getting more and more aroused.

"Need you Daddy, please."

"You sure, baby?" he asks softly, trying to keep at least some semblance of control.

"Yes, please," she whispers desperately.

Dean gives in, kissing back passionately, gripping at her waist and pulling her tighter into him. He lifts them and carries her into their bedroom, dropping her to her feet at the foot of the bed. She hums happily against his mouth and then trails her kisses along his jaw and down his throat, her small fingers trying hard to unbutton his shirt as quickly as she can.

"Want a baby, Daddy. Give me a baby." Dean's heart jumps into his throat and lodges there, his body tensing for a second.

"What, sweetheart?" he prompts, hoping to god he's heard that wrong.

"Want a baby. Please?" she breathes against his neck, her hand rubbing over his crotch. But she's not going to find any trace of the arousal that had started to blossom there moments before, not anymore. "Put a baby in me. Then I'll never be alone again, and we can love it, and it'll be ours, don't you want that Daddy?" she whimpers.

Dean pushes her away, gently but firmly and frowns.

"Sweetheart, no. We can't - that can never happen, I thought you knew that."

"Why not? You don't love me enough?" she asks, out of breath. Her hair is a mess from Dean's fingers, and her clothes are askew.

"Baby girl, no, it's not that," he reassures her immediately. She lunges for him again.

"Then give me a baby, oh please Daddy," she begs. Dean pushes her away again, a little more forcefully this time - a little less carefully.

"No, Y/N, we can't. We can't ever have a baby together, you understand?" he asks her firmly.

She frowns deeper and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Baby, we're - you're-" but Dean can't even bring himself to say it. They've lived in a bubble in Paris for three years now. Besides the odd reminder when Sam visits, or Dean stops by Kansas, they'd been happy enough pretending that who they really are doesn't exist. In Paris, they're just a happy couple with no cares or secrets. Besides, no one truly knows them here. No one knows anything that they don't want them to. They were happy here - just a couple, nothing more.

"We can't have a baby," Dean concludes. "Ever." Y/N's eyes glass over with tears and she shakes her head. Dean wants to change his mind, but he can't. It's a line he won't ever cross. He's not being the reason there's a kid that's fucked up in ways they can't even comprehend right now. A product of something so unnatural, no matter how much he doesn't want to admit it. He and Y/N had never had to have this conversation before, but by the look on her face, it's something she'd never even considered, until now.

"She wants a baby, Sam," Dean finally lets slip. He needs to talk to someone that isn't Y/N. Someone who understands just why he can't give her that.

"Dean, no. You can't. That's - are you out of your mind?!" He seems angry. Dean looks up at him and frowns.

"Fucking hell, Sam, what do you take me for? I obviously said no." Sam seems to relax slightly at the confirmation. "Jesus Christ. You think I'd even consider it?! I know there's a million reasons why that can't happen."

"Okay, good," Sam replies on an out breath.

It's quiet between them as Dean pours another drink.

"What are you doing here, man?" Sam sighs.

"I told you paper-"

"No, what are you doing with Y/N? You've had your fun, but it's time to let her go. C'mon man, you can't give her everything she wants. You can't marry her, you can't give her a baby. Don't you want all that for her?" Dean looks away, clenching his jaw. Sam's comments strike a nerve with Dean because it's the exact argument he's had in his head since arriving in Kansas.

"It's not that simple, Sam. I love her."

"I know you do, she's your daught-"

"No, Sam. I love her. Butterflies when we kiss, whole world on fire, can't breathe without her, chick flick bullshit love her. Okay?"

Sam's quiet, painfully so, for several moments, and Dean just pours another drink and tries to numb the pain washing over him.

"So, London is a distraction," Sam finally says. Dean sighs and rubs his eyes with his fingers.

"She just needs a new project, that's all," Dean insists, hoping to fuck he's right. "Once she gets planning and designing in London she'll forget about all of this." But Dean can't tell if he's convincing Sam or himself anymore - what he can tell is he's starting to get drunk now, so at least that will help him ignore the crushing guilt for a little while.

Next Chapter >

Always and Forevers: @stoneyggirl / @hoewkeye / @dandywinchesterbras / @foxyjwls007 / @kyjey / @spnbaby-67 / @waywardbabie / @phoenixblack89 / @miraclesoflove / @valisiofdauntless / @peaches007 / @xoxabs88xox / @sam-girl1998-blog / @linki-locks11 / @vulgar-library / @jades-bullshit / @dirty-pan-goblin / @little-diable / @waywardbaby / @tatted-trina6 / @lunarmoon8 / @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone / @warrior-angel

* * *

Supernatural Forevers: @moosekateer13 / @akshi8278 / @atc74 / @notyourtypicalrose / @angelofthetrenchcoats / @pyroqueen-k / @thecreatiivecorner / @collette04 / @lovealways-j / @noneedtoknow789 / @socalgem1124 / @impala1967dwinchester / @thoughts-and-funnies / @blueaura / @animegirlgeeky / @onethirstyunicorn / @zeppette / @anaelsbrunette / @lettersofwrittencollective / @beth-winchester21 / @laxe-chester67 / @nightsbite / @h0unds-of-h3ll / @squigglylinesdotthei / @an-unforgettable-place / @seawinggs / @krazykelly / @shelvierenablatt / @bobbie3939 / @sharp-cheekbones-locked / @jaydahlynne / @michellemxndes / @allys-creative-bubble / @squirrelnotsam / @lyarr24 / @deansbxtch / @pinkshenanigan / @beskaradberoya / @mikadwinchester / @chocolateheart / @cluz1babe

* * *

Too Close Tags: @deans-baby-momma / @lifeofrileyp / @smellingofpoetry / @sweetaspiesammy / @destiel-bridesmaid / @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x / @healpeony / @cemini-winchester / @destielstuffandthings / @moonlightandscarlet / @prettysourabbie / @bobbysxidgits / @brookelan / @xhannahbananax03 / @teresa-67 / @vikki240401 / @inkedaztec / @awinchester27 / @cutebutnotinorcent / @cole22ann / @1800-bleach / @deangirldream / @ghostlygooppeanutwobbler / @deanscroissant / @jensenswinchester / @secretlovexo / @tremendouseggsmugpizza

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sheriff-caitlyn · 3 years

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I started this blog in 2014, as the first Caitlyn on tumblr, and obviously I’ve been through a lot of retcons and changes myself, not only adapting to Riot’s own public retcons (from the minor, like her aesthetics, to the major, like the removal of the Institute of War as an integral part of their lore) but also to my own. That’s the thing about playing a character as complex as this, is that you learn more as you go. In your interactions with others and the creation of backstory, history, and other bits of worldbuilding to better understand the world you’re in, a character goes from a handful of images and some in-game voicelines to a fully-fledged person with a complex narrative. Sometimes things change, and that’s fine. But there are some changes which... aren’t.

For all the fingerprints I’ve put on her, she is still not my character. But I care. Sunk-cost fallacy, maybe, but I care about this character I have been involved in and I care about the direction she has been taken. So, without further ado, I’d like to delve into:

The Recent Caitlyn Update In Piltover’s New Context or, We Gotta Fetishise Police Violence, I Mean, Look At Her, She’s So Hot

Back in August 2015, I went, ‘Oh No, they’re going to try to turn Piltover into Gotham City, aren’t they?’, and lo and behold, suddenly we have Poison Ivy now. But I will get back to that, later. In this particular thread, I noted that many of the characters in Piltover seemed destined for a revamp that would rob them of what originally drew us to them in the first place, and that Piltover seemed destined for a rework that would wash out much of their character. Piltover and Zaun were always meant to be polar opposites, but suddenly we were seeing glimpses of Piltover being ‘not as good as everyone thinks’, which hinted that Piltover and Zaun were destined not to be polar opposites in the future, but indistinguishable from each other. It worried me that the only thing telling these two fascinating cities apart would be the sunlight.

So, when we have so much potential for a clash between Zaun and Piltover, between ‘Science No Matter The Cost’ and ‘We Must Advance The World With Care’, why change Piltover to some murky middleground, turning peace and security into wartime capitalism? A world where the people are shitty, where weapons and profit come first, and the only ones making a stand are the ones who are so embittered they have nothing better to do?

Because it has to be ‘interesting’. We’re going to lose bits that we like, that we’re familiar with. And that’s why I’m concerned.

This was before Piltover and Zaun were squished together in an ugly - and utterly ham-fisted - method of showing How Complex The Future Is. There’s layers, guys! Literal layers to this one single city! That means it’s deep! But when I say ‘bits that we like, that we’re familiar with’, I’m not clinging to a fanon interpretation. I’m saying the things that drew us to the world and to the characters to begin with. I could adapt from Caitlyn turning from brown-haired and brown-eyed to black-haired and blue-eyed, because even through I had been doing art, at that point, the change gave me an opportunity to express and discover more about her character (her eye colour being influenced by her mother’s magic, for one). But some of the more stark changes - to family, to job, to personality, to the city of Piltover itself - these result in a character changing completely. I was worried that the cool detective who literally made the world a better place would be chopped and changed into something unrecognisable. I even expounded on my concerns in November 2016, where I could see some of the ways the writers at Rito might make adjustments in the direction of their lore updates.

All this to say, I’ve been working on her for a while, and I was bracing for some bad news. This? This is kind of the worst.

Caitlyn has always been the Sheriff of Piltover, an authority figure, a representative of the law and order that Piltover is famous for. Piltover’s peace and financial prosperity has been directly linked to Caitlyn’s concerted effort to eradicate crime (not criminals, crime! Which, as I have mentioned particularly in this post from 2014, means she upended and reformed the justice system, from the legal process to the prisons to how people are treated as citizens). The city is safe, people have greater access to personal wealth and development, classism is erased, society is flourishing. Zaun, as Piltover’s polar opposite, is a corporate nightmare, with ‘do as thou wilt’, private bodyguards for the rich and powerful while the poor scramble to survive in a system that barely treats them as human. Vi, as a Zaunite, brings a lot of her ‘violence as a problem-solver’ methodology to Piltover’s law-enforcement, though she seems to have no intention of returning to Zaun and seems to have bonded with Caitlyn (‘teamwork!’) to Get Shit Done. And, apparently, there is still shit that needs to be done, though nowhere near as much as there had been in the Bad Old Days.

Vi was, at the time, the awkward-grit-teeth-grin-ha-ha-um-yeah representation of police violence. ‘Resist arrest’, she cries gleefully, as she beats people and breaks down buildings, and we are supposed to go ‘ha, isn’t that funny’ with varying degrees of sincerity. Of course Piltover is going to have problems: anywhere that has wealth and stability is going to be targeted by the envious and the needy. Peace needs to be protected. The problem lies in how that protection is enacted.

So now we have the recent Legends of Runeterra update to Caitlyn, an update which looked at the context of Piltover needing protection, as well as the modern context of Riot’s California location in the Years of Our Lord 2020-2021, and then decided ‘you know what we need? Police violence, everyone loves police violence’.

MAN I thought the stripper-cop skins were bad but here we go!

Her Yordle Snap-Traps (which I envisioned as from the Yordle Military, rather than a racially-profiling weapon as, y’know, they work on human-and-larger-sized people as well) have now been replaced by electroshock grenades, the intent gone from incapacitation and observation to outright paralysis and destruction. Her net-short is now apparently electro-conductive (admittedly, I have had one (1) single RP where that happened, but it came at both a cost to Caitlyn and to her weapon’s efficiency as a result, a last-resort against a dangerous opponent). Caitlyn’s cards in LoR take her from being a detective coordinating ideas and people and putting together a case to a SWAT team leader. This might be the biggest problem in working for a non-combat-oriented character in a MOBA, or in any fighting game: the game needs to find rationalisations for all of their characters being there, being combatants, being able to kill (even if, as Riot says, the lore is separate from the game). We have monsters and soldiers and ancient powers who of course they know how to spill blood and relish in doing so. But pacifists, like Karma or Bard? Explorers like Ezreal? And a sheriff, a peacekeeper, a law-keeper, someone mindful of responsibility and the importance of saving every life possible, like Caitlyn? They’re stripped of that depth and complexity in-game, but there was always the lore that backed them up. But they’ve done away with that completely. Caitlyn was never special operations. She was never military. But now she is, because she had to be changed to fit better into a fighting game. They had to make her violent, and as a result, they have undermined not only everything about the character that made her interesting to begin with - turning her now into a representative of police brutality, but with long hair, pouty lips, and a thigh gap - but they’re also re-writing the context of Piltover. It was bad enough to squish Piltover and Zaun together. But now, Caitlyn’s update is proof that Piltover has gone from a steampunk utopia to a violent, oppressive and cynical post-industrial world. The depiction of Caitlyn as a SWAT team leader (complete with special-forces beret, because hat! Caitlyn wears a hat! Nevermind the fact that she’s no longer wearing a distinctive tophat but instead a symbol of extreme state-sponsored force!) shows us that Piltover’s ‘army’ is not designed as a defence against outsiders, but as an offensive force against their own people. Caitlyn is supposed to be the representation of how peace and order is maintained in one of the largest factions in League of Legends, and if her method of maintaining order is straight-up police violence against their own citizens, then it’s not really peace and order. It’s authoritarianism at best, and facism at worst.

Piltover was different from every other nation in Runeterra because it didn’t have a military. It had defenders, and it had a powerful economy, and it had a democratic political system. But the Piltover update retconned Caitlyn’s hard work. The gangs were back - though now they’re big powerful families like Clan Ferros - and Caitlyn has been de-aged so that she’s still new to the force, that she hasn’t even had her chance to change anything. Her importance to Piltover is minimised... and why is Vi even there? (Oh boy I guess you’re going to have to watch Arcane to find out! Coming to a Netflix near you soon!) With a younger Caitlyn in a violent society, she has no choice but to be violent herself... even if that undermines everything previously established about Piltover and about Caitlyn. This update has made Piltover just as ugly and oppressive as Demacia, Noxus, and Zaun. It’s just another army equipped to do violence, but now that violence is turned inwards. This isn’t protection, it’s control. It’s fear. It’s oppression. Caitlyn is no longer a peacekeeper. She’s a monster. Chopped and changed, as I feared, into something completely unrecognisable from how she began in a world that no longer looks like what it had been... or should be.

It’s hard to tell what came first, the change to Piltover or the change to Caitlyn. Either way, the changes are inextricably linked. Caitlyn was integral to Piltover’s modern state, and Piltover is integral to Caitlyn as a character. Her (original) drive was to make the city and all its people better; Piltover was a utopia because of the effort of Caitlyn, and of people like her, people who wanted a better world. This new iteration of Piltover - full of fear and violence and hypocricy, layered over Zaun in such a way that makes ham-fisted commentary about the wealth/class divide - undermines the value of the individual. It removes agency. It removes hope, which had been integral to Piltover. Piltover is no longer the CIty of Progress... it’s the City of ‘you better be rich and pretty if you want to progress’. And Caitlyn is no longer a force for good or a representative of responsibility, because those things don’t exist in Piltover anymore. Legends of Runeterra has turned Caitlyn into a bitch, someone to hate. She has a marked lack of respect for people, as demonstrated in her new character traits of ‘casually-racist’ (her lines to Veigar), ‘condescending’ (her lines to Viktor), with some added pride in her violence (’here’s my calling card *shoots gun*’ and ‘I aim to win and my aim is excellent’). She is a representative of her city, and she is a terrible person now. Piltover is terrible. Piltover is ugly.

But Caitlyn avoids that last part. And she’ll get away with it, because she’s a hot twenty-something.

In 2015, I drew Caitlyn-as-Swain, as an AU for what might have been. The overwhelming response at the time was ‘aaa she’s so hot I’d follow that leader of Noxus’, prompting a good friend Swain RPer to comment that Swain - who was, at the time, the withered man in green and gold who needed a cane - was just as smart as Caitlyn if not more so, a proven capable leader, but when it comes down to it, sex-appeal will always trump characterisation and storytelling, and that’s disheartening for someone who puts so much work into stories, to context, to something deeper than ‘Just another MOBA’. And here I am, in 2021, looking at how Caitlyn has been stripped of her fascinating and complex characterisation while maintaining her long legs, long hair, and corsetted figure. Now, I do appreciate the fact they’ve given her a better costume than miniskirt and boobtube. She deserves so much better. I even commissioned back in 2015 for a Better Look for Caitlyn; Tom aka FaerieFountain went on to make her new look canon. But she’s supposed to be a detective. She’s supposed to be careful and methodical and mindful of her status and power. Instead, she’s been made gleefully violent, leaving a lot of depth behind in order to become just Hot Cop With Gun. (As an aside, was anyone else uncomfortable with Caitlyn’s high-school skin? Especially when the writer actually tweeted ‘step on me’? Hello? Ma’am? That is a high school student, that is a CHILD you are talking about? But Caitlyn is hot so it’s fine! Sexualise a child! it’s fine, she’s hot, it’s fine!) Almost everyone who has contacted me about Caitlyn’s LoR cards has been excited to see her. Good! She’s a great character! Or, she was. But the enthusiasm about her is tied to how she’s so violent, how she uses her power to abuse those who don’t conform. But she looks great, smoking hot, you know? And when she’s smoking hot, her dangerous and abusive behaviour and attitude are completely excused. An update to a character needs to take into account characterisation as well as the visuals. Her update, sadly, has focused on the all-too-prevalent problem of the viciousness of state-sponsored violence, rather than the complexity of detective work, of puzzle solving and intellectualism, but because she looks hot and speaks in that British accent, no-one’s going to care. Hot ladies can get away with so much, because legs and pouty lips, but I guess she’s also a cop or whatever.

And, as a momentary aside, why is an eco-terrorist suddenly Caitlyn’s longtime foe? It makes zero sense for Piltover and for Caitlyn that someone who plant-based powers is her biggest rival and the city’s biggest threat. Zero sense, until you take into account that Piltover has been stripped of its character and made into something more aligned with modern authoritarianism than the hopeful vibes of steampunk. Environmentalism? Not on my watch! Deploy the police (the good guys!) to silence the protesters (who are obviously the bad guys becase they’re protesting)! Because Piltover and Zaun are one city now, and therefore indistinguishable, we have a fucking Poison Ivy character causing enough trouble in Piltover to warrant entire fucking SWAT teams opening fire within the city limits and around peoples’ homes! Not Zaun, which is the environmental nightmare, but Piltover! With its fresh air and open skies! Yes, that’s a great place for an eco-terrorist to blame and/or try to fix! The whole thing is honestly so backwards! Like they’ve decided to make a cool character in the form of Corina and just shove her into the story, rather than finding a place in the narrative that suits her. The idea that Corina is C makes no sense. Caitlyn vs C is supposed to be Sherlock versus Moriarty, Ganimard versus Lupin, ACME versus Carmen Sandiego, world’s greatest detective against the world’s greatest thief. It focused on the intellectual battle, the need for self-improvement, and - most importantly! - that this was a fight that didn’t result in gunfire or people being put in bodybags. But we can’t have that in our fighting game! We can’t have people thinking, because that’s not the kind of game we have, it’s left-click-shoot out here on the Rift or in the cards. So now we have a woman with plant powers bombing Piltover, and a policewoman kicking down doors and opening fire. And she’s right there, in Caitlyn’s new splash art, within reaching distance of the sheriff!

She’s right there! In hot pink with a flower in her fucking hair! And Caitlyn doesn’t even notice? Looks like one of my major gripes about Caitlyn being updated - Incompetence - is rearing its ugly head. She cannot even see someone not five feet from her. Oooh, look out, Piltover, no-one can figure out why this single eco-terrorist is causing problems for years, but Caitlyn will figure it out! With her gun! Because she’s a cop with a gun, and cops with guns never cause more problems than they solve, right?

Look... I know. I know she’s not my character. I know that everything I’ve done is fan-interpretation. But I’ve worked for so long and hard and done so much research, and things I’ve done have even been seen by - and used by! - the company itself (not just in the ‘oh what a coincidence’ sense, either, I know my link on Hextech as a form of magic made it to several of the writers, some of whom later contacted me). I might be too jaded by all the disappointment to take it personally anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen. We know Riot Games could be and should be better. So many people in this community - and people who have since moved on - put so much love and effort into the characters and the world, building up from scraps and guesswork and extrapolation. It wasn’t our world, but we enjoyed playing in it. We enjoyed struggling in it, because it pushed us to be thoughtful, creative, to be engaged and interested. Critical Theory doesn’t have to be negative... but this recent update to Caitlyn’s character and to Piltover as a whole is... it’s a step backwards. They’ve gone for the ‘ooh isn’t this gritty and dark’ approach, and swept away so much of what made the original so interesting, creative, engaging to begin with. They’d rather have controversy than people genuinely enjoying the thing that they’re opening their wallet for.

Caitlyn was a detective who focused on responsibility, intellectualism, and care. What she is now is not the same Caitlyn they started with, and expresses a set of values that I do not support. This blog will continue to be focusing on the old lore, on what Piltover has been and what it should be: a hopeful utopia, a place for people to grow and be responsible and thoughtful and mindful of their place on the world stage. It’s not going to be perfect, but there’s hope, and there’s people here who want the world, and everyone in it, to be better than it is. I hope you join me, no matter who you are.

#oops I essayed again #Not Your Piltover #caitlyn #riot please #character development #piltover

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patton-cake · 3 years

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Past adventures and future experiences

Pairings: Logicality and very background Anaroceit, it's only mentioned.

Summary: The Christmas ball, a magical high school experience. At least that’s what it’s supposed to be. Patton knows that he has to ask Logan soon or else he might be too late. You know what? Forget it. There’s no way that Logan would want to be his date.

Word count: 3635

Additional information: Merry Christmas Gabi! I had the honour to be your Secret Santa this year and I really hope that you're not disappointed with that! Anyway, I love you and I hope that you'll like my gift :D @irritating-lady-knight

~The Story~

Books had always been Patton's escape from this repetitive world. Sure, there were a lot of good things in the world and he certainly wasn't complaining, but sometimes it just feels nice to be somewhere else you know? To be away from your annoying teachers, who think that 25 homework assignments due next week is completely reasonable. To be away from that one feeling you get when you think that you've finished everything, but you're not 100% sure, and to be away from himself for once.

That's why Patton started to read.

When he was younger, his mom used to take him to the library every Tuesday afternoon. They would spend hours reading together about brave princes who saved princesses ("But what if I want to save a prince instead of a princess mama?" "You can save whoever you want Mon Étoile"), they learned about the most beautiful creatures, and one day, they met one of Patton's future best friends.

Logan would teach him everything he had learned about the stars and their different constellations, the planets and their little baby moons ("They're not their children Patton.") And in return, Patton would read him his favourite stories and take him on thrilling adventures.

Unfortunately, the boys grew older and with becoming older, came more responsibilities. School wasn't much of a problem for the two friends. They both enjoy learning and Patton even made a new friend (who he immediately introduced to Logan, because the two were and always will be a package deal).

At the first sight, you would think that someone like Virgil would never become friends with someone like Patton. His dark black hair with faint purple dye, dark lether jacket decorated with punk rock pins and spiky boots have scared off a lot of people, but not Patton. Instead of running away, Patton basically adopted him.

Don't worry! He and Logan are still best friends! Patton has two hands and a lot of room in his heart, especially for someone like Logan.

"Thinking about Nerd number 1 again huh?" Patton shook his head and blinked a few times, before completely zoning back into reality. Oh right, school. Virgil laughed at Patton's 'angry' glare and pointed behind him.

"Good news Pattycake, your sweetheart is coming this way."

Patton poked his side and grumbled "He's not my sweetheart!"

With a look of disbelief, Virgil stared at his best friend and rolled his eyes. "You two are basically married already! Roman and I have a bet that you two got married years ago somewhere in France, because that's totally the type of romantic Logan would pick, but just didn't invite us to the wedding."

"If you keep bullying me then no, I won't invite you to the wedding!" Patton tried to hold back his laughter, but failed completely.

"So there is going to be a wedding??"

Before Patton could react, he heard a quiet voice calling his name.

"Salutations Patton, Virgil. I hope your day has been satisfactory so far." Logan had a slight blush on his face and was anxiously fidgeting with his tie.

"Goodmorning Lo! We saved you a seat!"

A small smile appeared on Logan's face as he sat down next to Patton.

"So mr. and mr. Nerd, did you two already hear about the nightmare that is the Christmas ball?"

Oh right. The Christmas ball. The event of the year.

The Christmas ball was this party for everyone in their last year. It was a sort of last goodbye before they graduated. Basically their school just took prom and slapped a different name on it to feel special and creative.

"Yeay! I bet that you, Janus and Roman are going together huh?" Patton winked at him and gave him a bright smile. He had been so happy for his friend when he and Roman finally got together and even happier when later Janus got added to the relationship. They were really adorable with the three of them.

"Mhm! Roman wanted to do some big promposal, but fortunately for us, Janus managed to talk him out of it. But how about you Logan? Anyone you wanna ask?"

Oh gosh Patton was going to kill Virgil. His friend knew that he wanted to ask Logan. In fact, he had tried to ask him like 5 times already, but every time he was about to pop the question, his anxiety took over and he asked some other random thing. This had lead him to asking Logan about the way ducks keep floating, their math homework and random facts about ladybugs instead. Patton truly was hopeless.

"Logan? Are you blushing? Now you gotta tell!" Virgil leaned over the table with a mischievous smile on his face.

"I did no such thing, but yes, I suppose there is someone I'd like to go with." Unfortunately for Logan, his face only turned darker red, which made Virgil laugh harder.

"Tell us more Logan!! Come on!" Virgil gently poked Logan's arm and leaned on his elbows, interrogating Logan,

"Well.. They're the most wonderful person in the world and I could not imagine my life without them, but I'm not telling you their name, not until I've asked them."

"Come on Lo! You can trust us! Right Patt? Patton? Everything okay?" His voice suddenly turned concerned when he looked at Patton, who was fidgeting with his necklace and looking at his hands, a sad smile on his face.

"Yeay, I'm fine," he grapped his backpack and stood up, "I'm gonna go to my next class, see you later guys."

In all honesty, Patton wasn't fine. He had failed to ask Logan to the prom and now he was too late. Gosh he was pathetic. He felt a few teardrops falling down his face as he walked outside. Patton desperately needed to get his mind off of everything, so he went to the place he always went when he was sad. The magic treehouse.

When they were younger, Logan and Patton had wanted to go on their own adventure. They tried to discover the hidden secrets from their library (the only thing they found was that the librarian was secretly dating ms. Williams. Patton still got shivers when he thought about that), they practised their sword fighting skills, discovered that Logan shouldn't be trusted with sharp objects and searched for hidden treasures in their backyard.

One day, after getting complaints from ms, Williams, their parents decided that they should have their own little place, somewhere where they didn't disturb other people. Logan and Patton had spent all summer building their treehouse together. Of course that meant that their parents build it and that they had decorated it with fancy fairy lights.

Patton smiled when he reached his backyard. The magic tree was located in the little private forest, behind their yard and right now, it looked absolutely magical. It had started snowing a few days ago so the whole scenery was covered in a little layer of white snow.

He carefully climbed up the ladder and entered the treehouse. Patton looked around him with a soft smile on his face, nothing had changed in their secret hideout. The shelves were covered with books, the fairy lights were still covering almost the entire ceiling and on the walls hang multiple drawings of their great adventures.

A chuckle escaped Patton as he looked through their drawings. Most of them were from when they were 9. He could barely identify the two blue stickman figures as Logan and him wearing their crowns. Logan always said that one day, he and Patton would become mighty rulers of their own library kingdom. They would have flying books and magical flowers that changed colours.

Patton's heart broke a little when he thought about that. Logan always claimed that they'd be together forever, Patton knew that they had only been children at the time, but still, he couldn't help but feel heartbroken. He'll get over it eventually, Patton would be happy for Logan and his date of course, but it still hurt.

Suddenly, his phone started to beep and he could hear the Sherlock theme song starting to play. Logan was calling him. Patton turned his phone off and sunk down to the floor. Class had started half an hour ago and here he was, crying in his childhood treehouse. How pathetic.

After a while, Patton's breathing had become steady again and he walked towards the bookshelves. A shiver spread over his body and he finally began to realise exactly how cold it was in the treehouse. Patton picked up the first book and started to read. Stories had always cheered him up a bit.

"I think that I remember that one."

Patton snapped his head towards Logan and let out a deep breath.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Patton knew that he was being hypocrite but at this moment, he couldn't really care about that.

"As should you." Logan sat down next to Patton, taking in the their treehouse. "Nothing has changed here, has it? Do you remember when we were 11 and those bullies threatened me on the playground?" Logan chuckled softly and looked at their drawings, "We spend all day hiding here, drawing together."

Patton too, let out a soft laugh and looked at his hands, keeping his head low.

"Wasn't that the day we made the first drafts for our little kingdom? You know? With the weird roses and the unrealistic inhabitants?"

"Hey! Don't you dare insult Regno Libri like that!" Logan exclaimed. He tried to keep a serious face, but couldn't help but laugh. Patton giggled softly and finally looked Logan in his eyes.

"I'm sorry if I worried you Logan... I just needed some time for myself, I'll be fine."

Logan smiled soflty and took Patton's hand, gently fidgeting with his fingers.

"You're my best friend Patton, I know when something is bothering you. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but just know that Virgil and I are here to help you okay? We care about you." He squeezed Patton's hand and moved closer so there sides were touching.

"I know Logan, thanks.." He slightly blushed at their intertwining hands and leaned onto Logan's shoulder. Physical touch had always been the best solution to cheer Patton up and especially if Logan was providing that touch. Logan would never admit it, but he secretly was a great hugger.

After a few minutes, Logan gently let go of Patton's hand and put his arm around Patton's shoulders instead, carefully pulling him closer. He gently stroked his hands through Patton's curls, softly twirling them around his fingers before speaking up again,

"Patton? There is something I'd like to ask you.." Logan smiled down at his friend with a loving gaze,

"I know that this might not be the most perfect time to ask, but do you might want to be my date to the Christmas ball? And perhaps we can try to become Promkings? Instead of rulers? Do you remember that?"

Wait

What?

Patton's thoughts zoned out and he looked at Logan with a shocked look on his face. Did.. did Logan actually asked him to prom?

"Patton? I- you don't have to, I understand if you don't see me that way, if you don't like me like that but-"

"Logan, please don't doubt yourself that much."

And with that, he kissed him. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was everything they needed. The kiss was sweet and gentle and it tasted a bit like vanilla, Patton couldn't get enough off it.

When Patton pulled away and looked up at Logan he giggled a bit. His (boy)friend (?) had a dazy smile on his face and his cheeks were bright red. After a few seconds, he spoke up

"I- you- is that a yes?"

Patton chuckled at the normally composed and stoic boy and kissed his cheek,

"Yes Logan, I'd love to be your date to the Christmas Ball." Patton leaned his head back onto Logan's shoulder and nuzzeld his cheek gently, taking in everything around them.

He had just kissed Logan

Patton had just kissed Logan

And it was perfect

After what felt like hours, Logan kissed Patton's forehead and carefully stood up. He reached out a hand to help Patton and linked there hands together,

"I think it's time to return, Virgil must be really worried." Patton let out a yawn and leaned into Logan's embrace,

"You're probably right."

And yeay, Logan had been right

"Where the hell were you Patton? I was so worried! Are you okay? Why did you leave and- Are.. are you two holding hands?" Virgil waved around with his arms, face full of worry. But when he saw Logan's loving gaze at Patton, something in him shifted. A soft smile appeared on his face and he smirked down at the two.

Patton looked down at their hands and blushed soflty. He loved Virgil, he really did and it was so funny to see him turn into this overprotective mother hen. Eventhough Virgil liked to act like he didn't care about other people, Patton knew how much of a softy he actually was.

"So when's the wedding?"

Logan almost choked on air.

It had only taken a few days before the entire city was covered in snow. Patton could hear the white crystals crunch under his feet as he walked through the park close to his house. Virgil and Patton had agreed to meet up a few hours before the Christmas ball was supposed to start. He checked his phone when he arrived at the old oak tree. The old oak tree had been in the park for ages, hence the nickname. Patton could remember being a little boy and trying to climb all the way to the top of the tree, even though Logan would always warn him that he could fall down and break his legs. Which he eventually did. Well, not both of his legs. Patton had only broken his left ankle, but he got a lolly from the nice nurse lady so he was fine. Giggling at the memory of Logan’s concern, Patton unlocked his phone to check the time. Five minutes until Virgil would arrive.

Just when Patton was about to send Virgil a message, letting him know that he had arrived, Patton saw something flying towards him before said thing hit the ground with a muffled sound.

“Damn that was supposed to hit you!” Patton turned around a saw a big bundle of purple coming his way. The purple blob tried hard to keep his balance on the slippery snow as it made it’s way to the tree. “Did it scare you?” It’s voice was slightly muffled by a fluffy scarf but Patton could still recognize the bright purple hair that always looked like an absolute mess.

“Oh I was terrified” Patton rolled his eyes while simultaneously trying to contain his laughter. Virgil scoffed and lightly hit Patton’s arm.

“Mission completed then I guess, but it’s not like you could have done it bette-“

Before Virgil could even finish his sentence, a cold snowball flew into his face. He quickly shook all the snow off of himself and looked at Patton who had a really sweet and innocent smile on his face

“Oh you bastard, it’s on” Virgil quietly mumbled to himself and began to collect more snow.

“What did you say Virgy? You looked like you needed a little cool down time!” and yeay it was really no ones fault besides himself when Patton too, got hit by a snowball right in his face.

A lot of snowballs later, Virgil walked up to his friend with his hands high up in the sky, slightly shivering from the cold.

“You won okay, I give up. I’m literally freezing.” Patton took this opportunity to hug Virgil around his waist and nuzzle close.

“Alright, alright we get it, you love hugs. Now come let’s get some hot chocolate or something. We deserve it after this intense battle.”

Patton nodded in Virgil’s chest and together the tried to find their balance while walking out of the park.

When the two friends walked into Patton’s house, they were met with an overwhelming smell of gingerbread and apple-pie. Which made sense because Patton’s parent had been baking Christmas treats for their family this morning.

“You mind if I grab one?” Virgil held up one of the chocolate chip cookies and ploffed down on one of the chairs in the living room. He took a bite when Patton motioned that he could eat it and let out a small noise of contentment.

“Your suit arrived last week right?” Patton nodded and Virgil continued, “Have you tried it on yet?”

Patton nodded again and smiled brightly at Virgil

“It fitted perfectly! I really hope that Lo will like it too”

He hugged himself anxiously and Virgil stood up to wrap him into a strong embrace

“Hey it’s okay Pat. Your boyfriend absolutely adores you. Believe me, if it would have taken you two any longer to get together I would have sued Logan, because he just couldn’t shut up about how handsome you looked and how he would just skip the prom because he couldn’t ask you.”

Patton giggled and blushed slightly

“And besides, if Logan does somehow decide to hurt you in any way or form, I will gladly kill him for you!” Patton lightly hit Virgil’s arm before looking up with his bright smile returned on his face.

“Thanks Virgil.”

After Patton changed into his light blue suit and Virgil had eaten more chocolate chip cookies, he also finally decided to put on his indigo purple suit with bright red and golden bracelets to match his boyfriends. Logan and Patton had agreed to wear matching ties, which meant that Patton was wearing a beautiful navy-blue necktie.

He triple checked if he had all of his stuff, including his phone, keys and if Virgil was ready, when he suddenly heard a soft knock on his door. With a mischievous smirk, Virgil walked up to the door and opened it slightly, leaning in the doorway.

"Hello Logan"

"Salutations Virgil, is something wrong?" Patton couldn't see Logan but he could identify the slight shake in his voice as anxiety.

"I don't know Logan. Tell me, are you going to dance with Patton tonight? Bring him some pretty flowers? Give him everything he deserves and more?" He could hear Logan clear his throat and Patton was sure that he was anxiously fidgeting with his necktie by now. Logan always did that when he was nervous.

"If Patton wants to dance tonight then I'll gladly join him, I did indeed bring him a flower and believe me, I will try to do anything I can to make him happy." Patton almost melted at the soft adoration in Logan's voice and he pushed Virgil out of the doorway.

"Virgil! Stop that! You're bullying the poor thing. I'm sure that Logan will be a true gentleman, as will I." Patton giggled at Virgil when he rolled his eyes and then turned back to face his boyfriend.

"Hi Logan," Patton whispered breathlessly, "you look absolutely amazing"

Logan, who looked equally as breathless, blushed slightly and whispered back with a soft voice "As do you Sunshine, as do you."

He then held his hand out and presented Patton a singular light blue and slightly bowed

"For you my love" Logan smirked up at Patton and chuckled softly.

"Move your domestic display elsewhere you nerds. This is too nauseating." Virgil smiled softly down at Patton and hugged him quickly before Logan took Patton's hand to escort him to his car.

The night sky was filled with stars when the two boys finally arrived at the oh so dreaded Christmas ball. Well, of course the ball wasn't that dreaded anymore. Patton wondered if anything could be dreadful when Logan was there by his side.

"Your mind is lost in space Sunshine, what is troubling you?" Logan intertwined their fingers and gently rubbed his thumb over Patton's hand to soothe him.

"Nothing's wrong Starlight, everything is perfect. Absolutely perfect." The honesty in Patton's voice made Logan blush and together, they entered the ballroom.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by hundreds of fake snowflake decorations. The fairy lights gave the room an enchanting atmosphere and because it was Christmas, in the corner of the room stood an eight feet tall Christmas tree, decorated with the most beautiful ornaments. It looked magical

"Well I did promised a dance didn't I?" Patton turned around to face Logan and saw that his boyfriend was holding out his hand for him.

"We don't want to disappoint Virgil now do we?" He giggled as he happily accepted Logan's invitation and followed him to the dancefloor.

The music started to play and Patton could feel Logan's hands gently wrapped around his waist. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the other people entering the dancefloor, but Patton was too distracted at this moment. Blue. Beautiful dark blue. The only thing Patton noticed was how the lights reflected into Logan dark blue eyes, making him truly look magical.

"..Logan" Patton slightly cringed at the crack in his voice, but Logan didn't seem to notice

"Patton?" His boyfriend looked at him with a confused smile and a lot of admiration in his eyes.

"I love you"

"Well that's perfect Patton, do you want to know why?" Logan blushed while still keeping a smirk on his face leading them through their dance. He continued when Patton nodded,

"Because I love you too."

The two swayed the night away, living in their own private bubble. It was just the two of them and it was absolutely perfect.

#logan sanders #patton x logan #logicality #logan x patton #long post #patton sanders #virgil sanders #anaroceit #(mentioned)#pattoncake writes #Gosh I'm nervous about this one #I really hope that you like it Gabbee #This is my longest fic so far

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us.

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care.

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role.

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight.

Bring it on.

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention.

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his.

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won.

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night.

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal.

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.”

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?”

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal.

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?”

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up.

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet.

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel.

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.”

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress.

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually.

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks.

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another.

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants.

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him.

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job.

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger.

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine. We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps.

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other.

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck.

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

#Henry Cavill #Smut #Henry Cavill Smut #Henry Cavill Fic #Henry Cavill x OFC #Henry cavill fanfic #Fanfic #henrycavillsmut #henrycavillfanfic #henrycavillxofc #henrycavillfic

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shaheenarnitipsyart · 3 years

Text

Whirling Birds

This is the 10th time (what, seriously!?) joining @flashfictionfridayofficial ! Thank you again for the creative theme! This story might be a bit difficult to understand so here is the context. Two characters met in the past, then they meet again in the present. It’s a sort of reincarnation story basically, and it sets in Camden Market in London, the place I love. And I just want to say big thanks to FFF team and those who have read my stories. it means a lot to me! Hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 1019

T/W: nightmare, flashback

Ray (He/Him): warrior (past), student & part-time worker at bakery (present)

Hrafn(They/Them): mage (past), kid in early teenage (present)

This nightmare again... Ray woke up in tears in the middle of the night. Despite the chilly autumn air slipping into the bedroom, he was sweating heavily from head to toe. He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down. He looked at his arms and hands carefully. No wound, no cut, just smooth as always. Usually, the beginning of the nightmare faded away as he woke up. But he remembered the very last part vividly.

In the dream, he was equipped with heavy armour and carrying an empty scabbard. His chainmail was torn apart, and he could see the blood-stained sleeves of the tunic. He was on his knees, unable to move at all. His own body felt so heavy and alien to him. The world flared up, and the roaring wind deafened his ears. Among the fire and turbulence, he could hear screams and battle cries. The end is near, he thought. The end of what, though? His own life, or the world itself? He didn't care about it anymore. His mind was about to go blank. Then something fell on him at lightning speed. At first, he thought it was a shower of black arrows. He shut his eyes firmly. However, the stinging pain he expected never came. Instead, something like mist embraced him tenderly. He could feel that all of his wounds were healing by the soft touch of feathers. Feathers? What!? He opened his eyes in surprise and found a pale face with shining dark eyes just a few inches away from his own. That person's raven-black hair was blowing in the hot gust. They reached out to him and shielded him from the heat and blast with their thick black mantle. 'It's alright, hold on to me close.' They whispered. Their voice was so subtle, yet it echoed like a choir's hymns in Ray's head. He leaned forward and grabbed the wings, which were a mantle a moment ago. The pale face smiled gently. Oh, why your smile made me so sad? Oh no, no, I know what is going to happen. I must not let my hands go, I MUST NOT! Not this time! His chest felt so tight, and tears started rolling down his dusty face. But the winged person broke the eye contact and looked up. Then they uttered some words he could not understand. A sudden strong blast nearly blew him away, but he clung to the person with all his strength left in him. Then calmness washed over him. He slowly opened his eyes again. The fierce fire was all gone, so was the burning heat. He was in the middle of the whirling dark feathers - the eye of the black cyclone, where everything was unbelievably quiet and still. And he looked at a beautiful, yet fragile smile slowly collapsed in the air. No, no, no!! As the wind calmed down, the face completely faded away. Ray could hear his fellow warriors approaching in haste, shouting in joy. 'Everything was restored! Even the burnt forest! And look my wounds, it completely healed!' 'Mine, too! Oh my, my lost horse is coming back to me!' But Ray could not stand up. He knew that winged person saved him, and cleansed the blood-soaked battlefield by using their own source of life. He just knew it.

Ray made a cup of coffee and grabbed his longboard. Skateboarding was the best way to reset his tangled mind. 'Ok, I still got half an hour till I gotta head out to work. All good!' The sky was clear, and the rising sun was turning the horizon gold. Ray worked at a local bakery, so he had to get up very early sometimes. But that meant he could finish work in the early afternoon. A visit to the nearby street market after work was one of his favourite things to do. He loved the hustle and bustle of the street market and the smell of exotic street foods. 'But I guess I'm gonna go to the canal today.' He murmured to himself. There was a charming canal running through the market area, and there were many colourful canal boats moored alongside the waterfront walk. After work, he walked down the path leading to the canal with his longboard in one arm and a bag of freshly baked bread in the other. And then, he saw a strange graffiti on the brick wall by the canal. It was a chalk art of hundreds of whirling birds. As he traced the silhouette of the birds with his eyes, he reached a skinny figure at the edge of the brick wall. A boy, or a girl, he couldn't tell. But their raven black hair looked somewhat familiar. Without realising, he approached the young artist who was mindlessly standing in front of their drawing. 'Hey, you got such a talent! This graffiti is amazing. You drew it all by yourself?' They looked at him, totally caught off guard. They widened their eyes. Whoa, what beautiful eyes this kid has! But their eyes give an impression that they belong to a much older person for some reason... He thought. But before the raven-haired kid answered, some cyclists shouted at them from behind. 'Oy! Watch out, get out of our way!' Ray managed to catch the raven-haired kid in his arms and jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the passing cyclists. Both of them fell to the ground. 'Geez, damn rude cyclists! Did you get hurt? Are you OK?' Ray looked at the pale face, just a few inches away from his own. Their eyes met. He felt like being hit by a thunderbolt. He pulled them closer as if they might vanish otherwise. 'Have we met before...?' Then Ray realised how silly it sounded. But the raven-haired kid gently smiled in return. 'I can smell something nice!' They suddenly said as they hopped up. 'Oh, yes! That's my lunch. Hey, why don't you have some freshly baked baguettes? It's my treat!' Ray asked, and the kid smiled again. Hand in hand, they started walking towards the bright side.

#fff113 #flash fic friday #reincarnation #middle ages #camden #regents canal #hrafn #nightmare #kind of happy ending

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idontmeantosoundrudebut · 3 years

Text

Many of Horror (Chapter one: This secret goodbye)

Fandom - How to train your dragon (movie franchise)

Ship - Eretlout (+ background relationships)

Wordcount - 3748 words

Fanfic summary - Moving on is hard, especially from something that doesn’t want to be forgotten. But it’s easier when you have someone with you who understands that mind-scarring agony, it’s easier when someone will hold you in the dark when all the monsters come out to play, it’s easier when you’re loved. But Eret is going overseas and Snotlout is left alone in a cold bed.

The dream is back and he feels sick. Sick in the head. (I really can’t think of a good summary for this, so sorry my dudes)

Tags/Warnings for this chapter - Mentions of past child abuse

So I have yet to finish this Fic yet but I’m just so excited to show it to yall that i just had to give you a little teaser!!! This fic takes place a year after HTTYD3 but the dragons never leave and Stoick never died because Hiccup deserved a whole family for more than one day (Dreamworks, i’m talking to you asshole)!

Also please check out The colour of friendship by Sarahenany and The colour of family by Thurdsday26 on the Archive because it they are big inspirations for this fic and if you love Spitelout bashing and Snotlout whump and found family then, oh boy, that is truly the jackpot of all Snotlout whump fics! Also, the title of this fic is based on the song Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro and this to the first like three lines and you’ll understand why!

Please enjoy and give me any feedback that you have, negative or positive, do not hold back bitches!!!! Haha lol bruh

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Eret is leaving today, but he'll be back in a few weeks, a month maximum if the summer storms keep at bay (Ruffnut prayed briefly to Thor before bed last night. She doesn't know why; it was an impulse thing). He, along with six other crewmates, will be sailing far up north to the port-island he once called home to establish a trading route for Berk and to perhaps arrange a meeting between Chief Stoick and the chief of his native village. The Northmen are good people, Eret had reassured during a council a week back, who've long been held under the sole of Drago's boot and will gladly reward those who levered that pressure with both miscellaneous goods and a long-lasting alliance.

The only problem with this grand adventure is that they'll have to travel dragon-less.

The Northmen too have been terrorised by dragons for generations and they will not hesitate to net, bludgeon, and flay the first dragon they see, even if said dragon has a rider on their back. Act first and ask later kind of folk, a mindset which Ruffnut is very familiar with. Eret predicts that the concept of living with dragons in peace and harmony is one his people will be suspicious of for a time, but he assures that they'll warm up to it eventually. So, the first few trips will be dragon-less and slowly they'll weasel their Berkian values in, a very cunning plan indeed if Ruff didn't say so herself.

So today is the day of departure and she's on her way to the docks for the send-off, alone for a change. Tuffnut, eager to be out the house and tired of waiting for her to finish braiding her hair, had nabbed Barf and Belch and left her on her lonesome to walk. At first, she'd been peeved to all Hel, rightfully so, muttering to herself about how easier life would be without her dolt of a twin till she remembered just how peaceful, well, peace was. As vexing as Tuff is, Ruff cannot deny her sibling love for him, but she also cannot deny the simple serene beauty of silence.

She's striding down a street of huts, the docks insight, when she hears a terribly familiar voice.

"You better be back in two weeks, if you're not, I'm coming after you,"

Snotlout.

Ruff pauses mid-stride and takes a step back, looking into a narrow alleyway between two huts. She steps closer and presses herself against the left hut wall, slyly peeking her head out to gaze searchingly into the shadowed alley where she'd definitely heard Snotlout's voice. As mad as she is (and she is mad), she isn't to the point of hearing imaginary voices in the shadows (not for a few years, at least).

There. Stuck between a wall and a bulky silhouette, is the short and distinctive shadow of Snotlout Jorgensen. The figure Snotlout is pressed against lets out a hushed laugh, head bowing and if wasn't for that laugh, she'd definitely be able to identify him solely for the dark outline of his facial profile.

Eret, Son of Eret.

Oh, this... This is interesting, very interesting indeed.

"No promises, we might have to delay returning if we see a storm on the horizon," Eret informs and Snotlout makes a displeased snort, to which Eret adds in response, "But if we don't then, we'll be back as soon as we can. Snotlout, you won't even know I've left,"

"It already feels like you've left me," Snotlout murmurs, head hung low, and it catches Ruffnut by surprise, that statement because it's such a vulnerable thing for Snotlout to say and the way he says it, quiet and anxious, is so alien to her.

The use of the word "me" too, makes her mind turn and burn with theories because there is something so very deep in the small, added word. She doesn't know what yet, but there is something painfully human about it.

Ruff watches the shadowed duo, transfixed as Eret lifts a hand to Snotlout's chin, tipping his head up so that they are looking at each other.

It's such an abnormal gesture for her to witness, especially between two people with whom she's never associated such tenderness before.

Eret has always been this tall, handsome, foreign stranger with a silky voice and a self-assured walk, who is as handy with a sword as he is on a boat, who's always there to help and give back to the people who gave him a better life. Snotlout has always been this hot-headed, confident loudmouth who is way too short to be as brave as he is and is way too good at singing for Ruff to admit, who's full of unyielding loyalty and howling laughter. But most importantly, they hate each other.

Or, now that she thinks of it, they did hate each other.

The last few months have been lacking the usual rivalry between Snotlout and Eret and she doesn't know why it's only hitting her now. At some point, they two of them became friends and she's pretty sure she isn't the only one who hasn't noticed, which is so peculiar because she, and the others, have seen the two of them hanging out at the sawmill and flying together at dusk to light the torches. Gods, they drank with each other last night and there hadn't been a single crass word spoken. When did this happen? She and the rest of Berk have gone blind!

"Snotlout, I'll be back. Soon. I can't promise you when, but I'll be back, and next time I go north, you can come with me," Eret assures, and though Ruff can't see Snotlout's features, she can feel the atmosphere lifting and hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah?" There is something so hopeful and childish in the way he breathes that word, something that tugs at Ruff's heartstrings.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can convince Hiccup to spare you of your very honourable duties for a few weeks,"

"Hey, shut up!" Snotlout's foot jerks out sharply to jab Eret in the ankle, the former laughing breathlessly in response, "My work is honourable, okay? Someone has to test all those crazy weapons Hiccup cooks up and I'm the only man for the job, no one else is as brave as I am," He exclaims, all confident and cocky and familiar to Ruffnut.

"You're sure right about that," Eret says as he again raises his hand and, this time, it comes in contact with Snotlout's cheek, she can see the faint movement of his thumb smoothing over the skin beneath his eye. His voice is awfully soft with a terrible fondness that Ruffnut sometimes hears in Hiccup's voice when he speaks about Astrid or vice versa, it's a tone that she automatically links up to people who are fiercely in love.

Oh, Freya, they're in love.

"You gotta head down to the docks, Eret, you'll be late to leave... or whatever," Again, that insecure whisper is back and by Gods, it sounds so brittle and shaky that Ruff almost considers the thought that Snotlout might be crying.

She would be if she was about to be separated from her lover for an unknown amount of time, Ruff ain't afraid to admit that, but if Snotlout is afraid of anything, it's expressing feelings and emotions (He's afraid of proving he's human, proving he's weak). But then again, maybe it's easier for Snotlout to air out his inner thoughts in front of Eret because, well, they're in love and to be so intimate with someone, they're eventually going to see all the ugly parts that you hide beneath the pretty façade. Eret has probably seen the old insecurity they all know that still lurks deep inside Snotlout, raw and unfiltered, a thing from his youth that made him angry and afraid, a thing that was just as damaging as the scars on his flesh.

Ruffnut, nor anyone else on Berk, will ever forgive Spitelout for what he did to Snotlout. She will gladly say that the day he was exiled was the best day of her life and she will not be alone in the statement. Cruel, merciless, cold-blooded bastard deserved to be Blood-eagled if you ask Ruff and Tuff (probably Hiccup too, no one was more enraged than he was.)

(Ruff has never been afraid of Hiccup, except for once. He's far too lanky, too merciful, too kind, to be a scary guy. But that day, when Snotlout had lifted his tunic in the clubhouse and revealed the ivory scars that were striped across his back and chest, she'd taken a step back at the sight of the inferno that had kindled in his eyes, at the sudden look of mercilessness that had steeled his features, at the trembling fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a man ready to kill, like a man ready to burn then world to the ground, like a man ready to give it all up just for revenge. She was afraid of him that day. So, so afraid that she had nightmares about him for days afterwards.)

"I'll be a bit late, the lads won't mind," Eret says lowly, drawing Ruffnut from her walk-in memory-lane, and she feels her heart tug as he bows his head to press against Snotlout's, "I'll stay here. With you,"

Forehead touching, especially in Viking culture, is the tenderest way to touch the ones who mean dearest to you. Be it a lover, a blood-relative, a shield-brother, anyone who is buried deep in your heart. And here, in the shadows of an alley, hidden and quiet like a forbidden dream, two people hold each other. Soon, they will have to let go and isn't that the most heart-breaking thing? Letting go?

Her heart feels too big for her chest and she almost feels like a changed person by witnessing this, witnessing something she was never meant to see. Will love be like this for her too? Terribly tender and awfully soft? She doesn't know, Gods, she shouldn't be here.

Ruff tries to drag herself back but she's like a moth to a flame, unable to pull herself away from this blindingly beautiful display of love, so raw, so real. She never imaged Snotlout to fall so easily to soft caresses, but of course, he would. It is always our deepest wants that will bring us to our knees and all Snotlout has ever wanted is love, a gentle hand, a place to bury his heart.

They share a deep and long kiss. It makes her feel lonely and she doesn't know why. They part, breathing on each other's lips and holding each other tightly because they know, they know, they have to let go any moment. Their foreheads are still touching.

"Promise me," Snotlout whispers and she sees the silhouette of his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, "promise me you'll come back. To me. Eret, promise you'll come ba-"

A quick but meaningful kiss quietens Snotlout's desperate pleas and Ruffnut has never heard him beg before, not like that, not like he's afraid that Ragnarök is about to fall upon them. Eret cradles Snotlout's face with his large hands. They are so close, they've almost become one shadow.

"I promise you, Snotlout," Eret vows, quiet but vehement, his lips brushing against Snotlout's, "I promise that I will come back to you,"

Another kiss is shared between them, sealing the oath that Eret has made and therefore making it unbreakable. Eret will return, he has to, and Ruff doesn't know what will happen if he doesn't. Something tragic, something unbearable to watch, something she can't allow to happen. She will not see Snotlout ruined again. So, she promises herself that if Eret does not return, she'll fly herself up to Valhalla, drag him back to Berk and the Gods best keep themselves to themselves and not get in the way of her mission, lest the know the true wrath of a Thorston woman.

"Come on, before Hiccup starts a search party," Snotlout says, voice stronger now that the promise of returning has been made, "Selkie's gonna want a proper goodbye too or she's gonna follow you the whole way,"

Eret nods in agreement and peeks his head out of the alleyway, looking up and down the street in search of any unwanted bystanders. In the sunlight, his eyes glitter amber and Ruffnut can make out his hand, large and golden, curled around Snotlout's.

"You sure you can handle her? I know that-"

"Gods, Eret, she's the timidest Thunderdrum I've ever seen! If I can handle Hookfang and a borderline psychotic Terror, among other things, then she's going to be a piece of cake," He reassures, almost sounding offended, and Eret chuckles softly as he gives Snotlout a fond look.

Ruff watches them step out from the alley into the sunlit street, hands no longer intertwined. She can make out the red flush on Snotlout's cheeks and the faint wetness beneath his eyes, which he wipes away hastily. The two of them share a look, secret and quiet, lips curled into gentle smiles, fingers twitching with the longing to touch. Then, as sudden as lightning, the tender-faces fall away and they leave, together but still somehow so far apart. They enter the real world not as lovers, but as friends, as a secret waiting to reveal itself.

For a few moments, she stays where she is, staring into the unlikely place of a secret lovers' farewell. Who knew that a place like this, small and dark, would hold such a tragic and beautiful moment? Ruffnut feels a mixture of emotions, the biggest one being happiness because bless the Gods, Snotlout has found love and if anyone deserves it, it's him.

At the after ceremony of Hiccup and Astrid's wedding a year back, a drunk Snotlout had suddenly embraced her tight and long and said; I'm gonna be alone forever, Ruffy, but that's okay, I got you guys, so... I not really alone. And being just as drunk as he was, she'd laughed and poured him another drink, dancing with him till the sun came to steal the night. She didn't remember what he said till a few days after and it had filled up with such a fierce and sudden sadness that Tuffnut had dragged her home, demanding an explanation for the terrible look in her eyes.

That's the thing with a twin like Tuff, the second her mood changes, he can sense it like a hunting dog catching the scent of blood. She can do it too, but Tuff has never been one to hide his true feelings while she, similar to Snotlout, would rather avoid the conflict of talking sentiments (even with Tuff). Her brother has to drag it out of her most times, corner her and say stupidly melancholic stuff like;

I can smell it, sister. You're sad.

Tuffnut is a curse and blessing all at once and she wouldn't have it any other way.

But anyway, she's overjoyed to see Snotlout in love and loved, but she's also anxious about it. Anxious in a way an older sibling is over a younger sibling when they start to dabble in dangerous things, in things that can get them hurt. And if love is anything, it's dangerous. If love can do anything, it can get you hurt.

Snotlout has been hurt enough. Snotlout has endured and lived through torture and torment, through betrayal and loss, through things she can't imagine surviving. She will not see him hurt again, not by Eret, not by love, not by anything. He doesn't deserve it.

The others will also share her feelings when they discover this secret love story, that she is sure of. Especially Hiccup, who in the past few years has become like an older brother to Snotlout (like the same way that Stoick has become a father to him, the same way Valka has become a mother to him). He takes his new sibling occupation very seriously and it is comical, the wiser brother and the reckless brother always at odds but always there to protect each other.

There's a headache brewing in her temple. Gods, she's been thinking and overthinking again.

It'll be fine, she reassures herself, stepping away from the alley and making towards the docks, the Gods wouldn't curse them all with more bad fortune, would they?

It's probably the most stupid question she's ever thought, in hindsight.

When she gets to the docks, it's jam-packed with dragons and Vikings alike, friends and family saying farewell to the crew and wishing them good fortune on their journey. The sky is clear and blue, perfect for sailing, and Ruff concludes that she wasn't the only one begging Thor to keep his storms to himself.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to Tuffnut, dangling upside down from Belch's neck as he converses with a bemused Fishlegs. She's tempted to go over, but not yet, she has to do something first.

She quickly surveys the area, seeing one of the Berkian members of Eret's crew giving his vermilion Nadder a thorough farewell and a Northman kissing his Shield-maiden fiancé goodbye.

The Northmen, Eret included, were intrigued to see such wild and free women when they first came to Berk. Berkian women are hearty and frightening and hard to impress, daughters of wolves, bearers of warriors, the fiercest things on the battlefield.

So it had been a cultural shock to them, Eret had admitted one day, for their home only holds women who sew the clothes and make the food, who bear the children and tend to the house, who are quiet and timid and easily won over by a half-assed sonnet. Most marriages are arranged and many daughters are traded for land or gold, true love is a rarity to come by. Eret is proud of his home, but these are the parts he is ashamed of.

Astrid was the first woman Eret had ever seen to hold a weapon and he'd never met a woman as savage as Ruffnut before. Ruff will forever be proud that she was Eret's first taste of wildness.

There. She's found who she's looking for.

Eret kneels on one knee before Selkie, his beauty of Thunderdrum. She's orange like a sunset, pale and washed-out, with white flecks scattering her hide like parted clouds, matching her ivory belly, and Ruffnut has never seen a dragon with eyes that blue before. Selkie lets out an unhappy groan as she presses her face further into Eret's hand, eyes low in her grief as she listens to his whispers. Ruffnut can't make out what he's saying, but she's sure it's everything soft and reassuring.

Snotlout is close by, she notices, watching Eret with an open fondness. If Hiccup or Astrid walked by right now and took notice of the raw love in Snotlout's gaze, they would immediately know the truth. Clearly, she isn't the only one thinking this because Hookfang, stood beside his rider, nudges Snotlout with a warning hiss in the back of his throat. Never let it be said that Hookfang doesn't look out for Snotlout, he's ornery and easily distracted, but he makes up for it all with his loyalty.

Soon enough, the ship is ready and it's time to go. People gather along the docks and make their last hurried farewells. The drums begin and the chants of fortune echo across the waters, there's an intoxicating atmosphere permeating the air. Ruffnut hurries through the crowd, easily shoving unmoving folk to the deck in her haste because she has yet to speak with Eret. He's shaking hands with Chief Stoick and is about to go up the gang walk when she suddenly lunges herself at him.

"Ruffnut!" He gasps, surprised and clearly a bit uncomfortable, but he'll have to deal with her for the moment, "Thought you weren't going to- uh- show,"

"Course I was, idiot, and anyways-" She leans her head close to his ear and wraps a hand around his bicep, digging her sharp nails into his flesh threateningly as she whispers, "-I have to remind you to keep to that promise, Eret, son of Eret, I'm not going to have Snotlout hurt again. I was robbed of my revenge last time, I won't be again,"

When she pulls back, she flashes him a smile with too many teeth and bats her lashes with an intimidating gleam in her eyes. She's given this look to men who are now dead and it is Eret's choice if he wishes to be added to that mass grave. Eret stares back at her with shocked eyes, cheeks slightly red, and he clenches his jaw as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand over the raised welts on his bicep. The drums echo across the water and the chanting voices chase after in earnest. After a bewildering moment, Eret gives her an awkward but thankful smile and nods his head in understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind," He says and all the tension in his muscles seem to slip away as Ruffnut softens her menacing gaze on him, clapping him boisterously on the already injured shoulder.

"Atta boy," She cackles, shoving him up the gang walk as she calls after him, a throaty laugh colouring her words, "You better be back in two weeks, you son of an Eret, or I'm coming after you!"

To her delight, she hears him laugh back at her.

The ship finally departs from the dock, sail high and proud as its pushed by the encouraging wind and the waves part smoothly as the bow cuts through the water, sure and steady. Some of the crew hang off the ratlines, saying goodbye to Berk (for now), and Eret stands, tall and almost warrior-like, on the stern. The salt-touched wind carries his dark hair and the sun reflects off his dark eyes, they glitter with a sadness that Ruffnut wouldn't have noticed if she didn't know the things she knew. His smile is melancholic, Gods, he already looks homesick. He's looking at someone and she already knows who.

Turning to look at Snotlout, she can see that his hands are balled up into white-knuckled fists, that his smile is forced and pained, that his eyes shimmer with tears.

Snotlout has always hated goodbyes. Especially ones that aren't supposed to last. Because they always do.

#eretlout #Snotlout Jorgenson #snotlout whump #httyd fanfiction #httyd #eret son of eret #oh god this is a lot #i have so much planned for this fic

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 2

Info : A devestating carcrash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that,everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes - y/n

Warning: PTSD, memory loss, swearing, anxiety.

W/c: 2k

A/n: thank you to @cutie1365 for proofing and editing this chapter for me. If you haven’t read her work yet hope on over. Trust me, you’ll be addicted like I am 😂

You shut the overhead lights off to the empty coffee shop and grabbed your keys. Swinging your backpack onto one shoulder you crossed the room. You reached for the door but a sudden shuffling caught your attention. You looked back at the dark shop one last time and felt your stomach sink. Two dark figures sat at one of the tables in the far corner. You dropped your keys and a scream fell out of your mouth.

"What the actual- oh my fuck!" You blurted, grabbing your chest and trying to calm yourself. They didn't seem nearly as startled as you were, sat in the dark unmoving, like statues.

Taking a deep breath you tried to steady your voice "I'm sorry, I didn't see you guys there... Uh- we closed about 15 minutes ago, so..." You spoke as calmly as you could. When they didn't respond, or even move, you continued "I gotta' ask you guys to leave now." Still, nothing. Finally the smaller figure stood, causing you to take a clumsy step back, tripping a little over your feet as you did so. As she stood the moonlight illuminated their face. It was the same redheaded woman from before.

"Why don't you come take a seat, y/n." The woman spoke. Her voice surprised you. She was small in stature but her words came out sleek and bold. She tapped the seat beside her and the other mystery figure. You looked at the empty seat and back up at the woman.

"Who the hell- um, no? No, i- if you don't leave right now I'm calling the police." You tried to sound as confident as the woman but your voice cracked. You reached into your pocket for your phone only to find it wasn't there. You looked back up at the possible serial killers now hopeless. You could always scream, You thought. But then again this was Brooklyn, and it was late. Your screams would only blend into the city's usual rattle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid." The larger figure finally spoke. You looked over to where the voice came from. There, in the figures hand, was your phone. It flashed awake and for the first time you saw the man's face. His lips were pulled tight across his mouth but his eyes gleamed with interest. You couldn't help but notice his sharp bone structure. Chiseled was the word. His soft blonde hair was perfectly placed and cropped on the sides. You thought he looked too handsome to be a serial killer. But then again that's what they said about Bundy.

"How the hell-" you started, but cut yourself off when you realised that wasn't the question you really needed answered right now. "Who are you people. What do you want?" You spoke, a little more clearly this time.

"That's on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know, y/n" The handsome killer spoke. "As for what we want, why don't you come take a seat. We just want to talk." He continued.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" You were surprised by how clear your voice sounded. Their only response was the small redhead tapping the same seat as before. Hesitantly you crossed the room and pulled the seat out. It screeched on the old wooden floors. You sat and placed your hands in your lap, wishing you had taken Emily's advice and invested in self defense classes when you first moved to New York.

"Alright," the woman started, looking at the man beside her. "This is progress." She spoke, sarcasm oozing from her pink lips. "I'm Agent Romanoff, and this is my friend Captain Rogers. We-" The Captain cut her off harshly before she could finish.

"Agent Romanoff, the kid does not need to know that." His voice was authoritative. Okay, serial killers don't call themselves captains and agents, you thought. But you still weren't sold that these two wouldn't hack you up and shove you in the walk in freezer.

"We're not here to hurt you, y/n" Agent Romanoff suddenly said. Completely ignoring Captain Rogers glare. You shot your head towards her. That's weird. It's like she read your mind.

"The opposite, actually. We need your help. The organization we work for has been compromised and we believe you have important information that may be of use to us." She smiled warmly at you. She was much nicer than Captain Grumpy.

"Romanoff..." He warned. Both you and the Agent ignored him. "My name isn't Y/n. It's Jane. I'm sorry, really I am, but I have no idea what you guys are talking about. I just work here. I don't know anything." You felt like you were pleading, which made you feel small and weak in their dominant presence.

"Jeesh, they really did a number on you huh?" The captain spoke, only this time he sounded almost concerned.

"I have no idea what you're talking about but you guys should really leave. I need to-" he cut you off yet again.

"Tommy Benson." That stopped you right in your tracks.

"Tommy Benson." You repeated the name like it was a foreign language. "He's- was your fiance. Before..." He cleaned his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

"For fucks sake." Romanoff huffed, glaring at the Captain. "You're name is y/n. Y/n L/n. When you were 19 your family died in a horrible a house fire. You were the only survivor." You nodded. You knew this. You relived this every time you closed your eyes. You remember waking up in that cold hospital room, cords and tubes attached to every part of you. The monotone beeping of the machine as the only reminder that you were still alive.

"Okay, you remember. Good. That's good. Okay, so shortly after you graduated from MIT. And early too, really impressive may I add. I've never heard of anyone as young as you with a electrical engineering degree." You looked at her, stunned. "I- I just work here." Your voice was hushed, and broken.

"I know, hon." She began again "When you graduated you were picked up by an organization. They called themselves S.H.E.I.L.D. but they lied. They told you that you were developing a weapon that would keep the world safe. But after a while it became clear they had a different motive." You wanted to argue again. Maybe you didn't because, more than anything, you wish you were more than just a broken girl with a wicked case of ptsd.

"Tommy Benson." You spoke his name again. Romanoff nodded reassuringly while Rogers just rolled his eyes and huffed. You paid no mind.

"You met Tommy when you were 22. You had been working for what you thought was S.H.E.I.L.D long enough to figure out they were really Hydra. I think Tommy helped you realise you couldn't stand by and watch them use your invention for bad. So, you backed up your blueprints on a drive, destroyed everything else and left. You two moved to New York, changed your names, and started a new life." She paused, just long enough for you to ask. "Where is he?" She looked at Rogers, but when his expression remaind the same, she turned back to you. Her eyes were softer now.

"Y/n... Shortly after you moved here, hydra found you. They threatened that if you didn't give them your blueprint they'd-" you cut her off this time. "They killed him?" You spoke calmly. It came out as a question, even though you already knew the answer. You began to feel nauseous again but quickly dismissed it. You had no right to grieve a man you never knew.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry." You couldn't look at either of them. You couldn't remember this girl they spoke of. You couldn't remember anything. Everytime you tried your mind went blank and stung with another headache threatening to consume you.

"How?" Your voice was emotionless. You could tell that both of their eyes were on you now. You didn't care. You just stared at the table, calming your breathing. You could feel another panic attack bubbling up from deep in your chest. I am calm. I am okay. Just breathe. You repeated over and over in your head.

"You were supposed to meet on the Brooklyn Bridge. There was nothing you could have done y/n." She reassured you but all you could do was grit your teeth. Trying, desperately to remember a moment in time that never happened. Taking another deep breath you repeated, "how?"

Romanoff blinked at you, and then to Rogers. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Then he spoke. "One of hydras assassins was waiting for you both there. You tried to stop him, but it was too late. He was shot y/n. He's dead." You're breath hitch as you clutched the table so hard your knuckles began to lose colour. The image of the man on the bridge flashed through your mind. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe but your lungs felt like they were filled with smoke.

"No! Please, stop! Please don't." Your mind was screaming, but it really came out as a raspy whisper as you gasped for air. "y/n!?" Romanoffs voice rang through your mind but you couldn't focus on her words. All you could see was the man from your nightmares. "STOP! Please don't do this. Don't hurt him! Please, PLEASE! NO!" you screamed so hard your mouth began to taste metallic.

"requesting backup. I need a sedative. NOW!" a woman's voice boomed through the shop. You couldn't tell who it was. Or if it was real or not. You heard the door burst open and footsteps thundered closer to you. You opened your eyes and came face to face with the man that haunted you every night . Standing on the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge he pointed his gun at you and fired 3 times. The bullets rocketed through the air in slow motion ripping through your chest. You stumbled back tripping over your feet and like a puzzle piece missing from your memory, you fell. You watched as the monster on the bridge turned and walked out of eyeline.

Your body hit the ground hard enough to shock you back to the coffee shop floor. You began to flail and kick, but it was no use. 3 large men in black tactical gear held you down as you screamed. "Please! Stop! D-don't do this. Please!" A man with a large needle approached you and there was a sharp sting to your neck. "Please, don't do this." You cried, choking on sobs. You blinked hard as your vision became blurry. "I am calm... I am okay... Just breathe" You whispered over gasps for air.

And then everything went dark.

................

A/n: Thanks you for reading!! I’m having so much fun writing this 💕 as always, any and all feedback is welcomed!

@projectcampbell

#marvel fanfic idea #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Painted Windows 8

Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You struggle on your own.

Note: Not much to say. I’m just kinda writing chapters as I can. I have ideas I need to sort out for the next few. To everyone who’s commented and sent your thoughts, thanks, it keeps me going. <3 Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

The night of Steve’s appearance was quiet, almost serene. The knowledge that Bucky would not barge in and set your nerves on edge was the first reassurance you’d had in years. The next morning, you made your tea and marked the day in your notebook; though you wrote nothing more. You ate, exercised, watched some television, tried to read, ate again; filled your time with the little you had.

The second night you were kept awake by nightmares. Those which were so vivid, they felt real. Your body was left paralysed as you eyes opened and you saw the dark figures around you. The voices whispered indiscernibly. You fought the weight holding you down until you were able to sit up. The motion made you dizzy and you reached to the lamp to shield yourself in its light.

The third day after exile, another number on a page, you spent most of the hours staring out the window. The snow didn’t come so often and the sheets across the ground had plateaued. Soon, the powder would start to melt, though spring might still be far on the horizon. You fell asleep with your head at the foot of the bed as you stared at the moon.

The fourth day, you took a particularly long bath. You lingered until the water was lukewarm. Sank beneath its surface and held yourself there as the water began to seep down your throat. You bolted up coughing and hung over the edge. You cried. You were too weak to end it though all you wanted was for it to be over.

The fifth day, you made a bed sheet into a noose. You had nowhere to hang it nor the strength to. You wept again and untied it. If you had a spine, how long would it have been before he found you there? No one would know of the girl in his guest room. The one who called herself Dora because she dreamt of a Wizard who was nothing more than a man behind a curtain.

The sixth and seventh days were spent on the floor. You slept there between bouts of sobbing; fits of anger; period of numbness. The eight, you broke a chair against the door. The ninth, you punched in a dozen codes before the pad flashed red and didn’t stop beeping for an hour. The tenth, you tried to jump through the window. You bounced off and laughed until you were out of breath.

It was like your old cell but worse. So silent. So desolate. You were utterly alone. You would rather hurt than feel this empty. At least you had a purpose before; maybe not your own, but you had one. Now you were just waiting for it to end. And there was only one way for that to happen.

Or maybe another.

The eleventh day, you took your notebook and the pen. You wrote slowly. ‘I’m sorry.’ Those were the only words you could manage. The only you could think to fix what you had broken. To get through to the man you couldn’t read. You crept over to the door and slid the sheet beneath the door. Then you waited.

It was dark before you heard the handle.

You were only feet from the door as it opened. You slumped against the wall as the figure appeared as he had that day long ago. He hit the light switch and the room lit up. He looked around silently. You had changed only once since he left you, your old clothes were strewn across the floor. The broken chair was beside you, and your notebook too. The few dishes you used were still dirtied on the counter. He let out a long sigh and shut the door.

He knelt beside you and touched your forehead then your cheek. He lifted your head and made you look at him. He peered into your eyes then looked around again. He raised his other hand and held up the note. He let you go and tore it up. He shook his head as he crumpled the pieces in his hand.

“No,” He said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He stood and tossed away the scraps. He returned to you as you hid your face. You hadn’t thought he would actually relent. You didn’t expect him to walk in on your mess; on your dissemblance. You were embarrassed. He could see that you were still that pathetic creature he’d found in the concrete box.

“Come on,” He cooed as he slipped his arms under you and lifted you easily.

He laid you down on the bed and neatened the blankets around you. He retreated and you watched his back as he bent and lifted the broken chair. He shoved it over by the door and picked up your notebook. He didn’t open it, only set it on the table where it usually was.

Then he went to the sink and the faucet squeaked as he turned it. The clinking of dishes filled the space and you rolled over and closed your eyes. You feared what would happen when he finished. He would have nothing else to keep his attention and his anger would once more be upon you; likely fueled by your negligence.

The water stopped and you listened to him dry the dishes and put them away in the cupboard. Then his footsteps neared and the bed dipped behind you. He put his hand on your shoulder and tried to turn you to him. You resisted as you clung to the blankets.

“Dora,” He said meekly. “You can’t stay like this. You have to get cleaned up.”

You shook your head and tried to shrug him away.

“Sugar,” He squeezed your arm. The pet name surprised you. “When’s the last time you ate?”

You didn’t say anything but your stomach growled loudly at the mention of food.

“Come on. Go get yourself cleaned up and I’ll make you something.” He offered. “You gotta be good… be good to yourself.”

You let him roll you onto your back. You looked up at him weakly. You were stunned through your humiliation. That he was being so kind. That he wasn’t breaking the rest of the furniture. That he wasn’t playing out the scene you’d dreaded in the back of your mind for more than a week.

“Wh-why--” You croaked.

“Tell me you’ll get washed up, sugar,” He gently pulled the covers from your shoulders.

You blinked at him and didn’t move.

“You gotta get up.” He rubbed your arm. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” You rasped. “I…”

“Sugar, I’d do it for you…” His fingers touched the hem of your sleeve, “I would but…” He paused and his tongue slipped out between his lips as his gaze followed the line of the vee neck. “Please. For me.” He caressed your cheek. “If you really are sorry, you’ll do it.” He traced along your bottom lip. “Or I’ll have to leave again.”

You grabbed his wrist without thinking. He was jolted by the sudden action but didn’t pull away. His lips twitched and a glimmer coloured his eyes. You clung to him. Your chest felt empty and your stomach clenched painfully.

“Don’t, please,” You begged. “Please, I can’t… be alone.”

He nodded and smiled. He leaned over you and kissed your forehead. “So get up,” He said quietly. “And get cleaned up for me, sugar.”

He sat back and you let him pull you up with him. He stood and pulled back the covers further and guided you to the edge of the bed. He forced you up onto your feet and his hand settled over yours. He detached you from his wrist though his hand lingered on yours. He let go reluctantly and went to your closet.

He opened it and pulled out a pale purple night. He held it up and turned to offer it to you.

“When you’re done, you can eat and then you need to sleep,” He neared and presented the nightgown to you. “You look tired, sugar.”

You slowly took the hanger from him and lowered your head. You felt the cotton between your fingers. “I am,” You admitted. “Very tired.”

You stayed in the shower for a while. You felt as if there was an invisible casing over your body. Your surroundings had become surreal. You scrubbed at your skin without thinking, then your hair. You stepped out onto the plush bath mat and let it tickle your feet. You dried off as you stared in the mirror.

Dora. She was a stranger and she looked back at you; doe-eyed yet dozy. You were that stranger now. ‘Sugar’. That’s what he’d call you. You wondered if it was because you were sweet or because you were so quick to melt. You didn’t ponder long. It didn’t matter, truly.

You pulled the nightgown over your head. The straps were not as thick as they looked, nor the fabric. You could see your curves beneath, your nipples bumpy under the cotton, the skirt shorter than you hoped. You hung the towel and peeked one last time at Dora. She was perfect; hollow; malleable.

You opened the door cautiously and stepped into the room. Bucky was by the microwave, watching the numbers count down. He looked over his shoulder briefly but his attention quickly returned to the timer.

“I can get you a stove top but you’ll have to be careful,” He said. “It will make things easier.” The microwave beeped and he took out the tray of lasagna. “How about it?”

“Uh,” You stopped by the table. There was a new chair; like the old one. You looked up at him as he split the small lasagna between two plates. “Okay… yes, please. I would like that very much.”

“Alright,” He took two forks and the plates. He neared the other side of the table. “Sit. Eat.”

He paused and held the plates above the table. He looked at you fully, his eyes dipped down and trailed back up. He set the dishes on the table and slid one towards you. He cleared his throat.

“Go on.” He waited for you to sit before he did the same.

You shifted in the chair and took the fork. Your stomach curdled in a mixture of hunger and revulsion. You were ravenous and yet revolted by the smell of burnt tomato. You looked up at him as you sensed his gaze. His eyes were predatory; expectant. You cut out a corner with your fork and bit into it with a hum.

“Oh, sugar, I was worried,” He said. “I thought maybe you were sick.”

You chewed, thankful for an excuse to remain silent. The nickname was both irritating and endearing. It was foreign and didn’t seem to fit and yet you wanted to hear it again. You swallowed stiffly.

“I am okay,” You replied. “I think.”

He nodded and took a bite. You glanced around the room. It was tidy again. As it had been when he’d first taken you there, but something was different. You thought of the concrete cell and the flimsy cot, the rusty toilet and dingy floor. You turned back to him and pushed the sauce around your plate.

“I…” Your heart fluttered. “I really am sorry, Bucky. I…”

“These things happen,” He said evenly. “It’s difficult at first. When you’ve only ever related to people as an object, it is hard to break free of that. You don’t see kindness as anything but a trick and your emotions all boil over so that you cannot see through the steam and then suddenly, you’re trapped in the flames.”

You looked at your lasagna., ate some more and thought.

“Sugar…” He said. You lifted your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Your fork clattered to the plate and you sat back. You clasped your hands together in your lap. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“You won’t be,” He set down his fork and reached across the table. “Not tonight. I’ll stay.”

“You will?” You asked. Your voice cracked and so did your will. He could see it; how fractured you were.

“If that’s what you want,” He kept his hand as it was. “All I’ve done is what’s best for you, sugar. Can’t you see that?”

You looked at his hand. His real hand. The palm was deeply lined but his fingers held no tension. You pursed your lips and carefully placed your hand in his.

“I… know,” You said as his fingers enclosed around your hand. “Thank you.”

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #painted windows #marvel #mcu #captain america #Winter Soldier

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pearlplusau · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6, Part 4 Finale

A monstrous scree roared from below, shaking the entire arena.

The sounds of giant wings flapping came from all over the place as the gem monster rose from below. Its eye seemed bizarre and in complete fury, but it seemed like it could locate the pearls just fine as it swooped down, aiming at Pearl, wide eyed and stiffer than a statue.

“Pearl!” Coral was too far to help her, she had to think fast, she can’t throw her lance at the monster, it's moving too fast and she might end up hurting Pearl; She can’t try to run and push her away, there’s not enough time!

Coral sprinted towards the two, using her lance as a pole, and struck it to the ground with its force to catapult herself towards the monster, drop kicked in its midsection, interrupting the attack, and smacked against a giant pillar, falling victim of a massive pile of debris and rubble. However, it didn’t poof.

She huffed and smiled at her little accomplishment, but her smile melted when she saw Pearl still stuck in motion. She grabbed her shoulders and furiously shook the core out of the pearl while demanding info, ANY info that can help them in their current situation!

“Pearl! Snap out of it! What do we do? How do we beat it?!” Coral screamed and screamed, but it doesn’t look like she’s snapping out of it anytime soon as she mutters loudly under her breath, “We couldn’t identify what gem it was, and now it’s so huge there’s no telling, IT DIDN’T HAVE WINGS! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE WINGS! GAHHHHH!”

The pink gem needed to take matters into her own hands, by being physical.

SMACK!

A pinkish mark, the size of a palm appeared on the side of Pearl’s cheek. The gem shook her head, waking up from a nightmare, but the current reality is far worse than the nightmares.

“I…I’m awake, thank you, I really needed that.” Pearl thanked and took a quick look at their current issue. “It’s trapped, that means we still have time before it can tunnel, or…fly.”

Coral echoed, “Tunnel? Is that the gem monster you and Garnet fought yesterday?” which led Pearl to realize she hasn’t really explained much.

“Ok, to make things quick, the monster Garnet and I fought was part of the monster we see before our eyes. That thing. The difference between yesterday and now is that it has gigantic bat wings, and it's three times bigger than it was previously. So, I would say the two same type gems fused with another type of a gem monster, which is why it went from two worm-like creatures, to a giant, deadly, hairy worm with bat wings. Individually, the worm spits acid, and it had these horns on its head. If you get even slightly scratched by them, it’ll be worse than the deadly acid! But now? There’s no telling what it can do!”

The look on Coral’s face says “ohboy…”, and Pearl did not like that look on her.

The pink gem spoke, “H-How do we stop it? And why is it so angry?”

For some reason, Pearl looked, guilty, as if the attack was her doing. “I…may have chipped its horn as an ambush, I didn’t know it would get so enraged. Garnet and I barely took it down before it tunneled away!”

The monster was struggling, trying to break free from the wreckage. It tries to flap its wings, but the body couldn’t break free. It tried to tunnel, but it looks like it has no idea how to tunnel with giant bat wings behind its back. But its struggle was leading it to a solution, and it figured out a way to tuck its wings and tunnel down the ruins.

Pearl grabbed the pink gem and they ran towards the warp pad. “Keep an eye out! It could show up anywhere!”

Beneath them, the surface cracked and rumbled as the monster coursed through the solid ground, surpassed them in speed as it sprung up while they were merely halfway to the doorway. The monster screeched and roared, the debris from its tunneling flew into the sky, and landed right on top of the two pearls, nearly crushing them. The beast widened its maw, dripping poisonous green acid, exposing its sharp fangs as well as the back of its poisonous spikes. The two pearls, still stuck under the wreckage, can only hope for a painless death.

As the monster approached, Pearl said something that really took Coral by surprise. “Coral, I’m sorry I dragged you into all this! You don’t deserve this, and if I get shattered from the monster, I want you to keep Rose happy, even if I won’t be there to see her being happy!"

Suddenly, a giant pink shield frisbeed into the monster and smacked it far to the edge of the arena! The two pearls looked back where the shield was thrown, and at the doorway...was Rose Quartz herself, panting from all the running and the usage of energy in throwing the weapon strong enough to make that distance.

“Coral! Pearl! You’re alright!” Rose exclaimed as tears of relief rolled down her cheeks. She crouched and was getting ready to leap towards them. Unfortunately, the blow from Rose’s shield wasn’t enough to knock down the fusion monster, as dark spikes swooped towards the fluffy pink gem and pinned her dress to the wall, deeming her immovable.

“Rose!!” Both pearls cried, still stuck under the piles of debris, unable to help their leader.

The monster slithered and reached up to the fallen, unconscious gem. Opening its massive maw, getting ready to strike once more!

“No!” Both Pearl and Coral screamed! Coral couldn’t bear to see something like this happened, so she turned to the last thing she would do. She grabbed Pearl’s hand and insisted on an idea for them to save their leader!

“We need to go and save her!” Coral looked into the panicking eyes of her and firmly said, “Pearl! We gotta fight fire with fire! It’s our only hope!”

Pearl showcased a complex set of emotions, but at the end, she knew what needed to be done. “Alright, let’s do it.” The two pearls joined hands, having a common goal, they felt in sync almost immediately. Both pearls engulfed in a white light, as their figures shifted and merged into one, it grew out from the debris, and the giant pearl with orange pigtails took their stance.

In her primal form of a pink leotard and white silk at the waist where to tutu should be, it was Pastel Pearl, ready for anything.

Just before the monster could get closer to the fallen pink gem, Pastel jabbed a spear at the neck of the monster, perfectly gaining its attention as it turned around and roared in incredible pain. The beast arched its back, showing its fully grown spikes, and launched them full speed towards the fusion!

As the spikes gained altitude, Pastel summoned another spear, extended it and did rapid twirls as a shield against the raining spikes, effectively defending from the attack.

The monster screed and tunnelled underneath, preparing for another surprise attack. This time however, Pastel summoned a lance and aimed it, and stabbed it through the ground, directly jabbing the monster back. Forced to rise up from tunnelling, it spread its giant bat wings and flew up the air, higher than the furthest cloud, rendering it unobservable from Pastel’s perspective.

The pearl fusion returned the two weapons from hand and retrieved an orb from each gem. The two orbs were met and shaped into a shorter version of a staff. It’s a pink ribbon wand wrapped in a bow, gifted from a certain powerful gem. Some said a ribbon wand won’t do any good in a battlefield, but today, she’ll prove them wrong!

The giant pearl leaped to the darkening sky, finishing what needs to be done.

The two fusions floated face to face, while the monster was still in awe of its opponent’s speed and flight, Pastel wasted no time and attacked it with her wand. She unleashed the bow tie and flung the ribbon with all her might.

The monster was vicious, its flying component dominated the wings compartment and shifted in its space, dodging the ribbon left and right. It was confused and perplexed on how a ribbon could hurt, but it's not taking any chances.

Pastel and the corrupted gem fusion were gaining high in altitude, and on the fourth dodge, the two figures reached the end of the darken clouds. As the afternoon sun shone bright, the ribbon’s texture gained a glimmer effect, showcasing more than just the colour pink and white, shining so bright, it became the most glistering, dazzling piece of silk the monster has ever seen!

As the monster was bedazzled by the weapon’s beauty, the ribbon took its aim and wrapped around the bat wings, rendering it unable to fly.

The beast struggled and attempting to not plunge into its death, Pastel took this as an advantage. While carefully avoiding its spikes and horn, she went straight into its face, confronted, and apologized.

“Pearl says she’s sorry for the pain and agony she caused you, she didn’t realize how a chipped horn can lead you to such catastrophe, being fused with another corrupted gem. Please forgive her, she wasn’t trying to hurt you, she was trying to put you out of your corrupted misery.” Pastel sincerely apologized as she summoned a lance, gripping its point at the monster neck..

“And I’m so sorry...for this.”

Back at the arena, the rubbles and ruins were still in place as Pastel slowly descended from the sky, landing gracefully to the centre of the arena. In her hands were the two gems of the fusion monster, with both hands, pinkish-white bubbles formed separately around the two gems. And with one tap each, they went to a safer, better place.

Pastel stood her ground, but finally relaxed and said, “Finally, it’s all ove-”

At the doorway to the warp pad, came a familiar sound.

It was the sound of their leader in pain! Still flat on her side, the unconscious Rose was struggling in her wake, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Ohno, ROse!” Pastel realized there was a chance she might be poisoned, or worse…

She rushed to her side, reached for Pearl’s gem and retrieved a small bottle of healing tears from the fountain. She carefully dripped the essence onto the scratched surfaces, and immediately, the wounds began to heal up, leaving small but unnoticeable scars on her figure.

The fusion gentle shook the leader, “Rose, are you alright?”

Rose turned and laid on her back, head against the wall. She sluggishly opened her eyes, and greeted, “Nice to see you too Pastel.”

Pastel sighed, obviously relieved, but she’s also not ready to leave yet.

“Rose, while I still have you,” Pastel kneed as the pink gem sat upright, “I need to ask something of you.”

“Is it about the forgetting that I can summon more than one shield? I think I’ve already paid for that crime.” Rose chuckled, while Pastel gave no more than a giggle.

“Nono, it’s not that. It’s about…them. I have a question, and…they’re not exactly here right now. Can…can you tell me, something that they would both want to know?”

Rose was rather surprised by the question, but she provided an answer regardless.

“Well, there is something I have been keeping in, it was so suppressed that I had to be reminded. Before Pearl came in, I had this prophecy from a sapphire that, if nothing changes, someone I deeply cared for would suffer eternal pain, and I never wanted that.”

Pastel stayed silent, doing the part of listening until further notice...

“I guess, it's right after the idea of losing Coral. After I was told that she would be taken away if I don’t handle…certain issues, I had to…grow up and take matters into my own hands. Make decisions that don't usually feel right.”

“And well, I understand that my recent behaviour has been rather...selfish to some, and technically, that monster attack IS my fault for not dealing with it yesterday. I should’ve told Pearl what I was doing instead of leaving her and Garnet in the dark. I get how it can be worrisome, and…I’ll try to change for the better. You know, be more aware of my actions.”

Upon hearing that, the pearl gem on Pastel’s forehead glowed, but Rose proceeded regardless.

“And, while I was…meditating in my room, I realized for a fact...that I’m not…the greatest gem, in the moral perspective that is. I’m really sorry that changing Coral’s old name hurt her feelings and left her out of the events Pearl and i made, but from now on, we’ll do things together.”

The pearl gem on Pastel’s navy glowed as well.

Rose noticed the two glow, and gestured to Pastel to sit with her.

Rose taunted, “Is there…anything you would like to say to me? You know, before you go?”

Pastel got out her ribbon wand, fidgeting with the handle, slightly conflicted, but gave in. “Let me put it in the words they’re willing to face, just this once.”

Pastel spoke, “New pearl never knew the old pink, the pink she met was someone that was trying her best, trying to be a better diamond. To gain the praise and betterment of the other diamonds, and just, doing her best in every way.”

“Old pearl saw you as the same old diamond, never expecting someone would change, even until now. She never knew changing a person got so…drastic, like how she herself changed without her even noticing.”

“Though, neither of them had the whole picture, that is. But now that I’m here, there doesn’t have to be one sided stories anymore, now I get to understand everything, and that they finally get to know…each other.”

The glow from the two gems spread out, indulging Pastel in a wondrous sense of-

“Thank you, Rose.”

Acceptance.

Shiiiinnggg

Pastel Pearl unfused, she returned to the two pearls we know and love.

Pearl.

And Coral.

After a while, Pearl placed her hand on Coral’s shoulder. She had the most apologetic look Coral has ever seen in her gem life.

“Coral, I’m sorry things got out of hand between us, is it possible that we...forget this ever happened?” Pearl asked, sounding more like a suggestion than a plea.

The pink gem held Pearl’s hand and said, “Well, I am having trouble remembering things lately. Hows about, we remember this, together?”

Pearl gave an acknowledging smile, agreed.

End of chapter 6

(A/N: I just did one last read of this chapter and, i don't know about you guys, but it had me teared up even though i was the one writing and finished writing it weeks ago. Also i think this is the longest chapter written in a post.

We got to the part of Coral’s relationship with Pearl, how it all happened, and how it will likely proceed. I modified what Mega Pearl said at the episode “Volleyball”, but instead of talking to Steven, she was directly talking to Rose herself.

Lastly, I just wanna say thank you for reading, it's been more than a year writing for this blog, writing what i love, and to a pretty cool community. Most of you guys have showcased your gratitude by liking or even reblogging my work, and whether you followed me for a long time or have just decided to follow after reading, i want you guys to know you guys were the reason i was able to push myself in writing, you guys were the motivation i had to keep the plot going, you guys were the motivation i have to keep the blog running.

Even though most of you guys came just because of Tripixle’s artwork, im really hoping these stories fit well in your system, or at least filled the voids of “End of stevenuniverse” or “Hiatuses on Amphibia/The Owl House”, i know mines been filled, and more stories to come!

And last, but not least, Thank you for reading and have a great day! Byee!)

#stevenuniverse #pearlplsuau #Pearl #Pearlsu #rosequartz #Pinkpearl #Coral #pastelpearl #megapearl #pearlfusion

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angelicspaceprince · 5 years

Text

Beetlejuice Headcanons - Him Reacting To The First Time You Say ‘I Love You’

So I’m in the a Beetlejuice rabbit hole atm and have been talking to @trelaney about things and yeah these headcanons were born as a result. I’m hoping to have more out later this week and maybe a NSFW and SFW alphabet by tomorrow morning if I get time tonight but for now, enjoy this. I might also do some Dewey Finn ones if I feel up to it, I gotta watch the SOR musical first. Also, a conversation with @snake-cadaver about what Beetleboi would call his dick lead to a line in this headcanon - my aim is to later write a fic about it but ya never know.

Also warnings for sadness and Soft Boi!Beetlebug because he needs love.

You had been dating Beetlejuice 🐞 for maybe three months before it happened, but you had known since the third ‘date’ that you loved him

He wasn’t the easiest person to date, even to get him just to wash his fucking hands was a nightmare but you made do

Your declaration of love just happened by accident

You were eating dinner and watching TV, Beetlejuice providing a running commentary which had you in stitches and it just slipped out

“God, Beej, I love you.”

It killed the mood in less than a second as Beetlejuice when from his usual, upbeat and somewhat cocky self to something you didn’t even recognise

He goes quiet, and almost seems to want to curl into himself

“You….you do?”

His voice seems broken, nothing you’d ever heard from him before

“Yeah, of course I do?”

“You sure?”

When you look up to see him properly, you realise that his hair is mostly pink with faint streaks of blue – your boyfriend was like a friggin mood ring. Blue was not a good colour for his hair to be

“B, you constantly go around calling your dick your Beetlebulge and I still let it stick it in me. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

His usual cocky sell returns as his chest puffs out.

“Of course you do! I’m the best in the Netherworld, babes, and don’t you forget it!”

It didn’t escape your attention that he didn’t say that he loved you back but that’s ok

It hurt, but maybe he wasn’t ready for that yet

Two weeks later, you both collapsed into bed, drunker than you thought was physically possible

And suddenly, the insecurity from that event two weeks prior reared its ugly head as you and Beetlejuice 🐞 just stare at each other’s faces, him with a stupid grin on his face that was either an effect of the alcohol or simply the fact that he had a stupid pun coming up in his head

You ruined that smile with one question

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunches up in confusion.

“Of course I do baby!” You wince as he shouts his overexcited answer followed by him putting a finger to his lips and continuing his sentence in an overdramatic whisper. “Shhh babes, people outside, don’t yell.”

You giggle which makes him smile again. “I’ve loved you since day dot, dollface.” He goes to kiss your nose but misses and lands face down on the bed, where you can hear a faintly muffled ‘shit’ against the covers before he pulls back to look at you again

You smile at your very cute (and very very drunk) boyfriend and move to put your chin to his chest. “That’s good, because I love you.”

You hear him hum and when you look up, he looks like he’s about to drift off to sleep. But you still wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Beetlejuice hums as a hand moves up to trace faint patterns on your back (you are 99% sure he’s tracing dicks, but you’re too tired and drunk to really care)

“Well, sugar tits,” – you roll your eyes at the nickname – “it was the first time someone’s ever said that to me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.”

Everything seems to pause as you sit up to look down at your boyfriend. “No one has ever said to you that they love you?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ as he squints to look up at you. “It’s too late, let’s go back to sleep babes.”

“Not even your mother?”

He scoffs. “She called me an annoying little shit, does that count?” He shrugs. “Babes, its no issue, really. Everyone thought I was annoying and painful, even when I was alive. I was a hard breather to love, even harder dead guy too I guess.” He pulls you down closer so you’re lying down again, but you slide to the side so you can still look at his face, hair still green but with the tips faintly blue. “Go to sleep babes.” He finally whispers

You can feel your heart break as you realise Beetlejuice 🐞 hadn’t been loved in a very, very long time. You weren’t really sure how to make the situation better. You finally resolve to say the only thing that came to your mind

“Hey. Hey. Hey Bug. I love you.”

His face breaks out into another large, dopey ass smile as he turns to you. “I love you too.”

He reaches over to kiss you, but somehow manages to miss epically and, with a loud crash, fall onto the floor beside your bed

You look over the edge in a hurry, seeing him currently face planted to the wooden floor, laying flat with his arms splayed out comically

“Uh….Beetlebug? Are you ok?”

His response is a loud snore so you figure, he’s ok

You quickly get a pillow under him and a blanket over him before climbing back into your own bed and mentally preparing for the massive hangover you no doubt will receive in the morning

Hey, Beetlejuice is too heavy for your drunk ass to lift and you don’t want a bad back in the morning. You love him, but you’re not stupid

In the morning, you wake up with a searing headache, limbs wrapped tightly around your body, pulling you close to a relatively cool body and loud snoring echoing through your head as Beetlejuice’s snores continue to grumble out his body and into your ear, his head firmly pressed against your shoulder

You groan and try to move with no success, so you pull out your phone and start scrolling through your various social media

You hear a grumble next to you and your boyfriend’s head moves so his eyes are buried in the crook of your neck

“Is too early babes, go back to sleep.”

“I can’t, I have a pest snoring in my ear.” You tease as he huffs a small laugh and kisses your neck gently

“You love it.” You hum in agreement as he shifts again. “Ugh, it’s too bright.”

You roll your eyes and dim your phone which leads to a content sigh before more snoring

When you finally do manage to get out of Beetlejuice’s grasp and set out on your quest for coffee and painkillers, it’s not long until two arms wrap their way around your shin

“Babe, come back to bed?” Came the pathetic whine, large eyes trying to convince you to pity the man attached to them and to return to the bed

“I need coffee.” You wince as your own voice echoes in your skull. “And Tylenol.”

Beetlejuice 🐞 refuses to let go and you end up dragging a (very heavy, clingy) demon out of your room and into the kitchen to get the coffee going

You weren’t even going to look behind you to the destruction his body being dragged behind you left until after you were awake

As you brew the coffee, Beetlejuice stands and quickly makes his way to rest behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he continues just to lazily hold you and kiss random parts of your skin that he can reach

Whenever he went to cop a feel, you’d slap his hand away. Too early for that bullshit

Your headache clears as Beetlejuice shuffles in closer, ignoring the cup you made for him that sits there in the sandworm mug you managed to commission for him

“Don’t leave me?”

His voice returns to the same emotionally unsure and vulnerable one that he had three weeks ago

You move to run your fingers over his arms as you start to sway

“Never, Beej. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slaps Beetlejuice’s 🐞 ass This bad boy can fit so much abandonment issues in it.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #headcanons #beetlejuice headcanons #beetlejuice the musical headcanons #beetlejuice/reader headcanons #beetlejuice x reader headcanons #ama writes #sft #smol boi #must protect #i will admit i felt old when i had to google the meme reference at the end to make sure it was right #news flash #it was not #and yes #there is a beetlejuice pun in this that I didn't stop after one #I kept fucken going bitches

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