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starset21 · 8 months

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Collision Course

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower

Looking for more? Chicago Fire Collection Masterlist

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: cannon typical depictions of fires/accidents

“All right, boys. Feast your eyes,” Cruz said and turned his computer for them all to see. “Not bad,” Mouch hummed. “Huh. Not bad!” he exclaims. “It was a burger truck, so it's already got most of the equipment we need. Look, fryer, gas grill, refrigeration,” Cruz tells him. "Built-in napkin dispensers?" Dani asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at it. “Snazzy,” Mouch chortles. “Mm-hmm. Can't you just picture our logo on the side of that thing? Molly's II,” Cruz asks. “Cruz, how much does this thing cost?” Otis asks. “That's the best part; It's only 12 grand!” Cruz grins. “That's not possible. Joe, where does it say $12,000?” Dani asks. “Right there... 12k,” he points. “That's 12,000 miles, idiot,” Dani laughs, walking back over to the kitchen counter to grab her bagel. “The price is… $79,000,” Otis sighed and Cruz groaned. “So, before you pitched Herrmann this great idea, did you do any research at all on how much it costs to get a food truck up and running? The vehicle, the license, the registration…” Mouch trailed off. “All right, all right, I get it, Mouch! You want to point fingers, or you want to help me find a truck?” Cruz asks. Mouch is saved by the alarm.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Structure fire, 16th and Wabash.” They wasted no time, suiting up and hopping into the rigs. “I can already see the smoke, guys. Looks like it's rolling,” Cruz called out. “Oh, boy. Hey, Casey, we're neck-and-neck with your old pal, Welch,” Herrmann says and Casey looks out the window to see there was another fire truck racing to the scene about a block away. “Don't worry, Casey, I got this,” Cruz tells him. “I'm not interested in a pissing contest. If Welch wants this fire, he can have it,” Casey shuts it down. Cruz glanced at him. “Cruz, forget him. Just drive the truck,” Casey orders. “Great. Welch is gonna get there first. We'll be taking orders from him,” Otis sighs, adjusting his gloves. “Ah, I don't see 'em. Maybe they got held up.” Casey turns to look at the firefighters in the back of the truck. “See? It all works out in the end-” A horn blasts and Casey’s cut off when they’re slammed into from the side. It felt like slow motion, the momentum tipping the truck onto its side, throwing the firefighters around a bit until it settled.

“Whoa, Severide!” Tony shouts as squad 3 rolls up to the intersection. “Mayday! Mayday! This is Squad 3 to main! Truck 81 and Truck 66 have collided on the corner of 24th and Wabash. We're gonna need ambulances... as many as you can get! This is bad!” Kelly yells into the radio as he puts on his turnout coat and helmet. They come to a stop and they jump out, taking in the scene before them. “Confirming that Truck 81 and 66 are out of action, requesting that Squad 3 stay. Please reassign other units to the structure fire. Mills, Capp, Tony... check 66. Newhouse, you're with me,” Severide orders. “Copy.” Severide climbs the truck to peer in the windows. “You guys all right? Any injuries? Hey, Case, you okay?” he asks. Mouch groans as Otis and Dani start trying to pick themselves up. “Mouch is hurt. Oh, hell. This is bad,” Casey says as Newhouse is able to open up the door and help him out. “Otis, Dani, you okay?” Severide calls out as he moves to see them. “Yeah, but Mouch is bleeding,” Otis tells him. “Mouch, talk to me,” Severide calls. “It's my eye. I hit something... door frame, I don't know,” he says. “Let me see, bud.” Otis helps Mouch tip his head so Severide can see. “All right, don't worry. We're gonna take care of you. Herrmann, grab your jump bag. Newhouse, go down, put pressure on that.” Newhouse nods. “Cruz, you okay?” Casey asks and with no response he yells, “Cruz!” Cruz looks up at him and he can clearly tell he’s still in a bit of shock. “We'll get you out,” Casey reassures him.

“What do we got?” Severide asks as he jumps down from 81. “We got a whole lot of injuries. Driver's not responding. He's pinned in there pretty bad,” Tony tells him. “Hey, Welch, what's his name? Welch!” Severide yells. “Molina,” he groans. “Hey, Molina, can you hear me, bud?” Severide asks. “Tell me he's okay. He's okay?” Welch asks. “I can't find a pulse. Can... reach in there?” Welch presses two fingers to Molina’s neck. “Ah, okay, I feel something, barely. We gotta get him out of here,” Welch tells Severide. Casey is on the other side of 66, when one of the guys opens the back door and almost falls. “You alright? Easy, man, we got you,” Casey asks, helping to steady him. “Don't worry about me. Parish has got a busted leg. The bone showing and everything,” McFarland tells him. “I'll take care of him, okay? Take a seat over here,” Casey directs. “Why don't you guys learn how to drive? I mean, damn, Lieutenant, what the hell?” he sneers. “Let's get out of the way,” Casey tries to redirect him. “No, I'm not going anywhere,” he tries to insist. “Seriously, you look a little pale. Come on, take a seat.”

Newhouse is working to try and get the front passenger side door wrenched open with a halligan and when he finally pops it open Welch basically falls out of the truck. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down!” Newhouse yells and Casey helps him up. “I'm fine,” he insists, pushing them off of him and climbing in the back. “Parish, hang in there! Parish!” Welsh yelled. More sirens approach. “Hey, Gabby,” Casey greets as she climbs out of the ambo, taking in the scene. “Matt,” she sighed in relief. “I'm okay, but we got a lot of guys who need help. He's got a possible broken arm, multiple lacerations. Guy in the back has a broken leg. Driver's unconscious, real bad shape. Mouch got banged up,” he told her. “I'll go check on Mouch,” Brett says as Dani climbed down from the tipped truck behind Otis, Herrmann, and Mouch. “I’m beginning to think I’m cursed or something,” Dani mutters to Otis as she dabbed a piece of gauze Brett had handed her on some of the cuts on her face and hairline, courtesy of the broken glass that had flown everywhere. Otis gave her a strange look. “It feels like I’m always getting cut up on something. There was the bombing at the hospital, then that fire, and now this. It’s like my 5th shift back since I was cleared from that,” she huffed. “Mouch, what happened? Let me have a look.” Brett peeled back the gauze that the others had him press to it. “I can't see. Aw, jeez, I c... can't see!” Mouch exclaimed. “I don't know what happened. He came out of nowhere,” Cruz stuttered. “Cruz, are you okay? Why don't you sit?” Brett asked. Cruz shook his head. “Put me to work, Lieutenant,” he tells Casey. They got Parish out and sent him off to the hospital in one of the ambos.

“Casey,” Chief Boden called when he and the deputy district chief pulled up and got out. “Yeah?” he turns. “Are your men okay?” Boden asks. “All but Mouch. His eye's messed up. Dawson's taking him to Chicago med,” Casey tells him. “Is it serious?” he asks. “I don't know. He's alive. He's in one piece. I'm just thankful for that.” Chief nods, surveying the scene. “What about Molina?” Chief Tiberg asks. “He's non-responsive, losing blood. His legs are crushed,” Casey tells him. “Cruz… What happened?” Boden asks. “I-I don't know, Chief. They came out of nowhere,” Cruz stutters. “Who had the light?” Tiberg asks. “We did,” Cruz tells him. “You sure?” Boden asked. “If it wasn't green, then it was yellow. There's no way it was red,” Cruz insisted. “You don't know what color it was?” Tiberg huffed. “Cruz, did you see the light?” Boden asks. “I must have. I know I did. Chief, it just all happened like that,” Cruz told him as the team worked to extract Molina. The scene was cleared, both firetrucks being lifted and towed away, leaving the crews to gather at the hospital to find out any news.

“I guess they were trying to cut across from Michigan, but they had to know we were coming up Wabash, right?” Herrmann asked. “Either way, they got to slow down and have a look. Everyone knows that,” Severide tells him. “Unless they had the green,” Newhouse countered. “Please. They didn't have the green, what the hell, Newhouse?” Herrmann huffs. “Are the cops still all over Cruz?” Capp asks. “Yeah, now they're demanding piss and blood,” Otis sighs. “Standard procedure,” Dani tells him, running a hand through her hair. “Is that Molina's wife?” Otis asks and everyone looks to where a woman was sobbing and being held up by a few other firefighters. “Poor kid.” Meanwhile on the other side of the waiting area. “I'm not denying there's been some bad blood between Lieutenant Welch and myself, but it didn't play a role in this accident... not on our end, anyway,” Casey tells the chiefs. “Are you sure that 81 had the right of way?” Boden asks. “I didn't see the light myself, but I trust Joe Cruz implicitly,” Casey tells him. “Even though he doesn't remember seeing the light either?” Tiberg asks. “If the light was red, he'd have come to a controlled stop. He's good at his job,” Casey insists. “Here's the problem, Casey. The cops still haven't found any credible eyewitnesses. There's no traffic cam at that intersection,” Boden tells him. “And, of the two drivers involved, one can't remember what color the light was, and one might not live through the night!” Tiberg exclaims. “I stand by Joe Cruz,” Casey tells him and they nod. “That's all for now.”

“Okay, everyone from 51... let's move out. Nothing more we can do here,” Chief Boden tells them and the remaining truck members all load up into the squad truck, except Herrmann who rides with the chief. “We should have a spare truck here from the shop pretty soon,” Casey tells the chief. “That old beast with the bad clutch?” Cruz asks. “We gonna get anybody to fill in for Mouch?” Herrmann asks. “I'm rehiring the whole crew. You guys are done with your shift,” Boden tells them. “Chief, that's not necessary,” Matt tries. “You've been rattled. Go home and rest,” he tells them, with no room to question. Everyone disbursed, heading to go change and grab their bags. “We should take turns standing watch for Molina. Make sure somebody from 81 is at the hospital at all times,” Matt told the crew 15 minutes later as they all left the bunk room. “All right. I'll go straight there, if someone can relieve me tonight,” Herrmann told him. “Cruz and I are going to run down to Roseland, take a look at that old hot dog truck. But then we'll swing by,” Otis tells him. “Just let me know when someone needs relief, I’ll go whenever,” Dani told them all. “Casey, Cruz… Over here now,” Chief intercepted them, with several other chiefs. They all looked at each other for a moment before Herrmann, Dani, and Otis moved, hovering by the door.

“What's this?” Matt asks and Tiberg hands him a tablet with some images. “I thought there was no traffic camera at 24th and Wabash?” he asks. “This is four blocks south,” Boden tells him. “And there's 81 racing through a red light, 30 seconds before the collision,” Tiberg adds. “That was a controlled stop,” Matt tells him as Cruz looks at the video. “Controlled stop, my ass. You blew that light at 20 miles an hour, at least,” Tiberg huffs. “Chief, everybody breaks the controlled stop rule. You pretty much have to,” Cruz tries to defend himself. “That's your defense? "All the kids are doing it"?” Tiberg yells. “Chief, you want to back me up here?” Cruz asks. “I would stop talking now, Joe,” Boden tells him. “We were on our way to a fire. If we made a controlled stop at every light, there…” Cruz trailed off. “Then Molina would be back at his firehouse instead of on life support,” Tiberg yells. “Cruz, you should talk to your union rep before you say another word,” Boden advises. “Better yet, a criminal lawyer. If Molina can't pull out of this, you're looking at manslaughter charges,” Tiberg tells him.

#starset writes #chicago fire #matt casey #kelly severide #dani halstead

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velathetanager · 1 year

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Hotline Mobius: Work Day

Author’s Note: This is basically what Amy Rose’s life involves now that the Caller has made her Overalls.

---

Amy Rose had grown to really hate the sound of her phone ringing over the past year. She flinched whenever it did because of who could be on the other end. And what she could be made to do. But she knew she had to answer, because there was no telling what he might do if she ignored him. His distorted voice came in, a poisonous kind of friendly, and Amy’s blood ran ice cold. “Heya, Amy. I got another job for you.” When Amy nodded, the voice continued. “This one is a simple seek-and-destroy mission. The mask will give you a location; go there and clear it out. Then, take whatever important stuff you can, leave it in the dumpster, and torch the place. If there’s money there, you can keep it. Consider it a tip, heh.” Amy nodded again and prepared to hang up, but then the voice added, “And Amy? Don’t play with me. You remember what happened the last time you did.” Yes. She did. The fire at Cream’s house. No one was hurt, but they’d had to stay with Amy and Sonic, her roommate, while the house got repaired. Amy nodded slowly, and replied with a shaky voice. “I won’t.” The caller then hung up, and Amy went to her attic. Her outfit was simple. Blood-red shirt and shoes, and black overalls. Blood wasn’t as visible on those colors. And white rubber gloves with brass knuckles so she could hit harder and wash them more easily after the fact. And, of course, the mask. She hated the mask. A dragon’s skull, cold as death and practically radiating with a twisted power she feared the very idea of using. It poured thoughts and information into her mind as the caller wanted. But it concealed her identity, and it made her enemies fear her, which she could use on the battlefield. So she put it on, and the mask showed her a guiding line. If she followed it, she would get where she had to go. So she followed it. After going invisible and climbing out her attic window and over her roof so Sonic wouldn’t notice, of course. An Eggman Empire base? Amy must have been getting promoted. Or maybe it was because she’d wiped out the entire Deadly Six faction (by herself, mind you, and she had to check herself for enjoying what she’d done to Zavok so much) and other vic- people who worked for the caller had wiped out other factions, so this was the next logical step. At any rate, the place was full of people who didn’t need to be alive anymore, so she turned invisible and went in to do that. There were just a few people in the front of the building. Once Amy slipped in, her first order of business was to tackle one of them, pull out a switchblade, and cut their throat with it before stealing their gun and turning visible again, shooting the other two workers in the heads. She then took their guns and started walking. It went like clockwork from there. The people she shot, the people she stabbed or cut, the people whose faces she beat in, the people whose throats or hearts she ripped out, the people whose necks she broke, it all blended together. Maybe it was better that way. Her nightmares were bad enough as it was. She tuned back into reality as she was using someone as a living shield in a shootout. When she ran out of ammo, she hurled the guy into the last shooter and went invisible, stomping on the last shooter’s arm to shatter it before taking his gun. Two shots to the head, and that part of the job was over. Amy sighed and sat on a nearby chair, clearing her head. Then she got up to find important stuff, which mainly consisted of a briefcase with papers and a tablet in it. There was also a safe full of cash, which her hammer made quick work of. Maybe she could get Cream a new bed for her pet with this. Or get Sonic an upgrade for his wheelchair. It already could hover and all, but she wanted it to be as good as it could get. She could decide later. She pocketed the cash, grabbed the briefcase, took what she could off the Empire workers, and left the briefcase in the dumpster. Once she was in her car, she got another call. “Good work, Amy. I knew I could count on you.” Amy sighed in reply and kept driving. She had to wash off.

#hotline mobius #overalls #sonic.exe au #sonic.exe oc #sonic.exe

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dreamsausage · 1 year

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REALLY LONG DREAM

had a dream where I was playing a new game on my switch. it was set in this really light and floaty place that was mainly floating islands. the game started with me being a little kid with light green hair who was trapped in a burning building with a few other kids. it was pretty dark so I'm guessing it was the evening. he was scared but he wanted to help the other kids get out, so he got up and tried to find a way through.

that was where gameplay started. I learned interact (a), motion controls (lstick to walk, b to jump, rstick to pan camera) and what the hp system was like. it was done through a pretty little guided gameplay scene where a sparkly green thing would float above the next objective. before moving on, I had to pick up some important items — a diary, a round silver pendant and a pair of gloves.

the kid walked through some of the building with the kids a little way behind him. he grabbed a burning plank and took some damage when he moved it out of the way. then he turned around and saw that a bit of the roof was going to collapse on one of the kids. he immediately ran over to protect them before the roof fell. there was hissing and a lot of smoke, and the other kids were staring at the pile of rubbish.

then it started to move. the kids stepped back and then the rubbish lifted up, letting the other kid out, and showing that green boy had turned into a huge spider monkey???. the rest of the group managed to climb out of the burning building, and I had a lot more interact options as the monkey to help me move about in the building more.

when the group got outside, there was a group of people waiting and attempting to put the fire out. green boy glowed for a second and turned back into normal, but looked really confused about what had just happened. this really tall old guy walked over to the kids and said he would help em out.

It cut to a different floaty island, and it was the next day. the other kids were told that they could choose a guardian that would protect them when they were in danger. on the table in front of them were a series of differently shaped pendants and kinds of gloves. the first kid, a small girl with dark hair, walked up and took the set she liked the most. immediately after she put the gloves on, there was a pulse of energy and her eyes got two shades brighter.

tall guy explained that she'd chosen the falcon and she would have to go to another island in order to learn how to use it. she was met by a tall lady with a similar set to her. this lady picked the girl up, and then promptly jumped off the island. everyone froze for a second, but then a giant pinkish-purple eagle flew upwards with the little girl on its back. looks like that was the one that lady chose lol

green boy was nudged forward next by one of the kids. when he went up to the table, he felt a slightly smaller pulse of energy than the little girl, and then turned to the tall guy and said "I think I already have one. it feels weird to choose more than one"

tall guy said "don't worry it can feel weird when you've only just gotten one. maybe when you know your first one better we can get you another" and green boy seemed to like that.

green boy stayed by tall guy's side for the rest of the kids' choices. by the end of it there were about six left on the table. a shorter lady in blue came over and scooped them up into a box to put them away for later. tall guy walked green boy over to another segment of the sky island that stuck out a little, and was a little way away from another sky island. there were big shards of floating rock separating the two islands.

tall guy explained to green boy that in order to bring out the guardian thingy, you have to have a good enough reason for it to come out. it's a sentient being, and it makes its own choices. most people have to find several reasons in one situation in order to bring it out, and different reasons carry more weight that will make it want to help out more.

he showed green boy how to focus in on his currently collected reasons (zr for reason menu), but was confused when green boy said there was already a reason there, but he couldn't figure out what it was. the only explanation tall guy could think of was that his guardian had come up with its own reason, but wasn't ready to disclose it with green boy just yet.

anyway, a good reason to start with would be that he wants to get to know his guardian better, so green boy thought that to himself, and the reason went up into his reasons menu. it was sorted under colour categories, and this reason was blue, which meant "short-term reasons". that meant that by the time this mission was over, the reason would have run out and would no longer work for the guardian to come out. the secret reason was filed under green, but it was unclear what this meant.

but after all that was explained, tall guy told green boy to run headfirst towards the edge of the sky island and try to jump towards one of the floating rocks — when he was ready of course. green boy was uncertain, but I just went "fuck it" and ran (press and hold zl while moving lstick). a moment before I was going to reach the edge, time slowed down and a prompt told me to press Y to bring forward the guardian.

pressing y gave me a list that I could move with my R and L buttons, but the only options I had were either green boy (a symbol that looked like his silhouette) or the first guardian (a symbol that looked like a stylised spider monkey silhouette). I guessed that this probably meant that later on I would gain more guardian options. it also told me which form was recommended under each symbol, and the monkey guardian was labelled as recommended for this challenge.

I had to select monkey so I did, and green boy glowed and turned into the monkey. it auto-jumped off the platform and I was able to interact with the first rock to grab on and pull myself towards it. After landing my feet on the rock I began sliding down and had to press a to interact with the next rock so I didn't slide off the edge. I kept going and jumping towards the rocks, but then on the last rocks I was hit with a choice. choose a sandy-looking rock, or one that looked like the ones I chose before. I picked the normal looking rock and when I landed on it, the other rock shattered and fell away. I then jumped onto the second island on the other side, and pressed Y again to switch back to green boy.

a cutscene started and green boy turned around to look back at the course. he saw a huge blue monkey similar to his guardian jumping through it. when the blue monkey landed, it turned back into the tall guy. the rocks they had jumped on slid into the shape of a bridge and locked into place. tall guy patted green boy on the back and said "you're a natural!" and then the two of them walked towards the centre of this small island.

tall guy said "if you want to, you can change certain things about the way your guardian works and moves around. you have to collect these things to do that."

he led green boy towards a ring on the ground. in the centre of the ring there was a little metal thing in the shape of a hand. when green boy picked it up, his pendant thing opened up and the hand thing went inside it. this opened another menu where he could customise his guardian. there was a little model of how the guardian looks, and it gave the choice between the default arms and a new set which had a further reach, letting them interact with things from further away, on a little scroll bar. there were other scroll bars, but it said I had to collect more pieces in order to unlock them.

I obviously selected those arms, and the little model changed to have different arms. cool

when I came out of the menu, tall guy said to green boy, "wanna give your guardian's new skills a try?"

the two of them walked to the far edge of the island and tall guy said

"there's an upgrade up there that lets you change the colour of your guardian"

tall guy pointed up to where it was.

"if your guardian knows there's an upgrade, that's reason enough for it to want to help. your guardian appears to be more amiable than most — its reason is still there."

it opened up the reasons menu and the name of the green category was revealed. it was called "permanent reasons". it seemed that this reason was going to stay here forever. the exact contents of the reason was still obscured.

before I could explore more of the islands, I woke up. although, just before I woke up I saw what the alt colour of the monkey was supposed to be — bright red with orange elements, like a fire monkey. it was cool.

I know that there were other levels to the game, and this character would travel to these areas to help people or complete missions. collecting the reasons was like collecting quests, and after the quests were done, the reasons were completed and stored into a grey category for "depleted reasons".

while I was playing the game, a bunch of little kids came into my house, and they were apparently coming here for lunch before going on a trip. dad was running a youth group or something. they were all pretty little but they were nice enough and very interested in my game. they were there for the last half of my dream before I woke up.

#dream #dreams #sausagedreams #lu dreams of video games again :')#long sauspost #this was an absolutely INSANE dream.#it's definitely one of the most detailed dreams I've ever written down #I had to write it in 2 parts on my notes app because I ran out of space #fire tw #injury tw

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primofate · 2 years

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Hello! I saw the request so I wanted to see if I could get in, I tried to convert it to my time so hopefully I did do it correctly and it's within the time slot (if not please ignore this).

Can I request Xiao with a frail reader? Like gets hurt easily and can't over exert themselves or they end up passing out.

This is interesting! :D Thanks anon. I shall do a headcanon with a short drabble.

scenario: Xiao with a frail gn!reader

Note: bruising easily and getting tired easily might just be because you’re “frail” but it could also be because you’re anemic. Get checked. :P

Warnings: soft Xiao, overprotective Xiao, slightly humorous, not proofread

Xiao

Xiao is not just physically strong but his mental strength is up there too. He has to struggle with his karmic debt and he’s done that for a looooong time.

So when he meets you, he doesn’t quite understand how fragile you are. He’s met fragile people before, yes, but not like you.

You’re fragile in a way where a slight bump could grow purple within the next few hours. You get sick nearly weekly and you’re out of breath just by one flight of stairs in the Wangshu Inn.

Xiao dubbed you as incredibly weak. He might have actually been scared to even approach you because he felt as if one look from him might send you flying, or something.

He asked Verr Goldet “Why did you employ someone so weak?” (It got in the way of your work from time to time)

Verr Goldet answered with a sly smile “Why don’t you get to know ‘em a little and find out?”

Of course he didn’t do that.

Until you were the one tasked to bring his daily meal of almond tofu up to the rooftop.

He understood a bit more. Despite being frail your customer service was top notch. Friendly smile, hard-working and tries your best.

Xiao secretly thinks that his day is not complete without hearing you say “Mr. Xiao, here’s your Almond Tofu!”

And then you get sick and some random inn attendant was the one who delivered his almond tofu. It didn’t taste the same.

So Xiao started to look after you:

Meet you halfway down the inn so you didn’t have to go all the way from the kitchen up to the rooftop. “I’ll take it from here,” and grabs the plate of almond tofu from you.

When you’re on cleaning duty and there’s just a huge amount of leaves everywhere a mysterious anemo wind blows them all away.

Secretly watches from afar to gauge your energy levels.

Verr Goldet notices and asks “At this rate, Xiao, perhaps YOU would like to work for the inn instead?”

Xiao doesn’t show up in front of Verr Goldet for WEEKS after that.

Xiao and you in an established relationship

“I told you to call me if you’re coming up here,” Xiao says, suddenly appearing behind you at the rooftop. You swerve around in alarm and relax when you realize it’s just him. With a smile ever so bright you jog up to him and say “I wanted to surprise you!”

He scoffs. “It isn’t worth it if you feel faint after climbing up so many flights of stairs but...” he examines your face closely, “you seem to have a lot of energy today,” he concludes.

You nod all proud, “I took a quick nap in the afternoon,”

He feels a twitch at his lips, unable to completely control his instincts to grin. “Good.” He lifts a gloved hand and slides it atop your forehead, just checking if you were burning up, or unbelievably cold. Both were bad signs you were going to be sick again. He knew it already.

Xiao when you actually nearly pass out

He knew something was wrong when you didn’t come to see him during your break time. So, he went looking for you.

He found you in the kitchen with Smiley handing you a glass of water and you looking pale.

“What happened?” Xiao enquires, strolling over to you and observing that you’re unbelievably pale and sweaty. Still, you try to smile up at him and wave it off.

“It’s just... it’s a little hotter than usual today,” you finish your water but Smiley steps out of the picture, knowing that Xiao wouldn’t even let a butterfly near you in your weakened state.

Xiao growls a little under his breath. “And you think sitting in the kitchen’ll make it better?”

“I just needed some water--”

but he touches your shoulder and in another blink of an eye, you’re out on a hill near the inn. The wind blows a breeze your way and it instantly makes you feel a hundred times better. You sigh as the wind caresses your cheeks, fresh air always made things easier, but then you remember. “Xiao! I’m not on break yet!” your head snapping towards him at the realization.

He has his arms crossed and a blank look on his face. “It doesn’t matter, Verr Goldet will understand,”

Xiao when there’s a huge bruise on you

“Where did you get that?”

Xiao always asked. Always.

Mostly because there was one day, where he found a bruise on your wrist. It was strangely placed, and he realized immediately that it was not from some kind of accident or from hurting yourself.

Someone laid hands on you.

“Their grip was just a little tight...” you tried to downplay it, “they were a little frustrated with the food and how long they were waiting for it so--”

“I don’t care, point them out,”

That customer never came back to Wangshu Inn again.

So, Xiao always had to ask. Always.

It didn’t mean that it was any better if the bruise was from a small accident, but at least he didn’t have to threaten anyone and chase a customer away.

“Oh, this is from the door handle. I wasn’t paying attention and just...accidentally hit it with my hand,”

If it was your fault, he’d stare at you. He didn’t look disappointed at all but you knew he was, and you knew what he was going to say next.

“The blacksmith at Liyue Harbour sells armor--”

“I’m not wearing armor while working Xiao!!”

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#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact drabble #xiao drabble #xiao headcanons #genshin impact xiao

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powpowpunchout · 2 years

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Ritz in the Ring!

Octave hated Don Flamenco.

He hated his stupid, uptight attitude.

He hated his smug, punchable face.

He hated everything about him.

The way Don talked? The way he constantly spoke in that ‘I’m so above you’ tone, ending every sentence with a little hum as he raised his head into the air, acting like what he just said was the greatest thing ever? Octave despised it.

The way he moved? The way he’d constantly run in place as the curled tip of his toupee bounced against his forehead, all while gesturing during his fights? It drove Octave crazy.

And the sounds he made? The way he sung to himself? The way his feet slid across the mat? The way he smelled his roses? He hated it. Octave hated it.

It didn’t matter where Octave was. In the ring, among the audience, in the locker room, it didn’t matter. Octave could hear that ear grating sniff from a mile away.

Even thinking about that sound made Octave want to tear his ears off.

Oh, how Octave hated him.

But you know what Octave loved about Don Flamenco?

You want to know what he absolutely loved?

Beating him.

The thought of hitting Don over and over again, interrupting every little sound he’ll make thrilled Octave.

It’ll especially feel great after Don had ratted him out about the origami to Macho Man.

Octave gripped onto his black boxing gloves tighter as he marched through the hall, getting closer and closer to the ring walk.

He stared at the metal doors ahead. The voices of hundreds of fans and photographers filled his ears, getting louder and louder with each step. He grinned.

He wanted to ruin Don Flamenco.

He wanted to bust his lips and make ‘em bleed. He wanted to make his eyes so swollen and purple not even his mascara could hide it. He wanted to knock his head so far back his toupee would fly off.

Octave could feel it.

Today was the day Don was going down.

He had been training for weeks, he won his last fight, and heck, Great Tiger had wished him luck earlier today. Even he knew Octave was gonna win.

When Octave approached the set of doors, he threw them open. Cold air and the screams of people blasted him in the face.

His grin only grew wider as he took in the world around him.

The dark blue stadium filled to the brim with hundreds of people. Colorful, blinding lights flashing. Giant speakers blaring music loud enough to shake the world. And every single stage light pointed to the ring.

To Don Flamenco.

Octave grit his teeth, that crooked smile still on his face as he started marching over to the ring, pushing aside any fans, photographers, and reporters in his way.

Nearby cameras clicked and flashed. Audience members cheered and hissed. Paparazzi hollered and questioned. Yet he ignored them.

He could hear machines he passed by whirr and pop as white and blue smoke came out of them. Spotlights shone in his face. But he never took his eyes off the stage. Off his opponent.

Look at Mr.Pretty-Boy over there in his tacky boxing attire, smilin’ with a rose in his mouth, posing as if he’s already won.

The two boxers locked eyes.

Don grabbed his rose and spat a thorn out. He brought it close to his face and made sure to do a long, drawn out sniff. Even with all this noise, Octave could hear it.

Octave climbed onto the stage and stepped over the ropes. A loud voice boomed from the speakers, announcing both his and Don’s presence. The crowd roared.

As Octave started shoving his bandaged hands into his gloves, Don started tapping his feet. Octave grumbled and turned away. He checked to make sure the white buttons on his gloves were secure before facing Don again.

The referee entered the ring. He adjusted his black bowtie before motioning for the two boxers to come to the center.

The men were face to face. The referee started going over the rules.

They ignored him.

They’ve already heard this junk before.

All they did was glare at each other as the geezer went off.

Don confidently raised a brow. Octave scowled.

The referee was starting to wrap up.

Don raised his head high.

Octave brushed his hair down with his gloves. He kept going until his vision was nearly obscured. Until all he could see were slivers of light and Don Flamenco.

Octave listened and waited. Waited for the referee to finish talking. Waited for him to shout that glorious, glorious word–

“FIGHT!”

As soon as that left his lips, Octave threw the first punch.

~ ~ ~

Piston Hondo entered the locker room, he held onto the strap of his red gym bag as he kept repeating his plan for the day in his head.

He wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He just needs to drop off his belongings, grab his bandage wraps, and catch up on training.

Usually he’d work out at home, but recently he’s been catching himself slacking. Even when he’d push himself for hours on end, even when he refused to take breaks so he wouldn’t waste a single second, it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

Hondo thought that perhaps the environment of WVBA’s training room could help him focus more. No homely feelings to waver his determination, no tea tempting him away, no distractions. Nothing. He’ll have no excuses to slack off.

As Hondo walked past rows of lockers, he shuddered as he remembered he’ll most likely have to wipe down any of the gym equipment he wanted to use beforehand. He’s seen how vile and soiled some boxers have left it before, and it made his stomach churn. That was the only downside to the training room. Some animals couldn’t bother spending a mere few minutes cleaning after themselves. Was it honestly so hard to–to…

Hondo slowed.

He took a few steps back and looked at the set of lockers behind him.

Were one of those… Ticking?

Hondo carefully approached the lockers. He listened, following the sound until he was standing right in front of Super Macho Man’s locker.

He tilted his head. Why in the world was a sound like that coming from there?

He took another step forward, hoping to peer through the slits and see what could be inside–but his foot hit something. He looked down to see a bunch of women’s phone numbers scattered about and surrounding a small, diamond-shaped sign with Aran Ryan’s face in the middle. There was a giant red X over it, and words below it reading ‘ARAN DO NOT TOUCH’. The sign looked like it had been ripped off. It looked like it had been crushed too, as Aran’s face appeared rather compressed, and were those… Bite marks?

A hand suddenly grabbed onto Hondo’s shoulder.

“Don’t go near that.”

Hondo spun around and raised his fists, ready to strike, but stopped when he saw a startled Bear Hugger.

Hondo breathed in and quickly fixed his composure, “I apologize.”

“What? No, don’t be! I’m th’one who scared ya.” Bear swatted at the air.

Hondo nodded before glancing at the glistening locker again, “Do you know what’s inside?”

“No idea.” Bear shrugged, “Few days ago, I saw Aran leavin’ th’locker room, right? ‘N he had this weird smile on his face, so I thought he’d done somethin’, ‘n sure enough when I came inside, Macho’s door was all crooked!”

Hondo’s brows lowered. The door seemed fine to him–then he narrowed his eyes.

Barely, just barely, he could make out fingerprints on the otherwise spotless locker. Macho Man would never let such ‘stains’ slide. He kept his locker so spotless, so polished that you could see your reflection in it.

“Course, I couldn’t just stand around with his door lookin’ like that, so I popped it back into place. Then I heard that tickin’...”

The two stared at the locker, the ticking filled the silence between them.

“I tried to get them cleanin’ staff members to check it out, but uhm,” Bear chuckled, “I forgot Macho has one of ‘em personal cleanin’ crews, so nothin’ can be done till he comes back.”

Hondo frowned.

Macho Man and his ridiculous standards.

He still recalled the day he had overheard a conversation Macho Man had with a WVBA staff member. ‘I don’t want no middle class mitts on my stuff, got it?’ The memory of his attitude formed a sour pit in Hondo’s stomach.

Heaven forbid anyone not up to Macho Man’s standards help him.

Hondo could only hope Macho paid his personal staff well. Those people cleaned the outside of his locker so well, it looked and shone like silver. They even polish his ridiculous number plate; the numbers were made of gold and on each side there were mini biceps. The biceps sparkled a little too brightly, and Hondo despised the fact he could see them. He despised the fact they existed in the first place.

Macho Man’s decoration used to be much worse. He used to ‘bedazzle’ his locker with golden chains, jewelry wrapped all around, and money. Actual money. Real, crisp, $100 bills that were held up by clothespins and hung from string as if they were family photos. But Macho Man had to eventually stop, as every time he’d put something up it’d go missing a few days later.

When Macho Man eventually caught Aran stealing red handed, he tore everything down and put up that Anti-Aran sign.

What Macho Man didn’t know was that Popinski also stole from him. He’s drunkenly bragged about how he’s sold that fancy jewelry and other treasures to pawn shops for drinking money. No one’s brought it up to Macho Man, though. Not yet. And they probably never will. If Popinski caught wind that someone ratted him out, who knows what that horrifying, large man would do to them.

Perhaps, just like the stolen jewels, Macho Man deserved to have the inside of his locker tampered with. If he’s so adamant on prohibiting ‘lower class’ people from cleaning his locker–from doing their job–then he only has himself to blame for what will happen. Much like he only has himself to blame for leaving such precious goods out in the open.

Does Hondo support thievery? Of course not.

But he doesn’t support Macho Man’s behavior either.

“I believe I saw his car while I was heading inside.” Hondo finally said. It was kinda hard not to see his car. Who could ignore a white and gold limo taking over fifteen parking spaces?

“Alright. That’s good t’know.” Bear folded his arms, “Hopefully he’ll come in sooner than later so I can give ‘em a heads up.”

They lingered at the locker for a moment longer.

“Welp! We can’t spend all day ‘ere. Unless ya wanna try yer luck with one o’the misses.” Bear gave Hondo a playful nudge and a wink as he motioned towards the littered phone numbers.

Hondo lightly rolled his eyes, “No. We can go.”

Bear started heading back to his locker. Hondo readjusted the straps of his bag and followed behind, but then he noticed something… Off about his friend’s hands.

~ ~ ~

Octave wound his arm up and struck Don in the face. Then he struck him again.

And again.

He didn’t give Don the chance to react. He didn’t want to.

Each grunt that left Don’s mouth motivated Octave to keep going.

Octave kept throwing hit after hit.

Don stumbled back. He shifted from side to side as he tried to regain balance. He then shook his head and dug his feet into the ground with a huff.

Octave peaked through his hair and grinned at what he saw.

Don’s mascara smeared. It left a ridiculous, black streak across his face. How is he still trying to act all serious when he looks like that?

Oh, Octave wished his gloves weren’t black just for this one moment. He’d love to see if any of Pretty boy’s makeup got on them.

Don raised his gloves into the air. Octave shook the hair back in his face.

“Come on, come on!” He heard Don shout.

Octave ran forward and swung his arm across. He felt his fist collide with Don’s jaw.

Don hissed before shouting: “Toro!”

Right on cue, Octave dodged.

Air rushed past his face as Don’s fist flew by.

Octave backed away. Through the roars of the crowd, he could hear Don’s boots slap against the mat. They were getting closer and closer–

Octave quickly stepped aside, feeling another gust of wind from another missed hit.

Through the strands of his hair, he could just barely see Don’s tacky, bright, red and yellow shorts.

He clenched his fist, fingers digging into the leather of his glove before swinging again.

His fist rammed into Don’s gut.

A pained gasp was heard. Then a thud.

Octave let out a laugh. He didn’t even see the scene yet–he didn’t need to. He recognized that wonderful sound from anywhere. And when he moved the hair out of his eyes? When he saw Don Flamenco sprawled out, face-down on the mat? He could only laugh more.

“Yeah, stay down ya schmuck!” Octave hollered, putting his hands on his hips.

The referee got between them. He raised his hand in the air as he kept his eyes on Don.

“ONE!” The ref shouted, throwing his hand down before raising it again.

Octave kept bouncing in place.

“TWO!”

He kept punching the air.

“THREE!”

His heart was racing. It felt like it could explode out of his chest at any moment.

“FOUR!”

How could anyone rest now? How could anyone stay still with the life of the stadium surrounding them?

“FIVE!”

Just looking at Don’s body sent a surge of energy through him.

“SIX!”

Don groaned. His fingers twitched before he pushed himself up. The bruises on his stomach were growing darker. Poor Don.

Poor, poor Don.

Those bruises looked so gross and out of place. His hair was an absolute wreck. The only thing left unscathed was his darling face.

Octave would be more than happy to change that.

But just seconds after Don got back on his feet, after the referee had shouted ‘Fight!’, the bell rang again, and the two had to go back to their corners.

~ ~ ~ ~

Hondo’s eyes kept darting from Bear’s hands to the back of Bear’s head. He wanted to study his friend’s hands–to see what was so off about them–but a part of him worried Bear would suddenly turn around and catch him staring.

Granted, it wasn’t like Hondo was judging Bear or anything of the sort, but he couldn’t help and feel he was being invasive.

Bear started to fix the straps of his overalls, and that’s when Hondo got a good look. That’s when he saw it.

Bandaids.

Bear’s hands were covered in bandaids.

They were so small and so close to the color of Bear’s skin that it made them so easy to miss.

“Bear,” Hondo said, “are you alright?”

Bear spun around, puzzled. He started patting himself down, “I think so. Why ya askin’?”

“Your hands.”

“Oh! That.” Bear chuckled as he raised them, showing off the many bandaids that curled around his fingers and covered the front and back of his palms, “Well, ya see I was–I was with my uh, my l’il buddies, right? And they were bein’ a real hassle this week...”

As Hondo listened to his friend’s rambles, he kept studying the bandages. He could tell many of them were slapped on without a second thought. Some were uneven, some overlapped each other, some had bumps, and some were starting to peel, revealing the injuries they were meant to cover.

“... And ya know how they can get. I was tryna give ‘em some treats th’other day and they started stealin’ from each other…”

The injuries themselves didn’t look too bad; they were tiny scratches that looked like the quick marks of a red pen.

Hondo wondered what in the world Bear was doing to garner so many of these–

A word rang through Hondo’s head.

‘Papercuts.’

Those were papercuts.

Hondo’s grip on his gym bag tightened. The strap dug into his skin while Bear kept talking.

Hondo knew about Bear’s origami, he wasn’t supposed to, but he did.

Was it worth mentioning paper in this conversation? Bear had already told his lie, so why bring it up? Why risk pressuring Bear into confessing the surprise he had planned for him and the other Major Circuit boxers? The surprise he must’ve been working so hard on behind the scenes. The surprise he cared about so much that he’d let himself get injured in hundreds of little ways all for the sake of his friends.

Was it even a surprise anymore?

Both he and Don Flamenco knew of Bear’s origami. The only one who wasn’t aware was Great Tiger. That’s nearly half of the circuit.

Hondo’s eyes traveled back to Bear’s face. He was still smiling. Still talking.

Hondo thought back to Bear’s reaction when he found the purple, paper crane at the foot of his locker a few days ago. The same paper crane Octave tried to steal. The delight in Bear’s voice as he said: ‘Well now! How’d ya end up out here, li’l fella?’ Speaking to the craft as if it were alive did put a smile on Hondo’s face.

Another question came across Hondo’s mind.

Did he and Don truly know what Bear’s surprise was?

All they did know was that origami would be a part of it, but even then that can’t be said with 100% certainty.

Hondo and Don didn’t know what Bear would be doing with the origami, what the end results would look like, nothing.

It’ll still be a surprise.

Hondo sighed with relief. He relaxed his shoulders, not realizing how stiff they’ve been, before tuning back to Bear’s words.

“--but I can’t stay mad at ‘em. They get a bit rowdy, sure, but I love ‘em all th’same.” Bear said with a chuckle as he ruffled his beard.

Hondo gave him a grin, “Of course. However, you will need to keep your hands in one piece if you plan to keep boxing. Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“Awh, psh!” Bear swatted at the air, “Gonna take a lot more than a couple’a tiny claws to mess these hands up! But I’ll be safe, pinky promise.” He raised a bandaged pinky in the air.

Hondo gave him a look before finally reaching out and locking pinkies with Bear–

“YEE-OUCH!” Bear cried out. Hondo quickly pulled away, about to apologize, but Bear gave him another light nudge, “Jus’ kiddin’.”

“Hilarious.” Hondo said as he rubbed his temples, trying to hide the grin that was on his face. Bear chuckled at his joke–and at Hondo’s reaction–before the two split off and went to their lockers.

~ ~ ~

Octave kept throwing punches in the air.

He was ready to go, he was ready to fight, but Don was taking his sweet, precious time.

He was doing it on purpose. Octave knew it. And that fact alone made Octave swing harder.

Each second Don wasted fixing his hair, spraying on perfume, or wiping his stupid face with a towel felt like an eternity.

Why didn’t he just hurry it up. Why spend all that time prettying himself up when he’s gonna get beaten anyway?

Waste of time. It’s all nothing but a waste of time.

Every moment Octave wasn’t punching Don’s face was a moment wasted.

Octave looked at Don from across the ring. He was holding a ridiculous, expensive looking bottle of floral perfume that he’s been dousing himself with.

Don saw Octave staring and locked eyes with him. He raised the bottle just a bit higher and sprayed himself again. He lifted his nose into the air and made another loud, obnoxious sniff.

Don then leaned against the ropes, plucking one as if it were an instrument before slipping the bottle between them. A man nearby reached out and held onto it.

The referee approached Don and said something to him. Don nodded then finally stepped out of his corner.

It was about time.

Octave marched over, not taking his eyes off Flamenco. Off his disgusting, bruised body.

When the two men met in the middle, Octave didn’t cover his eyes again.

Oh no.

Not this time.

Not when Don was so close to losing.

Octave was ready to put up with every agonizing sound and motion. Every foot tap, every clap, everything if it meant he could watch Don’s delicious defeat.

The referee raised his hand in the air.

“FIGHT!”

Before the man could step away, Octave threw the first punch.

Don dodged it.

Octave went to throw another. And another. Don dodged again and again.

What a coward.

Octave kept trying to land a hit on Don, but that dolt did nothing but dodge.

What a quitter.

When Octave did manage to get a few hits in, Don’s tempo only picked up.

Octave was practically chasing him around the ring now.

“What is this, some sorta dance lesson, Donny!?” Octave shouted.

He tried to strike Don from the side, but Don spun around and avoided it.

“Oh, I apologize. Am I too swift for a slow-witted man like you?”

Right as Don took another step back, Octave punched him in the face, but he only managed to get his nose.

His dumb, long nose.

That wasn’t enough.

Octave wanted to hear that thing crack. He wanted to feel Don’s skull against his glove.

But Don.

Kept.

Moving.

Away.

He was stalling. That’s what.

Nothing but dodges and running.

Octave wouldn’t be surprised if he planned on doing this until the round came to an end.

What a mouse.

All that talk about being so great, about being the top of the Major Circuit, but now that his precious title was at stake, now that Octave was so close to winning, he was fleeing.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter.

Who cares?

Octave kept chasing him.

He knew the moment he’d manage to corner Don, the moment he’d get his hands on him, Don would be done for.

Finished.

Over—

DING-DING.

The bell rang.

Don was already back in his corner.

Octave stood there and stared.

He should’ve won that round.

He knew it. Don knew it.

But no.

Donny just hated the idea of anyone else coming on top.

Octave huffed and stormed back to his corner. He couldn’t wait to get the third round done and over with.

~ ~ ~

Hondo spun the combination to his locker, going over his schedule for the day again. Refill his bottle, wrap his hands, stretch, wipe down the punching bags, train until the stadium’s closing hours…

Right as Hondo grabbed the locker’s handle, he stopped.

He slowly raised his head and tilted it ever so slightly. He could’ve sworn he had heard something.

“Y’heard that too?” He heard Bear Hugger ask. Hondo nodded, not like Bear could see.

Then they heard it again.

A holler? Someone shouting?

Whoever was talking sounded far from the locker room–

They heard the shouting again.

Another voice followed.

Then another. And another.

Before they knew it, what sounded like tens of hundreds of voices were growing closer and closer to the door. They all collided and clashed with one another, it was impossible to make out what was being said. The clicks and flashes of cameras could also be heard, their bright lights able to be seen through the cracks of the door, and then the footsteps. So, so many feet running about you could’ve mistaken their ruckus for rain.

Why were so many people in the hall? How did they get there?

This was for boxers and staff members only. Who in their right mind would be reckless enough to—

Hondo heard the door swing open and hit the wall.

“Sorry folks, The Macho’s gotta get ready!”

Of course.

Why wouldn’t it be Macho Man?

Piston’s brow twitched. He could already feel a headache forming and Macho Man hadn’t even stepped into the room yet.

Several fans whined in response, photographers begged for one last photo.

“No can do. Ya think I can just give handouts like that?” Even with Macho Man hidden behind the lockers, Hondo could perfectly envision the way he shook his head and stuck his nose up.

A few more wails could be heard.

“Alright, alright, fine. But this is the last one. YAH!”

The fact Hondo could practically hear the ridiculous pose Macho struck was painful both physically and mentally. Bashing his head against the lockers would be far more tolerable than being in close proximity to Macho.

The fans cheered, cameras flashed, a woman squealed, and Hondo’s grip on the handle only grew stronger.

The door slammed shut. Macho Man’s shoes squeaked across the floor, followed by the sound of a lock being spun.

Bear Hugger made his way over to the World Circuit boxer.

Hondo was tempted to stop him. To grab him by the arm and ask if Macho Man was truly worth the kindness, but Hondo knew his friend all too well. Once he saw someone who needed help, there was nothing in this world that could stop him.

“ ‘Scuse me, Macho Man? I wouldn’t open that if I were ya.”

Macho Man stopped. He turned and leaned against his locker, he wrapped his thumb around the light blue slash of his robe and tipped his purple shades down. He scanned Bear Hugger from head to toe.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Macho Man asked.

Bear Hugger stared at him.

Was that a joke?

It didn’t sound like a joke. Macho Man certainly wasn’t smiling.

What–

How in the world did that sound like a threat? Did Bear Hugger say it too aggressively? Even Hondo had to peek past the lockers to make sure he heard correctly.

“No, no, I was just, er—y’see, I think Aran busted in earlier and did somethin’, ya know?”

~ ~ ~

Octave leaned against the corner post. Only one thought filled his mind.

He was exhausted.

And as much as he hated that feeling, if he was tired, that meant Don was tired.

The final bell rang. Octave pushed himself off the post.

He can last for another minute.

He can last for the rest of the round. He knows he can.

The two men stood before each other again.

Don held his head high. Octave glared.

“FIGHT!”

Octave threw his arm back, but Don swiftly socked him in the face.

Octave staggered back, but before he could ready himself for Don’s next move, he was struck again on the side.

“Toro!”

Octave dodged the hit.

As Don prepared another punch, he started to tap his feet.

Octave couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Tap, tap, tap.

That’s all he could focus on. That’s all Don did.

Tap, tap, tap.

It didn’t matter where Octave looked. That stupid, stupid motion could still be seen from the corner of his eye.

He hated it. He hated it. He didn’t care if Don’s fist was flying towards him again. He wanted that ruckus to stop.

Even with all this noise, even with the audience, the screaming fans, Octave could hear it.

Tap, tap, tap.

Oh, it drove him insane.

It made him wanna scratch his ears off, it made him want to–

Don jabbed Octave in the stomach. Then another hit came. And another and another.

Octave couldn’t tell if he was gonna get sick from the injuries or from that horrible motion.

Octave tried to throw a punch himself, but it was like swinging through molasses.

Don slid across the ring, creating a piercing, painful squeak.

“Oh, you almost got me!” Don said as he covered his mouth with his glove.

Octave wanted to tear Don’s legs off. He wanted to break them.

He wanted to keep hitting them over and over until the bones snapped and jutted out of skin. He wanted to twist Don’s ankles until they–

Don threw several more punches.

Octave hardly had the chance to dodge and took most of the hits.

Everything was starting to slow for him, yet Don kept getting faster and faster. His feet were going faster and faster.

And if Octave wasn’t distracted by his shoes, then he’d be distracted by the tip of Don’s toupee.

It kept bouncing off his forehead like a thread hanging off a shirt. Octave wanted to pull it.

He wanted to rip it off.

He wanted to yank it back and take Don’s head with it.

And if the toupee wasn’t annoying him, the audience members slamming their hands against the ring’s sides were.

And if it wasn’t that, it was the whistling of fans.

Or the obnoxious clicking of the cameras.

Or the buzzing of the lights.

Or the ticking of the clock.

It was everything.

Every.

Little.

Thing.

Octave’s head kept darting around, leaping from one terrible sound to the next.

He wanted to snap at the crowd. He wanted to bash his head against the lights to stop the buzzing. He wanted to–he needed to–

Octave tore his eyes away from the audience just in time to see Don wound his arm back.

Don’s fist flew forward and Octave flew back.

Octave thought he’d have a little time to prepare for the next attack, but he was wrong.

Soon another hit came, then another, and another, again and again.

Every part of him that wasn’t shielded got struck.

Every twist and turn Octave’s body took to try and avoid the attacks was only met with more hits.

And when Don stopped, Octave cracked an eye open.

Don raised his fist high into the air and flicked his wrist. He smirked and gave Overload a wink.

Octave braced himself, but Don took these last moments to gracefully twirl in place before punching Octave in the face.

Octave fell onto the disgusting, cold, sweaty floor.

His body ached. His head was pounding.

He heaved as he turned onto his stomach. Every movement sent a surge of pain through him.

As Octave tried to push himself up, the referee walked over.

“ONE!”

“Please! I paid good money to keep animals like Aran outta my stuff.” Macho Man smiled confidently, giving his locker a hard knock.

“TWO!”

“Yeah, but he—he still got in.” Bear said. Piston Hondo joined his side, glaring at Macho Man.

“THREE!”

“Obviously not. My locker’s still closed, ain’t it?” Macho Man said as if the two were blind. As if he wasn’t the one completely glossing over the ruined Aran sign.

“FOUR!”

“It’s alright, Bear.” Hondo put a hand on his friend’s arm, “Your efforts are appreciated, but if Macho Man wishes to open his locker, so be it.”

“FIVE!”

“Exactly. Why don’tcha listen to Pesto over there.” Macho Man turned back to his locker, “I gotta photoshoot I need’a get ready for, and I don’t need more time wasted by th’likes of you.”

“SIX!”

Bear Hugger was about to ask what was wrong with people like them, but Hondo shook his head.

“SEVEN!”

Macho Man spun his locker’s combination. Hondo and Bear Hugger watched.

“EIGHT!”

When the lock clicked, the two stepped back.

“NINE!”

Macho Man opened his locker then stopped. Hondo and Bear peered past him to see what was inside. It looked like a thin, small machinery crudely made out of scrap metal. Then it made a loud CLACK.

“TEN!”

“What the—“ Before Macho Man could finish, the machine started to sputter wildly. Ink started shooting out from its metal tip. Bear Hugger quickly stood in front of Hondo, shielding him as ink sprayed everywhere. Macho Man cursed and reached inside. He grabbed the device and crushed it, causing the remaining ink to burst out and douse him entirely. All Macho could do now was stand in a puddle of ink. Broken machine still in his hand. In utter shock.

“KNOCKOUT!”

#punch out #punch out oc #punch out piston hondo #punch out bear hugger #punch out super macho man #punch out don flamenco #fic #art #punch out!!#punch out wii

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Harry Hook x Reader - Haunting frights - Halloween oneshot

“No, not happenin’”

It was Halloween night, and the main sets of vks all stood in the main hall of Bens castle, the younger vks, such as Skipper and Sterling, were already out in the kingdom trick or treating with Harriet and CJ, leaving the rest to mingle at Beast and Belle’s Halloween bash.

And Chad had dared them all to go to the old Gracey mansion that many of the Auradon children went to on all hallows eve night. Hoping to get scared from the supposed haunts that wandered within the decaying walls of the ‘abandoned’ mansion.

And while most of the vks were good with going, there was one particular pirate who did not do ‘scary’ or ‘haunted’ things. And that pirate was Harry Hook, dressed as a cursed (think black pearl) version of himself, his black sclera contact covered eyes glaring at Chad as the prince grinned at him “there is no way im steppin’ foot in tha’ nasty ol’ house, what if it isn’t sound anymore?”

“Harry” Uma interrupted, her tone bored “you actually jumped off a roof yesterday, what’s got you shaken about a house that is a bit creaky”

“Do I have ta’ tell yeh again Uma” Harry whined, bouncing on his heels a bit “controool, I had control over jumping and had safe landing ahead of time. Going inta’ a creepy decayin’ ol’ house has no control whatsoever”

“And here I thought Harry wasn’t scared of nothing” Mal muttered to Ben, who snickered a bit as Harry continued to push against the idea of all of them going to the mansion.

“Are you guys talking about the old Gracey mansion?” Harry felt his body flood with butterflies as your voice suddenly appeared from behind him, he turned and smiled at you, once again admiring your costume (which is whatever yall want it to be).

“uh-“ Harry tried to explain what had been going on the last few moments but Chad interrupted.

“yeah, dared em to go, but Harry’s being a-“ Chad was stopped by Harry’s hand slapping over his mouth and Harry's black eyes glaring down at him, making the prince shiver in his shined boots.

“Oh, I've been wanting to go there forever, never had the chance to” you hummed out, stepping next to harry and smiling at him “can I go with you guys?” Uma snorted to herself; Harry was putty under your hands so she was just waiting for Harry’s strong resolution to break for you.

“uh, sure. Yeh can go with us” Harry said, his voice cracking a bit, yet to realize what he had just agreed to. Uma smiled and rolled her eyes, just like she said, putty in your hands. Chad laughed under Harry’s glove and took out his phone, sending the directions to Jay who was most likely going to drive everyone out.

“have fun you guys, and don’t die of fright!” Chad teased, yelping as Harry and Mal swiped at him. Chad bolted back into the ballroom where the party was still going.

“alright” Jay sighed, pulling out his phone from his skeleton pants “I guess we're going to the Gracey mansion.” The vks (plus Ben and Jane, who were going for their s/o’s) left the castle hall and piled into one big black van, Jay and Carlos in the front while everyone else climbed into the back, you and Harry chilling in the front row with Gil and Ben. (Harry is a long boi, he gets front row privilege)

Harry curled into you as Jay drove the van out of Auradon city and into the more rouge area of the enchanted woods, and while the trees seemed to be taken care of and lush with life, there was an eerie air to the forest surrounding them that sent chills down everyone's spine.

“Okay, this is a bit freakier than I thought it was going to be” Mal muttered, pressing the side of her face to Evie’s shoulder. Dizzy and Evie hummed in agreement, while Celia was sticking her face to the window to watch the creepy trail pass her by. (girl is the daughter of a shadow man, she doesn’t get scared by ‘freaky’ things that much)

Harry grabbed your arm as a fog started to flood the road and surrounding area, Jay quickly switched to the low beams as he slowed down on the dirt road. You absolutely didn’t mind Harry's hand on you, in fact, you moved your arm up and intertwined your fingers as you spotted the large looming shadow of the mansion coming closer through the fog. “wow” you muttered, leaning forward a bit to get a better look “its…not as decayed as I thought it would be?”

And you were right, the outside seemed almost pristine, the paint looked almost new, the gardens perfectly tended to, not a leaf on the path leading up to the main gates. It was as if someone had been taking care of the house the entire time.

Jay slowed to a stop just outside the black metal gates and turned off the car, and everyone started to climb out, Celia and Dizzy being the first to hit the dirt. You stepped next to them, eyes on the house number on the stone pillars that supported the main gates.

“nine-hundred and ninety-nine” you hummed, stepping back close to Harry and the others as you looked around the lot of the mansion “place is kinda nice actually” Celia nodded in agreement but everyone was still heavily creeped out.

“come on” Harry mutated, walking towards the gates and preparing to climb them “let’s get this over with” but before he could grab them, the metal gates slowly swung open, the screech of metal echoing across the courtyard. “okay” Harry shivered, shaking his arms a bit “that was creepy”

For once, everyone was in agreement, Celia and Dizzy clinging to Uma and Evie as the group walked into the courtyard, and your eyes were immediately caught by the large graveyard that nearly surrounded the mansion. “this place is huge” you muttered, stopping as you spotted a faint light moving from one window of the mansion to the next “is that a-?”

All of a sudden Jane screamed, leaping backward towards Carlos and Gil, the two tensing up as a lanky shadow holding a lantern came near the group “who's there, show yerself!” Harry yelled out, hand resting on his sword and hook at the ready.

The shadow came into the moon-light, his gaunt face finally Illuminated “I think I have more right to ask you that boy” the old man croaked out, next to him, his dog wearily looked at the group. “im the groundskeeper, my job to keep the outside lookin’ like this” you glanced at the house, then looked at the windows, spotting a few cobwebs inside.

“who takes care of the inside then?” you asked, gripping onto Harry's hand as he backed away from the groundskeeper.

The old man suddenly looked afraid, glancing at the mansion. He started to shake, his lantern clanking a bit “they do” Ben looked confused at that, stepping forward a bit.

“They who?” Ben asked, jumping a bit as the groundskeeper shook his head.

“They, the ghosts, they command the mansion within its walls” he croaked out, turning to go back into the graveyard, then he stopped “you-you all don’t plan to step inside? Do you?”

“We got dared” Jay supplied, and the groundskeeper shook his head again.

“Be wary, for there have been some who go inside, who never come out, and they join the haunt.” He looked up to the mansion “for your sake, I hope you don’t meet your demise” when Mal was going to ask him what he meant by that he walked away, his lantern disappearing behind the hills of the graveyard

You jumped a bit as you heard the sound of horse hoofs and a moving carriage, and you looked around, continuing to grip onto Harry's arm “yeh hear tha’ too?” Harry whispered, his now contactless free eyes looking around wildly.

“yeah” you muttered, pulling Harry along as Jay started to walk up the path to the mansion. “let's go” Harry nodded, moving his hand up to grab your hand and following after you. He stood on the bottom step with you as Jay went to open the doors, finding them surprisingly unlocked. “ye’d think a place like this would be locked?” Harry said aloud, the group nodded in agreement and walked into the mansion, where you found the inside was much more…. decrepit than the outside.

Cobwebs, dust, spiders, rats, bats, faded wallpaper, ripped furniture, broken mirrors, long melted candles, rumpled carpets, chipped and peeling paint. It was just…haunting.

“I guess we start from here? Try to stay together” Ben announced, taking out a mini flashlight and clicking it on, but he only made it a few feet before it quickly flickered out “uhhhh, that’s not supposed to happen” Ben muttered, using the moonlight streaming through a dusty window to take out the batteries, blow on them, and put them back in. But as he tried to click the flashlight on, nothing happened “these are new batteries! I just bought them yesterday.”

Mal frowned, looking around the main foyer they were in, and grabbed a candelabra. She waved her hand just above the candles, and they ignited with flames. “there” Mal muttered, handing it to Ben “that can’t be drained of power”

Ben smiled in thanks and continued down the main hall, the group entering into a large room with four portraits that decorated the walls surrounding him. Gil let out a small whistle, admiring the gargoyles that were stationed above them. “cool room” he mumbled, stopping as he noticed the door they had entered through had disappeared. “uh guys?”

Uma and Jay turned to look at him “the doors gone” Ben spun around at that, Harry rushing towards where the door had been and slamming against it.

“WHAT THE FUCK” Harry yelled out as Ben looked worriedly around the room, maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea if they were going to get stuck in one room.

Welcome, foolish mortals; to the haunted mansion.

Everyone screamed as a sudden disembodied voice echoed around them, Celia and Dizzy clinging to Uma as you and Harry slammed into each other, wrapping your arms around each other tightly “w-what the fuck!?” Carlos yelled, whipping his head around to possibly find a speaker “okay if this place is actually haunted I’m going to kill Chad!”

I, am your host; your… ghost host

The disembodied voice, the ‘ghost host’, chuckled sinisterly, and the gargoyles candles suddenly flared to life, sending everyone into another screaming fit. Mal’s eyes glowed bright green with panic, and Uma’s shell began to glow as well.

Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you can see paintings of some of our guests, as they appear in their…corruptible, mortal state.

Mal clenched her fist and it ignited with green fire, about to blast her way out of the room when Uma stopped her “girl you’re just gonna burn the whole place down and us with it! We have to think this through” she tossed Mal's hand down as the fae glared at her “we don’t have time for rash decisions if we want to make it out unscathed, so no fires.” Mal just bared her teeth a bit and pouted to Ben, who offered a single sympathetic pat.

Jane screamed a bit as the room suddenly started to stretch, the group staring in horror as the paintings turned from creepily charming, to hauntingly horrific.

Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding. Almost as if you sense a disquieting metamorphosis.

The ‘ghost host’ chuckled again, and the paintings continued to stretch along with the room.

Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination? Hmm? And consider this dismaying observation; this chamber has no windows and no doors.

Which offers you this chilling challenge! To find a way out! Hahahaha~!!

Of course, there's always…my way~

The room went dark and from above a man, no a corpse, was hanging from the rafters which you could see through the broken glass ceiling. Suddenly, the room seemed to drop, the group screaming as a high-pitched scream echoed along with you. The room crashed into the ground and the lights flared back to life, and a secret door on the opposite side of the room creaked open.

Oh~ I didn't mean to frighten you prematurely~

The ‘ghost host’ chuckled again as the group rushed out of the room, desperate to get out of that death trap.

“oh really?” Uma muttered sarcastically, holding Celia and Dizzy’s hands as Gil was busy huddling with Jane and Carlos. “hard to believe.”

The real chills come later. Now, as they say ‘look alive’. And we’ll continue our little tour. And let's all stay together, please.

The group wearily walked down a dark and cold hallway, shadows of dead trees, that were definitely not dead outside, dancing across the walls. You looked up at the portraits decorating the right side of the hall, and you could swear you saw them change into a monstrous version of themselves. You regripped Harry's arm, and continued along with the group, shivers running down your spine as you felt eyes on you.

Harry glanced to the side, glaring at two stone busts that seemed to follow them. But that was impossible…right? He huffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back to group that had gone ahead slightly “don’ leave us behind” Harry gruffed out, Gil reaching out and grabbing Harry’s other hand as he caught up with them.

Harry jumped as the ‘ghost host’ began to speak again as they walked into the main stairway, the marble flooring and stairs that were once shiny and new, was cracked with dust and decay.

There are several prominent ghosts who have retired here, from creepy old crypts, all over the world. Actually, we have nine hundred and ninety-nine happy haunts here~ but there's room for one more, any volunteers ~?

Jane shook her head with a prominent ‘nope’ slipping from her lips, Jay slowing down a bit to look at the top of the stairs after a shimmer caught his eye, he tilted his head, trying to figure out if he had imagined it or not.

If you insist on lagging behind, you may not deed to volunteer.

Jay squeaked and bolted forward to catch up with his friends, feeling something following close behind, but he dared not look back. He slammed into Mal, who stumbled to catch herself “that’s what you get for falling behind” she wheezed under his weight, Jay shook slightly, looking back down the pitch-black hallway.

“I hate it here” he muttered, climbing off of Mal and hurrying to step beside Ben “let’s get out of here, quickly”

“I think we might have to take the tour first” Ben whispered worriedly, lifting the candelabra higher to get a better look at the new hallway they were entering.

We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat, every room has wall to wall creeps~ and hot and cold, running chills~

You entered another long hallway, and to your right you saw another hallway, freezing as you noticed the floating candlestick on the other side. “uh, Harry?” you whispered, pressing yourself further into his side “um” he looked to where you were looking and froze as well, wide eyes locked onto the candlestick that was moving around with no human holding it.

“fuck that” he whispered, grabbing your hand and starting to move down the hall away from the floating candlestick but was stopped by the suit of armor suddenly moving and attacking the rest of the group.

Ben and Mal screamed, Ben grabbing Mal's hand and the two bolting off in the direction of the floating candlestick hall. Evie, Uma, Celia, and Dizzy running down the main hallway where you had been heading and disappearing into the darkness. Carlos, Jane, and Gil ran off back towards the main hall, all screaming their heads off.

“fuck fuck fuck” Harry squeezed your hand and ran after Uma and the girls, taking out his lighter and quickly lighting up another candelabra before taking it and running with you again, hand clenched tightly around yours.

You passed by a room with a coffin inside, a corpse inside trying to get out, a hallway full of doors with haunts and monsters behind them trying to break through, a clock that spun constantly, and haunting mini portraits.

Finally, you burst into a large room, with a floating crystal ball in the middle, a woman's head inside as she seemed to be summoning spirits from within the house.

‘Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat; call in the spirits, wherever they're at. Rap on a table; it's time to respond. Send us a message from somewhere beyond. Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween: awaken the spirits with your tambourine. Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond; let there be music, from regions beyond! Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell, give us a hint, by ringing a bell!”

As the woman spoke, bells, tambourines, knocks, and music started to play from the blackness surrounding the room “is it just me or does she sound like Mal’s mom?” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the woman’s séance. Harry nodded in agreement, if anything, she also sounded like Dizzy’s grandma. (lil fact; Madame Leota is voiced by Eleanor Audley, who also voiced Maleficent, and Lady Tremaine)

You continued out of the room, jumping as the ‘ghost host’ began to speak again after almost half an hour.

The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations, and are beginning to materialize

“Beginning?” Harry muttered, glancing back at the pitch-black room you had both just excited and walking onto a large balcony hallway that hangover what looked like a mid-sized ballroom.

They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me. I'll see you two, a little later.

As you looked over the rails, you spotted maybe more than 25 haunts partying down below, along with them seemingly celebrating a birthday party, if the old woman ghost blowing out candles was to be of any hint. your attention was directed to a group of dancers and a man playing a large organ, skulls flying out the top where the notes echoed from.

“looks like they’re having fun” you muttered, taking Harry's hand again as he started to walk down the balcony hall “where do you think Uma and the girls went?”

“I have no clue, lets jus’ find a way out” he muttered, lifting the candelabra towards a flight of stairs that seemed to lead to a large cold room illuminated in a soft blue glow. He turned to the left, where the hallway continued in pitch-black darkness. He sighed, grabbing your hand again and creeping up the stairs, ready to grab his hook and sword if need be.

You slowed down as a heartbeat started to echo from the back of the attic you were entering, the cold wind from a broken widow sending chills down your spine as you looked around the room. it was littered with decaying wedding gifts and wedding portraits, the husbands changing to have their heads gone then reappear every few seconds. “creepy” you muttered, freezing in place as a woman's raspy voice started to echo from where the heart was beating.

‘Here comes the bride... For better or for... worse,’ the woman laughed, a cruel, sinister one that left you with a pit in your stomach ‘We'll live happily ever... after, Till death... do us part...’ as you rounded the corner, you both froze in fear as you spotted the ghostly form of a bride, staring the two of you down with a sinister smile on her face, her eyes black with a horrific past. ‘oh, a new husband’ she purred, floating towards you and Harry as you started to quickly step back to avoid her ‘don’t worry, I’ll take good….care….of him’ she laughed again, that cruel laugh that had ominous intentions behind it.

“over my dead body,” you muttered, grabbing Harry’s hand and running out of the attic, the bride picking up something metal and chasing after you and Harry. Harry dropped the candelabra, the lit candles thankfully extinguishing as they hit the floor. You raced down the attic steps and took a hard right, away from the haunting party and into the dark hall, the bride still hunting you down.

You looked behind you and screamed, her black eyes glowing yellow as she held a sharp hatchet. “run, RUN” you yelled out, Harry gripping your hand tightly as you rushed down a set of stairs that left into the hallway of doors, the ghouls behind it even louder and rougher this time as they continued to try to escape.

‘Here comes the bride~’ the bride taunted as you ran into the main stairway area from earlier and ran forward into the hallway on the other side. Harry panted as he skidded to a stop and pulled you through an open door, going down the steep steps with swift footsteps and keeping you close.

You shivered as you ran into a wall of cold, looking around the darkness you realized you were in the crypt. ‘there you are’ The bride appeared behind you and you and Harry screamed in fear, collapsing to the floor, Harry protecting you in his arms as the bride raised her hatchet to the sky. ‘till death, do us part!’

“Harry I just want you to know I have the biggest crush on you!” you yelled quickly, tears pricking at your eyes as Harry held you close.

“same here!” Harry yelled back, closing his eyes in preparation for feeling metal about to be embedded in his head.

Behind you, through the exit of the crypt that lead to the above-ground gave yard, the sun began to rise, beams of light shining through the hall. The bride, just as she was about to swing down on Harry’s head, disappeared as soon as the first beam hit her. She screamed in frustration, having been banished back to the attic until the next nightfall.

A cold blast of wind blew across your bodies, and you opened your eyes to see the bride gone “Harry” you patted his chest quickly, sitting up with his arms still around you “she's gone” you turned, smiling as you spotted the beams of light “its day!”

Harry snapped open his eyes and sat up, smiling and laughing as he turned to see the sunlight “we made it!” Harry cheered, you both hugged so tightly, Harry falling on his back as you both laughed.

“We didn’t die~!!” you cheered, sitting back up and cupping his cheeks “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

He didn’t answer, just grabbing your face and pressing a hard passionate kiss to your lips. You tossed your arms around his neck and held him tight, tilting your head and deepening the kiss as best as you could.

You split after a few moments, you pecked his lips one last time and stood, holding your hand out to him “let's get outta here” you smiled, Harry grinned back and grabbed your hand, the two of you bolting out of the crypt, with a tiny little ghoul waving you goodbye from down below in the crypt. Along with the ‘ghost host’ calling goodbye.

You rushed out into the sunlight, gasping in relief as you saw the rest of your friends standing in the courtyard arguing over something. As you got closer you heard Uma talking over the rest of them “(y/n) and Harry is still in there! We need to go find them!”

“that place is a maze!” Mal countered, crossing her arms “I say we stay out here until they-hey there they are!” Mal pointed behind Uma to you and Harry, who were running up to the group.

“HOLY SHIT YOU TWO” Uma screamed, bolting over to you and hugging you and Harry tightly “we lost you so early into the night! I thought you were gonna be in there forever!”

“so did we” you chuckled weakly, sharing a smile with Harry. That bride…if it had been a moment longer to sunrise, you’d probably be without a Harry. Gil joined the hug a moment later, rubbing the back of Harry's head.

“dude” he pulled away, grabbing Harry's shoulders “there was this ghost, and its head disappeared into its box”

“We saw a woman’s head inside a floating crystal ball, and a crazy bride with a hatchet.” Harry said back, Gil laughed and hugged Harry again as Uma clung to you.

“How bout we all get out of here, never come back, and get some sleep …and food” Ben offered, the group immediately agreed and started to walk out of the courtyard, Ben offering a courteous wave to the groundskeeper who looked surprised to see you all alive.

He waved goodbye and watched the van drive off, you and Harry cuddled in the front, holding hands as the mansion disappeared from view.

-end-

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@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

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@thecaptainsgingersnap @verboetoperee

@saryguerrero

#disney descendants #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook #haunted mansion fic #halloween fic #harry hook imagine

204 notes · View notes

angelamajiki · 4 years

Note

Can I request something?!

We try to escape Overhaul but he catches us but as a punishment seeing as we don't like him he gives us to Rappa so he can do what he wants to us for a week and in the end we go back to him and he has you never wanting to even step out your room.

Is that fine? Anyways stay safe, drink water, wear a mask, and keep up the great work!

PARINGS: Rappa x AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, watersports, noncon, facefucking, teasing, manhandling, scumbag rappa

AN: thank you nonnie!! <33

Kai had caught you trying to escape. Or rather, Rappa was the one who actually caught you, laughing and jeering at your cries and the pounding of your small fists on his back. Your captor was not amused in the slightest as his henchman emerged into his office with you tucked a little too snuggly over his shoulder.

“Caught your lil’ scrub tryin’ to escape, boss.” Rappa cackled, sitting you down on the chair in front of the yakuza leader’s desk. “Damn, does she squeal like a pig.”

He clapped his hand over your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The man had taken a liking towards you, meaning to say that he enjoyed watching Kai dole out punishments for when you tried to escape or otherwise upset him, which wasn't hard to do.

“Yes, she does.” Kai sighed, brows furrowed deeply in irritation. “What am I going to do with you, pet? Do I not provide for you, care for you? How can I get you to behave, hm?”

Tapping a finger against his forehead, he signed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape because anywhere else is better than being here with you, Overhaul.” You spat venomously, squirming under Rappa’s tight grip. The man behind you just chuckled darkly.

“Say, boss...if the little lady here is so unhappy with you, why don't you put her on loan to someone for the time being? Let ‘em show her how good you are to her, eh?”

Kai quirked a brow at Rappa, immediately picking up what he was throwing down. He had half a mind to punish Rappa as well for his blatant display of insubordination and to dare to think he’d willingly give up his precious pet to him like she was a mere stray.

Ah, but the man did have a point. His pet needed to be taught how kind her master is, and Rappa is the perfect opposition to do so. A degenerate at heart, his underling, was rowdy, filthy, and above all, a bigger sadist than Kai was.

He knew the man loved nothing more than to watch him spank the poor thing until she was a sobbing, blubbering mess of “I’m sorry, Kai!” gasping and panting for air like she was on the verge of death. What a drama queen he had on his hands. But he treated you like a queen nonetheless, but your attitude was simply out of control at this point.

“I think Rappa’s right, dear. Why don't you spend the week with him? Take a break from me if I’m so intolerable.”

Ice ran through your veins as Rappa unceremoniously scooped you up from your chair, opting to throw you over his shoulder. Kai’s chuckle and Rappa’s jeers mixed with your protests as you squirmed and squealed in his monstrous grasp.

“I thought you said anywhere else would be better than being with me. Remember, this is the choice you made, darling.”

“Rappa, you're dismissed.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, your fate was sealed. The bulkier man nodded and smacked a large hand over your ass.

“You and me? We're gonna have some fun, little piggy.” ——— •

Settled on Rappa’s bed, if you could call a sparsely covered mattress that hadn't been washed in god knows how long a bed, your nerves were set ablaze watching the man undress. And he certainly made a show of it, flexing his muscles and winking at you all the while.

“Like what ya see, sweets?” He groaned, striking a pose in front of you in nothing but a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. Oogling couldn't be helped; the man was built like Adonis. Strong, fierce, and big. Much, much bigger than you were.

“I hope so, cause I definitely do.” He smirked, licking his lips as he stalked over to you. “Don’t ya about a thing, little piggy. Papa’s gonna take real good care of ya”

Climbing over you, he pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used the other to feel you up.

“Yeesh, yer stiff as a board. Maybe a little game will help loosen you up, piggy.”

Fingers crawled their way up to your torso and to your mouth, leaving a searing heat in their wake. His fingers snatched your tongue from your mouth, shoving themselves down your throat to choke you.

“This little piggy wants to choke on my cock.”

His insenstant cooing and grinning had your stomach turning in knots, helping the fingers in your throat gag you even further. The thumb pressed down on your tongue before spitting a glob down your throat.

“This little piggy wants to be squeezed real tight.”

The sing-song tone in his voice only served to heighten your fear. Of course, the bastard thought this was all a game to him and you his toy.

His grin only got wider as his hand crept down your throat and ghosted itself there, barely touching before lunging. A panicked yip flew from your mouth as he pinned you by your throat.

There was hardly any pressure, just a cage of fingers keeping you locked into his impossibly firm grip. The hand was more than large enough to circle your neck. You smell the grim on his fingers, the labor of his love for the Shie Hassaikai.

“Almost got ya, piggy!” He teased, licking a long strip up your cheek. God, his breath stunk.

“Keep up now; the fun’s just starting.”

His fingers seemed to leave a trail of grime as they traveled down to your exposed breasts. They groped and gripped at your tender flesh without finesse or technique. So rough and worn from all the fighting he does. Your right tit was cupped in his hand before he gave it a hard squeeze.

“This little piggy wants to be milked.”

Onto your left, giving your nipple a good tug and pinch.

“This little piggy wants to be sucked.”

Your squeals and cries only made him laugh harder, grunting when you squirmed against the leg in between your thighs.

“Aw, is baby girl gonna cry? Cause I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Every touch of the pads from his fingers made you even sicker than before. You could feel every place he touched, the disgusting filth they left in their wake. The continued down your stomach, stopping to tickle you softly on your sides.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Your laughter couldn't be contained as he got rougher and rougher, chuckling along with you as he pressed his face close to yours.

“Stop it! I-I’m going to pee!”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.” He grunted, pressing his elbow hard into your bladder all while tickling you. Shame and piss flushed out of you as he groaned, grinding his knee up against your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Look at that! Piggy’s finally rolling around in filth where pigs belong.”

“I can't wait to make a mess of you.”

Humiliation flushed your face and your body, feeling even more disgusted as you felt your own piss on your lower body.

Rappa stood up and took a good look at you, admiring his handy work. A flushed, tearful expression that could be fucked up even more, his favorite face to see. Especially on someone as beautiful as you.

Sitting you up, he sat behind you and took your hair into two separate ponytails before trying them off.

“There, perfect for gripping.”

A rough push landed you on the floor, naked and afraid. One hand grabbed both your ponytails at the same time and steered you to be seated facing his crotch.

“Open wide, piggy.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough for one evening.

“Are you deaf? Open up, you bratty little bitch. Don't make me ask again unless ya fancy fighting me instead.”

Now that was a truly horrifying thought. The man could quickly kill you with a single punch and let Overhaul bring you back to life, only to do it again and again. Those men, especially Kai, had no qualms about taking your life when you decided to misbehave.

Considering your choices, you cut your losses and nodded, opening your mouth slowly and braced yourself for a brutal facefucking.

The man sunk himself into your throat, sitting there when he bottomed out. His hips twitched as you choked and gagged around his massive dick.

“Yeah.” He groaned, pulling out only to slam back in. “That's what I’m talkin’ about. Finally got ya to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Hips thrusting, he set a brutal pace into your mouth. Heavy balls slapped against your chin as your spit and tears made a mess of your face. He paid no mind to your shaking and struggling, only moaning when you choked particularly hard.

“Guess I gotta let ya up to breathe, huh piggy?”

Pulling himself out, he gave you a few seconds to cough and gulp in the air before nudging his way back into your warm, wet mouth.

“Can’t spoil you too much now.” He chuckled.

One hand gripping each ponytail, he tugged them tight and fucked your mouth with vigor. His hips slammed against your cheeks, sure to leave bruises as they started to sputter.

“Y-You’re just so cute, piggy. I can’t last long when you look at me like that.” He grunted, pulling your hair even tighter.

His cock hurt your throat horribly. You could feel the burn of every stroke and spasm into your mouth, tears streaming down your face even more from the pain. Your hair felt like it was going to be ripped out from the sheer amount of strength he was pulling it with.

His thrusts increased in pace as he chased his orgasm, opting to hold the back of your head flush against his crotch when he finally did cum. Making sure to swallow every last drop, Rappa didn't let you up until he was completely finished.

“Such a good girl for Papa.” Rappa jeered, picking you up off the floor by the throat and pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth.

Tossed onto the bed, he spread your legs wide and pressed a thumb to your dripping hole.

“And this little piggy wants to get fucked all night long.”

#yandere rappa #yandere rappa x reader #rappa #rappa x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere mha #mha #yandere bnha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better.

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps.

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door.

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered.

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat.

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping.

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze.

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip.

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly.

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

War of Royalty

CW: Medeival whump, slavery, sold/traded, branded whumpee, caged, intimate/royal caretaker, whumpee willingly facing whumper

masterlist

The blacksmith hammered away on his anvil, wiping sweat from his brow as he exhaled. A carriage halted outside the door, a man climbed out while scribbling away on a parchment. “Merek Raynoldus?” He asked.

“Yeah, that's me.” He replies, crossing his arms as he glances into the cage the horses drew. It contained a man huddled in the center on his knees with his arms tucked and head bowed low.

“He’s uhhh... Got a hurt leg on the journey here. If you want a replacemen-” “-I’ll take em.” Merek interrupted. The man looked up from the parchment, glancing the blacksmith up and down. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter, I’ll take it.” Merek scoffs. The man’s brow raises a moment before he shrugs. “Alright, the slave is all yours. That’ll be-

In an instant, the roads trembled from a trampling herd of horses. The whole town fell into silence as the four midnight horses formed a line before the two men, the riders dressed in dark menacing armor from head to toe.

“Merek Raynoldus?” One cold voice hissed behind a helmet.

“... Aye“ Merek nodded, sweat beaming on his brow as he glanced between the four.

“You’ve been summoned to the courts by the treason of the king. You’re coming with us.” The second ordered.

Merek’s heart froze as solid as ice. He knew why the four horsemen were here, and he knew what he was accused of.

His previous slave had turned him in... That ungrateful wretch.

The slave trader nervously rolls up the parchment “Shall I-.. uh, come back later then?”

Eden found himself outside the king's chambers once again. This never became easier as he took a jagged deep breath to calm his trembling. He opened the doors to find the king standing at the window, the curtains wide open as the light gleamed around his silhouette.

The boy dropped to his knees as he bowed his head. “You summoned me, my lord?” He gulped, hating how weak his voice came out.

“Eden!” The king beamed, a smile spreading across his face. Before the slave could choke out a word, his hand was taken and pulled to his feet. An arm clutching his shoulder, pinning him to the king's side as they stood at the window.

“It’s a beautiful day in Everthil.” He smiled, his grasp tightening. “Y-yes! Of course it-t is, your majesty.” Eden gasped.

They stood in silence until Eden finally peaked his eyes open, seeing the sun shine on the busy streets and children playing in the grass. He felt the king sigh against his shoulder.

“Eden. I want you to know we found your previous owner.”

The boy's lungs froze as his body tensed. The king noticed as he slowly ran his hand along his cheek to soothe him. “He’s been thrown into the dungeons until I choose his sentence. I would kill the man now, but this week... is not for death.” He spoke, his voice growing soft.

“Now, I want to offer you something.” He turned the boy towards him as he tilted his chin up with a finger. “I know that man hurt you more than just your body, but your soul as well.” His hand rested over Eden’s heart, the place where the brand had long been burned. “You have my permission to enter the dungeons. I'm sure you have some unspoken words with that traitor.”

“B-but my lord! That man was my master! He owned me for years, how could I face him?!” Eden cried.

“Was, dear. He was your master. Tell me, who cares for you now?” He asked. Eden hesitated for a moment, his cheek resting within the king's palm. “You do, my lord.” He muttered. The king smiled as he thumbed his cheekbone.

He guided Eden into the chair by the window, leaving him with his thoughts to make his decision.

Yet here he was, trembling at the gate to the dungeons. The door pushed itself open as Eden jumped back, seeing a figure exit dressed in dark armor. They paused as they stared at each other for a moment, even though their eyes were covered, he knew their gaze was fixated on him. The figure's head tilting to the side before they took their helmet off to show their scar-ridden face.

“Eden?” The man asked. “...Y-yes sir?” He stuttered, puzzled how the man knew his name. “Ah! I was wondering when I would meet you! His majesty talks about you all the time. Really, I’m starting to get jealous!” He laughed, his armor rattling with the movement.

Eden’s face fell red as he couldn't find any words.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. The name’s Godfrey, one of four horsemen, the King's royal officer.” He smiles while offering his hand. Eden returned a smile as he tried to shake the man’s hand, but the size of his glove was too large as all he could grasp was two fingers. “So I see you decided to come here after all. Word of advice; don’t let him get in your head, and give em hell, ahaha!” He laughed, roughly patting his shoulder as he passed.

Eden shuddered as he approached the door, grasping the cold iron handle.

“Eden.” He heard behind him, turning around to find the horsemen hesitating at the staircase. “I just want you to know, you’ve made the king happy. For that, you have my thanks.” He smiled.

“... Wait.. But how?” Eden called, finding the man had already retreated up the stairs. He sighed, but he felt his cheeks still burning red with blush. He pushed the door open as he found a room with a single cell, a man broken and bruised slumped in the corner.

His head slowly raised, his eyes shooting wide when he found his old slave standing before him. “Ray!” He called, falling to the ground as he practically crawled across the floor. Eden nervously took a couple of steps back.

“Ray! Oh thank goodness... It’s me! Please, you have to get me out of here!” Merek begged, clutching the bars.

Eden’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at his former slave owner. A man he once feared for his life, now slumped at his feet begging for mercy.

“My name is Eden ... Merek.” He glared.

The man’s face dropped at his words, the color draining from his face.

The boy was his only chance to make it out alive. So it seems he would have to break the slave once more to do what it's told.

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!~ @tears-and-lilies @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @starnight-whump @bumpthumpwhump @whumpcreations @myst-in-the-mirror @heathenville @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @thegreathowdini @kim-poce @digitalart-dwa @princessofonward @andwhump @sunflower1000

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

For the dead| Gregor

Note: YAY I FRICKEN LOVE THE DAY OF THE DEAD- AHHH

also....part 2?

Warnings: none,

Reader: male

"I got new hands for you!"

"yeah! Yeah send em back!" Y/n shouted not bothering to turn his head from his task of washing dishes.

Gregor was nudged forward by Cid, he making his way back, still dressed cladly in his trooper armor.

"Uh. Y/n?" He questioned.

Y/n turned his head, "That's me."

There was an awkward silence, "so..."

"Oh right!" Y/n spoke, "just grab a sponge and a bucket and start scrubbing something."

"That's it?" Gregor asked, his voice staying higher as he talked.

Y/n nodded, "this kitchen's filthy, I offered to help Cid start selling meals here, so it needs to be cleaned before I even start."

Gregor nodded, great. He went from slave of the republic to slave of Cid. Y/n returned to scrubbing dishes as Gregor grabbed a bucket and walked away, Y/n, had already scrubbed seemingly everything in his vicinity.

"Anything in the back?" Gregor questioned voice cracking slightly.

"Yep. Haven't touched it yet." Y/n smiled, "just through the doorway."

Gregor walked through the kitchen, turning into the doorway he almost wanted to barf, he found a whole new respect for Y/n and barely knew the guy, the place stunk of rotten food and garbage.

Had it always been this bad?

Pulling up his sleeves and taking off his gloves, not willing to get his own pair of black gloves dirty he started on the cracked walls, he spent the next hour cleaning one wall.

Getting down to the trim in the corner there was a crack in the wall, small his fingernail it held one flower, bright and eye-catching in color, an orange color, and odd color not seen much around the galaxy.

"Wonder how long you've survived here." He commented, to no one in particular cleaning around the flower carefully. Starting the next wall his sponge split in half, splatting him in the chest plate.

"Damn it." He cursed, tossing the broken sponge in the murky water, "probably should change this all out anyways."

Walking back to Y/n was to ask for a replacement sponge he was greeted with a dark room, a soft glow of orange and yellow at the end of the hall.

"Y/n?" Gregor called, bucket in hand he walked towards the light he ended up at an alter, shelves built like a small pyramid that hung a bit higher than waist height on the wall.

Seeing some of the pictures he picked up one, "This...is this Fives?" He questioned remembering the trooper from way back when.

The shelves were decorated with pictures and flowers, small fruits and drinks, everything brought together with lit candles. That's when he realized, the flowers adorning the altar were the same ones that grew out the walls trim.

Others he didn't realize, some other troopers, sure. A drawn photo of 99 the old defective clone who had been put on cleaning duty on Kamino.

"Hey-"

The sudden noise started him, causing him to jolt forward as he turned to face the voice. Bumping into the shelves as it came tumbling down. Gregor trying to catch it but to no avail, the crashing of glass echoing as it hit the floor in the once spotless kitchen. The two winced at the sound.

"Sorry..." he apologized, bucket still one hand looking back prepared to be yelled at.

"Hey. It's okay." Y/n spoke, "I have more frames and candle glasses."

Y/n quickly sorting through the mess for the photos in the hope they weren't ruined by the spill of food or drink.

"The candles-"

"Battery operated." Y/n spoke, "Im not that stupid."

Gregor set the bucket down, quickly helping, "I'm sorry- I really am-" his voice cracking with nervousness as Y/n started putting things on the counter in a hurry.

"It's okay, really." Y/n told him, "I should have moved it anyways"

Gregor rubbed the back of his neck putting wrecked flowers on the counter. Y/n grabbing a broom and cleaning all the food and glass up, Gregor holding the dustpan as they then cleaned up the spills. It was when they threw anything deemed ineligible for reuse did Gregor take a look back at the structure, it obviously had importance, and he felt bad he had ruined it.

"I shouldn't be asking questions. Not after what I did-" Gregor started, "but what's it for?"

"Hm?" Y/n questioned looking to the side, "oh. A cultural thing,"

Y/n had answered so casually, "Oh, " Gregor replied.

Y/n nodded, "To honor ones that passed on, I, unfortunately, didn't know my parents or family but made a family with those clones I saw drop you off, and some others, passed on friends of my own and the boys put some up there, I helped Omega draw 99 I believe was his name since she didn't have a photo."

"So, anyone can do it?" Gregor questioned.

"Mhm, I don't see why not, as long as you are respectful about it I don't see a problem." Y/n answered, "Thinking about doing it?"

"Me? Oh! Oh no!" He spoke, "Im sure I upset the ones passed on after, well that."

Y/n chuckled, "Im sure they're laughing at it wherever they are, I was laughing at it a bit, how jumpy you were."

"That bad?" Gregor chuckled.

"As high as a loth cat," He spoke now picking through the flowers, some disheveled by impact, Gregor helping in picking out the ruined ones.

"You have a place to sleep?" Y/n questioned.

"Huh?" Gregor questioned, "Uh no, no I don't."

"Wanna stay at my place? I have Menudo in my crockpot at home." Y/n told.

"Men- what?" Gregor asked, he had never heard of such a dish, yet he was more shocked that he had just ruined Y/n's important display and now was being asked if he wanted to sleep and eat at Y/n's home.

"Food, soup to be exact" Y/n spoke with a smile.

"I uh," Gregor tried to start, having trouble with the kindness, he was just recently shot at by some of his closest brothers, "Y-yeah I'd like that."

Y/n smiled, "Trust me, I think you'll like it, Ordo Mantell can get chilly from time to time."

Gregor nodded as Y/n tied up the flowers, bagging the broken ones.

"You're taking them?" Gregor asked, Y/n nodding.

"Yeah I never let my flowers go to waste, usually I make potpourri when the petals have been sundried." Y/n told, "It goes right back to them though, I always have a few vases full behind or between pictures for good luck, if I have too much- usually all the time- the neighboring old woman loves to have them and talk about them with her lady friends."

"You're full of surprises." Gregor commented.

Y/n smiled smally, "Well, I suppose I have a few more up my sleeve, now, shall we? We have about a twenty minute walk."

Gregor nodded Y/n had checked once more that everything was set out to dry, especially the pictures and then they were on there way. Gregor following Y/n like a puppy with his mother. The walk to his apartment was quiet, Y/n stopping a few times at small stands, Gregor didn't pay much attention to it, Y/n picking up some fruit- but what he did was pay attention too was the sigh in Y/n's voice when Vendors said they were out of what both the vendor and Y/n called Marigolds.

"Okay, tomorrow?" Y/n questioned.

"Early, but they're rare, especially out here, I know you want them for culture purposes Y/n but I have people paying double credit for them, my families in a tight spot, so If you can get here before those richins can, you can have them." The girl spoke, "I'm sorry chick."

Y/n sighed, "Okay thank you."

The woman nodded as Y/n had been turned away for the fourth time.

"Come on it's just up ahead." Y/n spoke gesturing across the street.

"Okay."

They walked across the street and into the store, "Afternoon,"

"Afternoon," The old woman smiled, "Ah! You brought a man home! A handsome one at that! Good for you!"

Y/n chuckled, Gregor rubbing the back of his neck flushetered.

"Gregor meet Mrs.Baker, Mrs.Baker Gregor." Y/n introduced.

"An honor mam." Gregor spoke.

"Not only is he a looker! He's a gentlemen!" She prasied, "Look at you!"

Y/n smiled, cheeks flustering shortly, it not going unnoticed by Gregor.

"And a man in uniform!"

"Goodnight Mrs.Baker!" Y/n spoke quickly, pulling Gregor through the small store to the back, "I'll have potpourri for you soon!"

"Your a dear you know that!" She called back as Y/n led Gregor to the steps, Y/n allowing gregor to go up first as they made it to the top of the stairs the door opened relieving a hallway.

"All the way up." Y/n spoke, "The attic."

"You lead the way," Gregor practically begged, Y/n nodded squeezing past him.

He smells good, was gregor's only thoughts as Y/n made it past him leading the way, up two more sets of stairs and up to a hatch, where he opened it.

"Watch yourself." Y/n told Gregor.

Gregor climbed the steep stairs following behind Y/n. It was surpignsly spacious, Y/n's little kitchenette behind where he climbed up from, a nice handmade run covered the floor in front of Gregor. Y/n walked over to his desk, that a bit more fancy as it was built into the angled ceiling a window as light source directly above, he set the bags down as a took cat come out from the seat of the chair.

"hey there." Y/n smiled rubbing it's head, "Meet Alley, Alley meet Gregor."

The tooka cat stay still, enjoying Y/n's pats on the head.

"Like an alley way?" Gregor questioned Y/n nodded.

"It's where I found him after all," Y/n commented, "Oh let me get you food you must be hungry."

Gregor finally made it up all the way after semi gazing at the place, closing the hatch below him. Y/n walking over to the kitchenette as he opened the crockpot lid. Gregor now level with the ground looked around, Y/n's "bed" was more of a large, humongous bean bag, easy to push and move as he needed and was convinet. He had a small table besides it with some candles, wax melted and dripping onto the table. Scanning around he seeing the center window, circular and big in shape, with shelves on the walls surrounding it.

"Is this...what I seen earlier?"

Gregor was infauted to say less, the bright colors of the marigolds contrasted to the cool colors of the dark night of Ordo mantel with the city lights crashing against it. Real candles that once stood tall were now wilted away and dripping wax but still lit. Images again at the center of everything accompanied by food and drink. It was beautiful, but sad, how something which could be so painful could be so beautiful.

"It's...amazing." Gregor commented, Y/n watching him from across the room look with infatuation and awe, Gregor turned back towards Y/n who smiled smally.

"I tried my hardest." Y/n smiled, "I do every year."

"What is this?" Gregor questioned, "All this? For someone who will never see it?"

Y/n's smile went to a flat line, but then he thought- looked at Gregor's armor, that was right. He was a clone, the cloest thing to a properal r memorial or burial was there helmet on a pike.

"That's what's the marigolds are for," Y/n told walking forward next to him, "They guide the souls back to us. I unfortantly can't make much of a path, so I gather as many as I can in one place, it's one way my planet use to honor the dead."

"Use to?" Gregor questioned.

"My home plant went dormaint." Y/n told him, "I try and keep as much as I can alive still."

Gregor frowned, looking away, "I- I'm sorry, you allow me into your house and-"

"No, No it's okay." Y/n spoke, "I understand wanting to know."

Y/n lightly grabbed Gregor's chin, with a light push of his finger's Gregor was looking back at Y/n, eye's catching all too long. Y/n pulled his hand away slowly, clearing his throat only the slightest.

"I'll ask you a question then," Y/n spoke, Gregor nodding.

"You're voice, it cracks and it's higher than than other clones." Y/n commented, "Any reason why?"

Gregor shook his head no, "Suppsoe it was always my little quirk." he chuckled, Y/n smiling, they catching each other's gaze again, but for longer, eyes lingering only one anothers, unlike Gregor, Y/n's were dark dark brown, almost black, with a soft highlight of pastel brown, despite there dark color they were warm and welcoming.

"I," Y/n spoke, "Lets eat?"

#captain gregor #gregor tbb #the bad batch gregor #gregor x reader #male reader insert #sw x male reader #tbb x male reader #x male reader #male readers need more fanfic tbh #male reader #Gregor x male reader #gregor x male reader

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skampi835 · 3 years

Text

Let’s never speak of this again! (Motonari x reader)

Let’s celebrate Motonari’s upcoming route with an oneshot! 🥳 Since I hopefully avoided most of the spoilers I didn’t come up with any good idea, but then I found this:

you and your enemy hug each other, it's completely accidental, and neither of you know why it happened, and it's like,,, you glare at each other, with an expression of ''let's never speak of this again'´

Thanks for putting this idea in my mind @screnwriter!

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Starring: Motonari x reader (female)

Genre: Comedy

Warning: besides Motonari’s slanguage surprisingly none... ahaha who am I kidding? It's Motonari 😂

real Warnings: angst, bad language, violence (fighting scene!)

Word Count: 1.810

“Get her!”

Shoot! How do I always end in situations like this?!

With this thought you’re bolting straight into the next alleyway. You’ve left the busy trading streets of Azuchi a long time ago and unfortunately lost track of your current position due the rising panic inside of you. Honestly, you’ve no idea where the heck you are right now! Though obviously still in Azuchi you’re running hopefully into the right direction towards the fuller marketplace!

Desperate, you’re squeezing your way through a very small gap between two buildings and dash on. Maybe your pursuers can’t follow you through this and it'll buy you some extra time! The shouts from traders and the sounds of frisky chatters are getting louder with every step you’re taking, which means you have to be on the right track!

Determined you’re keeping up the fast pace, praying you’re able to shake off your pursuers completely in the crowds of the busy market, as you round the next corner. But all of a sudden you’re awfully crashing into a wall.

“Woah!”

“Uff--!”

The heavy impact is stealing your air, though obviously not only from you, but also from said wall, which in the hustle and bustle you’re literally falling into his arms eagerly not to fall. Together you’re even staggering sideways for a split second. Stressed and tense you’re spinning your head up with surprise, staring into the startled, wide ruby red eyes of the man. "Wah-…?"

“… You?!”

You didn't even realize how tight you were clutching Motonari when you crashed into him, until he’s violently yanking your arms away. "The hell yer doing? Got a bloody death wish?" He hisses and is glaring at you furiously.

As shocked as Motonari's reaction was, so are you aghast to face him right now. "What, of all people, are you doing here?!" You snap, still completely out of breath.

Quick steps are pulling you back to the current situation you are still in. You were supposed to keep running from your pursuers but simultaneously you’re facing an enemy of the Oda forces. Your situation is definetly growing somewhat hopeless. Nevertheless the sight of Motonari’s anger makes it a lot easier for your decision, to pass him and run away, than to stand rooted on the spot.

Unfortunately Motonari suddenly grabs your wrist roughly when you've just turned away and is pulling you back. "Ack-…! Let me go!" you plead.

"I won't do shit," Motonari growls venomously. "Now that yer recognized me, princess, I’ve gotta improvise something."

The hectic steps from the side street are getting louder with every passing moment, before they’re coming to a sudden stop right next to you. “There’s this witch!” One of the pursuers is shouting. He’s considerably tall with broad shoulders and a massive body. Shortly afterwards another two coarse figures appears behind him. They’re building themselves up with stern grimaces in the narrow alleyway.

Your eyes anxiously widen and your body starts to tremble ever so slightly. But there is no running away again for you, for Motonari’s adamant grip is chaining you.

"Huh, didn't even know yer know so many grim-looking acquaintances, princess." Motonari’s saying coolly, scanning the three men with his steely gaze. Still he doesn't loosen his grip on your wrist instead he’s tightening it.

"I haven't!" You snort, trying to yank your hand free to get away from him - without avail. You don’t know if it's better, getting caught by Motonari or these guys. But you know for shure both scenarios are pretty bad.

"Hey, you there! Plat-head!” One of the scoundrels growls and is glaring at Motonari grimly, whose dryly raising an eyebrow at this denomination. "Give us the little girl. We have business with her."

“That stupid hussy broke my nose!” Another of them shouts indignantly. You’re noticing his swollen red nose and you can't suppress a brief, yet inappropriate, flash of pride in your face.

It was just a few minutes ago, when they stalked you after you’ve exited your favorite shop. Unfortunately this shop is located in the outskirts of the village so there weren’t many people when they confronted you. The guys wanted to ‘talk to you nicely’ and after a few seconds you’ve ‘nicely declined'. Thank goodness you know some techniques of self-defense!

However, even more inappropriate is Motonari's spiteful laughter that he’s suddenly uttering. It’s giving you the creeps! "Seriously?" With a quick sideways glance in your direction with his ruby red orbs, he’s grinning at the fellow with extreme smug. "Tell me, how’d she did it, putz? Did she climb onto yer?"

Good gracious! Wouldn’t you please make him madder than he already is? Pretty please?!

"What did you just call me?" The broad shouldered man’s roaring furiously. Shortening the distance to Motonari, he’s threateningly waving with his massive fist.

Without wanting to, you’re quickly seeking cover behind Motonari, who has finally let go of your wrist. Now with his hands free he’s facing the attacker. With quick reflexes Motonari’s skillfully dodging the scoundrel's punch and draws his sword with a metal 'shink' that’s humming in the air. You’re holding your breath when Motonari’s holding the blade right against the throat of the ruffian, who is instantly not moving a muscle anymore. "Are you out of yer damn mind? You fucking want to take me on unarmed?!"

Motonari’s sounding incredibly unimpressed, for it was him against three rapscallions, but also incredibly pissed. No matter how this will end, you're sure you won't be of any use. So you’re looking around for an escape route. But you are cornered. The only side you could rush to is a dead end.

"The lil’ one’s mine, get it? So piss off, aye? ” Motonari’s growling with a frown and kicks the man roughly in his side. Gruntling the man hits the ground hard.

"You sunova-!" Furiously about the defeat of his crony, another ruffian - not quite as stupid as his predecessor - is trying his luck with a rusty dagger, when he’s running towards Motonari. But after a few seconds it lands on the ground, followed by the guy.

The last of the crew charges in, just to earn a brutal smack with the back of Motonari’s sword in the side of his neck. "Tch! How the hell did ya morons think yer can take me on when a lil’ girly beat you up? Ya wanna make me really mad?”

You’re recognizing the change in the air around Motonari. It’s tense, shifting from the beginning amusement to bloodlust. Motonari’s wielding his sword, but apparently used it just to disarm his opponent. But now it seems that he won’t restrain himself any longer.

"Crap, let's get out of here!" The guy with the lost dagger is yelling towards his pals. Frantically they’re getting up and quickly disappear into the alleys.

You sigh, relieved as the men finally disappear. But just one moment later your heart’s sinking completely into your boots when Motonari turns back to you, though this time with a sword in his hand. "Back to ya, princess."

“I haven't seen or heard anything!” You shout, throwing your arms up in air and backing from him. Now pressed against a real wall on the side of the house, your heart is pounding up to your throat, when you meet Motonari’s sharp gaze. Luckily the bloodlust you’ve seen before has gone, too.

Motonari’s raising an eyebrow, probably irritated by your strange reaction and is fixing you. Then the corner of his mouth curves up to an amusing smirk while he’s withdrawing his sword back to his belt. “Heh, ain’t that a start?” He snickers.

Abruptly he shortens the distance to you, placing one of his white gloved hands right next to your head against the wall behind you. Superior and smugly, Motonari’s looking straight into your eyes, straight into you. The tension’s getting tangible again and your heart’s pounding hard in your chest. "You owe me. I bet you saw nothing, understood?"

Something you least of all wanted, is to owe to some madman like Motunari! His stern expression is sending a shiver through your spine. "I- ... uhm ... thank you?"

"What should I do with yer thanks? Can’t buy anything with ‘em.” Motonari snarls dissatisfied and is slightly narrowing his eyes. "Either you damn shut yer mouth about everything ya saw - hell, just forget I’m even here! Or I'll cut out yer pretty tongue. Ain’t that a deal?"

Automatically you’re pressing your lips together sealing your mouth - and especially your tongue. You’re staring at him in horror with wide eyes. "Let's never talk about this again, aye?"

What joice do you have? Of course you could just agree with Motonari and then tell the warlords about his whereabouts. But you’ve always been a woman which sticks to her word, no matter how bitter this one is. Not entirely sure whether he'll still carry out his threat to cut off your tongue, you're just nodding, while glancing determined up to him.

"Splendid." Motonari’s pushing himself off the wall with a mask of satisfaction on his face, giving you the way free. "Then rush back to yer patrons, ‘lil princess.”

Uncertain you’re blinking towards him. Motonari makes no move to stop you, he’s just waving with his hand in your direction. He really leaves you with just that! Without further thinking, you’re taking to your heels and bolt away. Not that he'll change his mind after all!

After two more alleys, you’re finally reaching the busy and crowded market and try to calm your panicked pounding heart. That was definitely too much excitement for one day! Still, you're grateful for Motonari getting those ruffians off your back. But why does it haf to be Motonari of all people?!

A deal is a deal, you’re thinking to yourself taking one last, deep, nessecary breath. Certainly it won’t mean anything good that Motonari’s currently in Azuchi. You just hope, you won’t regret this deal someday.

With quick steps you’re heading purposefully back to the castle. Even if this idiot surely won’t appreciate it, your silence about that accident was certain to him.

And you are going to take to grave, that you’ve embraced Motonari by that accident, when running into him. Yes, better never even think about this again!

_____

Motonari’s running his white gloved fingers through his hair and grunts in annoyance, after you left. That you’ve recognized him is a great nuisance to him. It’s time to rethink his plans. That would slow things down a lot.

As if he’d actually trust a little princess like you to keep her mouth shut. What stupidity!

Casually he drives his hands on his sides to get rid of the strange feeling from your delicate arms embracing him.

Let's never talk about this again. - Yeah, better let's not.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #fanfiction #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen fanfiction #ikesen fic #ikesen motonari #Motonari Mouri #ikesen motonari fanfic #ikesen motonari fanfiction

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pinknatural · 4 years

Text

Dean tries, really tries, to think of it as a present. Finally, his dad is letting loose on the ropes a bit, finally letting him hunt on his own. But it’s kinda hard to convince himself when his dad sent him in with the case already figured out, with everything but the manual labor already done.

It’s more like an errand he wants me to complete, Dean thinks resentfully, digging his shovel into the soft dirt. Happy birthday, go dig up two graves. Have fun!

Dean huffs and pivots to the grave beside the other one. According to Dean’s research, the nuns had wanted to be buried together, but when the convent found their bodies they hadn’t really gone for that option. They had been buried next to each other, though, which makes Dean’s job just a little bit easier.

He starts digging, even though he hasn’t finished digging out the first grave. You gotta dig ‘em up at the same time, ‘cause if you gank one then her lover gets angry, and the last thing Dean needs is an angry ghost harassing him while he digs up a grave. He can’t help but think that those other nuns should’ve buried them together. Not just because it would make Dean’s life easier, but because they wanted it. Because they were in love, and they killed themselves, and the convent owed them that much.

Dean inhales, then exhales, his breath escaping in a little white cloud. It’s chilly, ‘cause it’s January, but it’s not too cold. He’s not wearing gloves or anything but he can still feel his hands. He shifts to the other grave and starts digging.

He remembers what Charlie at the last school said about what his dad got him for his seventeenth birthday--a new car. Lindsey got a fancy necklace. Jake’s birthday hadn’t come up yet, but he’d been hoping for a dog. All Dean has is blisters on his fingers and a sore back from when the ghost of Sister Felicity threw him into a bookcase while he was retrieving the prayer book the nuns’d passed notes to each other in. That book, which had notes in the margins of their love, is gone now. Dean burned it.

Tears sting at Dean’s eyes. He must’ve been too soft, about Jake. He must’ve--something must’ve given him away. Why else would he be punished like this?

He knows, Dean thinks. He knows, he knows, he knows. It becomes a mantra, moving in time with his shovel. He switches graves.

It’s just that it’s his birthday. The message--the warning--would’ve gotten across regardless, Dean thinks. But why, of all days, why his birthday? Why can’t Dean have a fucking break for once?

Seventeen sucks, Dean thinks, hitting the first coffin. He climbs out of the hole and switches to the other one. It supremely sucks. Sixteen you get a drivers’ license, eighteen you can, like, vote or whatever, but seventeen is nothing. Just a bunch of shit.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

Dean hits the second coffin and breaks it open. The bones are like the ones in Sister Perpetua’s grave--pale and gross, just like most bones are. Dean doesn’t know why he kind of expected different. He climbs out and throws his shovel aside, picks up the thing of salt. He dumps it on one grave, then the other. Lighter fluid, next. Dean’s done this before. Even if Dad and Sammy are usually here, Dean knows how this goes.

He takes the matchbook from his pocket, strikes one and drops it, then the other. The graves light up, the flame flickering bright and warm, and Dean thinks he hears screaming. He drops to his knees and whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He realizes that he’s still crying, that tears have run down his face, and for the first time on this supremely shitty birthday, he’s glad to be alone, kneeling between the graves of two women who were in love, twin fires burning bright on either side of him.

Dean wakes up slowly, as he often does these days. There’s a warm blanket around his shoulders, and under that a heavy arm slung over his waist. Sometimes Dean remembers the days he was too antsy to even get under the covers, ready to jump into action at any minute, and it all seems so absurd.

Light trickles in softly from the window across the room, and the arm around Dean’s waist tightens. Dean turns, slow, smiling already at the sight he knows will greet him.

Cas is kind of awake, squinting at him but smiling, his hair ruffled and sticking out everywhere, and Dean feels sort of like he might burst.

“Mmm,” he says. “Good morning.” He stretches his own arm around Cas’s shoulders and draws the man closer to him, Cas’s arm shifting from it’s loose hold to pull their chests together.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, his voice even lower, rough from sleep. Dean grins, tucks his face under Cas’s chin to hide it.

“Every day’s my birthday when I get to wake up to the best present ever laying in my bed,” Dean says, even though that’s ridiculously sappy and also doesn’t make sense.

“I am not a present, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean makes a ‘hmm’ noise.

“I was talking about Miracle, dumbass,” he says, nudging the sleeping dog in question with his toes.

“Of course you were,” Cas says indulgently, like he’s just humoring him. Which is fair, possibly. Dean thinks that Cas spends a lot of time just humoring him.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dean asks, shifting his arm to touch the back of Cas’s neck, right at the spot where his t-shirt meets his skin.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cas says, holding him tighter like he thinks Dean will get out of bed, which is quite frankly an absurd idea. It’s a Sunday, and it’s his birthday. Dean has nowhere else to be.

“It might, since Sammy’s coming over today,” Dean says, even though Sam and Eileen are coming over in the late afternoon and it’s definitely still morning.

“Well, it’s not time for them to come yet,” Cas says. “We can get up later.”

Dean definitely agrees, and he snuggles back down into Cas, getting even more comfortable. He’s just thinking about falling back asleep, maybe, deciding that this is his best birthday ever, even though it’s only been like ten minutes, when he remembers his worst birthday and has to pause.

“Dean?” Cas asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Dean noses against him, taking a deep breath. “You read my...my dad’s journal?”

“Yes,” Cas says warily. The journal is usually safe, but Cas can get pissy when John Winchester is mentioned.

“You remember my seventeenth birthday?” Dean asks, and then all of a sudden his angel is trying to squeeze the life out of him. Dean appreciates it, even though he can’t really breathe.

“I remember,” Cas growls, and Dean pats his shoulder.

“I was just thinking about how that was the worst, and this is the best,” Dean says, and Cas relaxes his hold a little. “I, uh...that day felt like a huge warning. And now I’m here, with you, and, uh, it’s pretty awesome, not gonna lie.”

“John Winchester deserves to rot in hell for eternity for what he did to you and Sam,” Cas says. “But I am glad to be here with you, and I agree that it’s pretty awesome.”

“I love you,” Dean says, helpess as he always is in the face of Cas’s protectiveness.

“I love you too,” Cas says, moving a hand to tenderly cradle Dean’s jaw. He begins to guide Dean’s head towards his, and Dean is so sorry to interrupt, but--

“Do you smell pancakes?” he asks, and Cas pauses, considering.

“Yes,” he says finally.

“Well, if I’m here in bed, and you’re here in bed, and Miracle, I’m pretty sure, can’t make pancakes, and is also in bed, then who…”

“Jack,” they say together, and Dean laughs.

“Do we trust Jack with the stove?”

“He is God,” Cas says, but that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes’. They look at each other and then sigh, rolling apart so they can get out of bed.

“We’ll continue this later,” Dean says, pointing at Cas, who nods.

“Of course,” he says, and he reaches out and grabs Dean’s shirt, pulling him in for a sadly-brief kiss. “Happy birthday.”

Dean beams at him, and then they go downstairs to help their son make pancakes without burning the house down, Miracle bounding down the stairs beside them, and Dean can’t help but agree with his earlier assessment--that this is his best birthday ever.

(ao3)

#this is so fluffy byeeee #long post #deancas #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #uhh this is 1.4k words if anyone is like curious

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

“Can you write the brothers with an MC who has a big scary looking dog but is actually really friendly, and a small adorable cuddly cat but actually hates new people?”

So Tumblr screwed me over a small bit by deleting a draft of an ask someone gave me, even though it still says I have a draft, when I go back to my drafts they’re gone, so I had to rewrite it. I have learned my lesson for not keeping it saved on something else. So I hope the quality didn’t suffer for it.

Thank you to the person who sent me this request, I’m sorry I can’t remember your blog name! You were really very friendly so thank you, stay hydrated and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

When MC came to the devildom with two animals in tow, he wasn’t ready for the new year of having to look after three new additions to the household. Especially after many many Henry incidents, and that one Satan fiasco with the cats. It took them months to clean up all that cat hair. However, much to Lucifer’s surprise, MC took care of them really well. He gained a new respect for MC’s ability to follow through with responsibilities.

He did find it amusing that MC had a huge dog following them around. Of course they weren’t as big as Cerberus or nearly as terrifying, but MC’s pet was fairly intimidating for a normal creature.

He’s a dog person for sure. He’ll bond with MC’s dog faster than anyone would expect. Some of it having to do with the fact that Lucifer was the only brother willing to approach them at first.

He wasn’t surprised that the pet was lovable. He could tell that there was no malice in their eyes even when they barked at him. If he felt the pet needed some behavioral lessons, he’d gladly help MC with it. He trained Cerberus with his own two hands after all.

He’d give the dog many secret treats and pets while no one was looking.

The cat though, he’d stay away from that one. One attempt to pet it as a show good spirits and one pair of his favorite gloves were ruined.

Mammon

MC had pets? He was excited for em, especially since Lucifer had never let him have a pet, and since they were MC’s he could have all the benefits of a pet without having to take care of them!

He tried bonding with the cat first since the small thing looked nothing like their dog. They were so tiny it was hard to believe it wasn’t a kitten. They had the biggest eyes, eyes that just begged for love! But when Mammon tried to pick the cat up, they hissed, leaving a large scratch mark on his face as they dashed under MC’s bed. He found it best to leave the cat alone from now on.

MC’s dog scared him for a while, though he’d never admit it, he’d just avoid the pet whenever he saw them. One day in particular, when the dog spotted him, it ran after him at full speed, causing Mammon to shriek and sprint away with colorful language. He’s the fastest demon so he got away just fine, but he could still hear them clawing at the door.

On the search to find their dog, just to find them sulking at Mammon’s door, MC went inside to find him curled up in the backseat of one of his cars. They dragged him out and sat him on his bed and slowly introduced the two to each other. MC’s dog had just been chasing him because they wanted to play. Mammon knew that, for sure, totally.

He’ll make sure to give both pets plenty of toys to make sure he doesn’t become their next one.

Levi

Pets that had fur instead of scales? And they weren’t named Henry? MC was a typical Normie.

He’d appreciate both of them from a distance, the last thing he wants is hair on his figures and in his equipment. He shudders to remember when he cleaned out his keyboard after the Cat Incident.

He does love that MC has pets though, don’t get him wrong. He’ll reminisce about all the fond memories he had about all his Henrys. He and MC will share fun pet stories and gush over photos.

He’ll eventually allow MC to try to acquaint him with their pets, but he’s not sure how well it will go since he has too many bad memories of Cerberus chasing him, snarling at him, ruining an entire manga collection. And cats love fish, what if they get their claws on his precious Henry?!

It surprisingly went okay, he enjoys now trying to get MC’s dog to do cool tricks that he’s seen in anime. As for the cat, Levi often finds them in his room, tail flicking as they closely watch and gently swat at the fish that swim by. He also tends to find them curled up on his warm consoles. There’s something comforting about having a little companion while he plays his games, something his fish can’t always give him.

Satan

Cat?? MC has a cat?? Lucifer banned him from bringing cats into the house, so the fact that MC had one meant that he could pay attention to them all he wanted, and Lucifer couldn’t prevent him from doing so.

His brothers were idiots to try and immediately lay hands on the cat. He had read about feline behavior and knew that you let the cat decide to initiate contact if they’re particularly scared of people.

So he’d get the kitty used to him first, by going into MC’s room and making sure it was obvious he was friendly with the owner. And then he’d just sit there in silence and read for hours, making sure they were now used to his presence.

It took a few days of patience but then he finally watched in glee as the small cat padded over to him warily, smelling him and making sure he wasn’t dangerous. Satan slowly held his hand out, making sure that the cute thing nuzzled against his fingers first before he would gently scratch under their chin.

His other brothers now looked at him in awe as Satan now often had the cat in his lap while he read, while most of them couldn’t even get close.

He didn’t quite bond with the dog, but he did occasionally give the pup a pat on the head.

Asmo

He’s not really a pet person, like, at all. Hair all over his clothes? Constantly smelling like an animal, and not in the way he’s usually used to? No thank you! He could’ve understood if it was a cute dog you could keep in a purse or an elegant cat that made the owner look like royalty, but they were neither.

But, much to even his own surprise, he came around to them. Enthusiastically so, even, much to the shock of the House of Lamentation. It started with just pictures of them. Cats and dogs do great on Devilgram and this could be a good opportunity to show people he has a secret side.

His profile skyrocketed, which was impressive since he’s already immensely popular. His beautiful face night near these cute creatures gets him even more likes than before.

Before MC knows it, somehow he has their dog trained to sit and pose for the camera. He’ll even buy special collars and cute little accessories for the pets, making sure they look super cute for all of their photo-shoots, not as much as he is but close enough.

If the cat ever scratches him he’ll ensure MC makes up for it by giving his wound a kiss.

Beel

Beel is a puppy himself, let’s be honest. MC finds it incredibly cute how alike they are. They’re both big, strong, and intimidating, but when you get to know both of them, they’re loyal, lovable, and precious.

He gets along great with both of the animals. The cat would scratch him to heaven and back, but he didn’t budge, and sooner than later the kitty warmed up to him. They would oftentimes treat him like a climbing post, clawing their way up his body just to stand on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind.

As for the dog, it started off by stalking Beel, playfully of course. It didn’t stop any of the brothers from having a mini heart attack, though, as they watched MC’s huge intimidating dog slowly making their way across the hall, haunches ready to strike. The dog could play-bite him, tug at his clothes, and jump on him all they wanted to, he was unbothered. He’d even share some of his food with them.

Beel and the dog would even play-wrestle, it was great for both of them as they would expel their energy and spend more time together. And of course MC would bring both of them plenty of treats for being good.

Belphie

He doesn’t like dogs, they’re too loud and rambunctious. Not to mention high maintenance. He prefers cats given the chance, but even sometimes they’re still too much work.

He did make an attempt to pet the cat, only for it to attack as soon as it got the chance. It left a big hole in his favorite pillowcase. He was offended. It was supposed to be friendly, cute, and cuddly, and yet it struck back and attacked him immediately. The irony was lost on him.

MC decided that they wanted the two to get along since they were sure they would be best buds given the chance.

When Belphie went to go take a nice nap, MC brought their tiny kitty over to his slumbering body, placing them on top of him over his blanket. The cat was tense at first, but he was so warm and comfortable, they stretched out and curled up on him. When Belphie opened his eyes and saw the wide, irresistibly cute eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t move. He just went back to bed.

Now it’s a rare sight when the two aren’t together, taking naps near the fireplace, outside under the stars. He’ll never tell anyone how he now loves to fall asleep to the sound of the cat’s purring.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

You can grow flowers from where dirt used to be

Summary :

"You want to climb out of the hell you're in, do the work. Do it."

Bucky bravely chooses to follow the path Sam has shown him, no matter what. What he doesn't know is that he may find more than appeasement at the end of the road...

Words 2706 - Rating G

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30911399

As Bucky walked away from the Wilson's garden, he heard the steady sound of the shield bouncing against the trees in the distance and his friend's voice began to echo in his head.

"You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are."

As Bucky walked away from the Wilson's clearing, he heard the steady sound of the shield bouncing against the trees in the distance and his friend's voice began to echo in his head.

"You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are."

Bucky's throat tightened the same way it had when Sam had said those words to him.

Since he had come back and almost become himself again, no one, not even Steve, had said something like that to him.

In fact, since he had fallen off the train over 70 years ago, this was the first time anyone talked to him like that. He was so used to taking orders, going where he was told, fighting when he was told, that he didn't know what else to do.

Sam hadn't told him who to be, but thanks to him Bucky was beginning to see who he could be.

"You want to climb out of the hell you're in, do the work. Do it."

Sam hadn't given him an accusative look, hadn't judged him when he pointed out that Bucky wasn't making amends. That he was avenging his victims by catching the bad guys he'd enabled by being the Winter Soldier. Sam had just suggested another way, that Bucky's closure was possible through the closure of those he had harmed by taking the life of one of their own.

" I'm sure there's at least one person in that book who needs closure about something, and you're the only person who can give it to 'em."

When Bucky told him there were dozens of them, for a moment he didn't dare turn his head for fear of reading the blame in Sam's eyes. But the man had simply said that it was cool, that he should start with one. In his eyes, there was no judgment, just trust, the trust that he had had from the beginning and that had remained, unshakeable despite Steve's departure. Bucky decided that he would never do anything to break that trust.

So as he walked along, he opened his notebook and looked through the list of names. He was going to make amends, whatever it took. He would save the two hardest ones for last. He would go through with it.

Later, as he was on the plane waiting to leave, looking out the porthole in what seemed to be the direction of Sam's house, he picked up his phone.

He wrote just two word.

Thank you.

He was ready. And once he got to the end, then maybe he could ... he shook his head, it was way too early. He had to do everything first to be worthy of the trust Sam had in him.

Lulled by the hum of the plane's engine, he let his mind drift off to sleep.

____

Sam continued to throw the shield for an hour before deciding to go for a run.

The first few minutes were always the same, he always expected to hear "On your left." and get passed by Steve. He knew that would never happen again. Of course it made him a little nostalgic, but just like a memory of the good old days. Something good that one liked to reminisce about. He then thought of Bucky who had barely found his friend to see him off again, who had many more memories with Steve than he did.

Bucky. It had taken all the courage in the world to let him go. To keep the handshake casual. Sam knew he had to give the man time to fully liberate himself.

They were learning to relate to each other without the bond that had brought them together, without the shadow of Steve.

Sam was beginning to see the Bucky that Steve had told him about. Sure, Bucky would never go back to the way he was, who could after going through what he had, but he would get back to the part of himself that had been suppressed for so long.

"It's just, that shield's the closest thing I've got to left a family, so when you retired it, it made me feel like I had nothing left."

Sam realized at those words the impact his decision to retired the shield had had on Bucky. Now that he had more time to think about it, he realized the deeper implication of Bucky's words.

It was Steve who had made the connection between Sam and Bucky. Bucky must have thought that if the shield, what was left of Steve to bind them, was gone, then Sam would have no connection to him.

Everything in Bucky's words screamed that.

"It made me question everything. You, Steve, me"

Sam's heart began to beat faster, but he refused for the moment to determine if it was in reaction to what Bucky's words revealed or to the physical exertion. He didn't have time for that.

Sam was afraid he had been too tough on Bucky, when he had talked to him about making amends. But he had heard his nightmares last night, he had seen the pain in his eyes when he had asked if he was still having them. Bucky had a right to be free of that and if that meant Sam had to be the one to tell him the raw truth then he would. And so he had.

He stopped to catch his breath. His phone vibrated in his pocket, it was a message from Bucky.

B: Thank you.

He breathed a sigh of relief, releasing a tension he didn't think he had. It seemed that his attachment to Bucky was already much deeper than he thought.

Sam answered the message right away, although the man wouldn't be able to read it for a few hours.

S: I have only shown you the way, the rest is in your hands. I have faith in you.

He put the phone back in his pocket. He had to keep practicing if he wanted to live up to the shield.

_____

Sam had been sitting for several minutes contemplating the suitcase that Bucky had brought him. He couldn't bring himself to open it. His cell phone screen lit up with a new message from Bucky.

B: First one, crossed out.

Sam figured if Bucky was working so hard, then Sam had to do the same. He stood up, opened the suitcase and contemplated his new armor for a few seconds.

He took a picture of it and sent it to Bucky with these words:

S: I'm ready.

He saw the dots dancing on the screen and waited for the answer, which was not long in coming.

B: I never doubted it.

S: Thank you.

B: For what?

S: For believing I was worthy of carrying the shield in my own way.

B: You said it yourself right ? It doesn't matter what Steve thought. You said it for me, but it's also true for you. The shield, Captain America, it's what YOU do with it that matters.

Sam had to restrain himself from calling Bucky, to hear him say it in person, to tell him in person, but he knew that if he did, the miss would be even worse. He shouldn't rush things, they were both on their own initiation path and they had to keep moving forward, each one separately for now.

S: I'll say it again, thank you. I don't know about you, but I'm tired. Good night Bucky.

His thumb danced over the sending button and then he added these last words.

S: Good luck for the next one.

The answer came back quickly.

B: Good night, Sam.

_____

With each new name crossed out the notebook, Sam received a message and with each message he intensified his training.

Today after Karli and the GRC, as he was leaving the Smithsonian Air and Space museum with Isaiah and his grandson, his phone vibrated again. He opened it with anticipation.

B: Last name on my list, I'm at the door.

S: Where are you? I'll meet you there.

B: By Nakajima Yori, I'll send you the address.

S: Okay. I'll wait for you in front of his house.

B: Okay.

Sam turned to Isaiah and his grandson, "May I leave you here, I really need to see a friend. You know him, Bucky."

Sam turned to Isaiah and his grandson, "May I leave you here, I really need to see a friend."

He was starting to walk away not waiting for the answer when Isaiah held him by the arm and said simply, "He'll never forget, but he'll learn to live with what he did. It will take time, but with you around, I have no doubt he will. Tell him if he needs to talk, my door is open." and at Sam's surprised face -after all Sam knew Isaiah's feelings for Bucky - Isaiah continued, "I did get used to the idea that a black Captain America could make the difference. Things change."

Sam nodded and said simply, "Thank you."

Then he left for the address Bucky had just sent him.

Sam shook his hand and said simply, "Thank you."

Then he left for the address Bucky had just sent him.

____

Bucky knew that he was about to break one of the few bonds he had managed to form since his return. That there would be no more Wednesday meetings. No more matchmaking advice.

And it is with a broken voice that he began, "I, uh, have to tell you something. About your Son."

Yori sat down as Bucky took off his gloves. He didn't have to hide anymore.

"He was murdered."

"What ?"

"By the Winter Soldier."

He paused for a moment before resuming in an even lower voice, "And that was me."

The old man began to cry and asked, "Wh-why?"

And Bucky gave him the only answer he knew to be true, which he had learned to accept but which did not make it any harder to say.

"I didn't have the choice."

As he closed the door, his throat tightened with tears he could not shed. Yori was the only person related to one of his victims that he had a personal connection to. Even though he knew he wasn't him when he did it, he knew that Yori would always see the face of the person who had taken his son from him. Bucky knew he had to remove himself from Yori's life. At least for now.

He walked downstairs and out the door, Sam was waiting for him leaning against his car.

He stopped, ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath. Sam approached him, and simply asked, "You did it man. Are you going to throw away that notebook now?"

"No, I think I'll send it to someone."

Seeing Sam raise an inquisitive eyebrow, he resumed, "To my shrink."

Bucky hesitated a bit before continuing, "I don't have any more names in the notebook, but uh... I need to go see one more person. Will you come with me?"

Sam looked at him a little surprised, before answering, "Sure, man. Come on. You can tell me where we're in the car."

"Actually we have to fly, it's pretty far."

"Good thing I'm on forced leave as there's no bad guys to catch. Where are we going?"

"Fairburn, Georgia."

"Fairb- Oh... okay... I see. Are you sure about this, man?"

"I have to... I have to go all the way."

"Okay." Sam hesitated for just a few seconds, but he couldn't help but squeeze Bucky's artificial hand briefly before saying, "I'll go with you Bucky." and then he started the car.

____

The next day, Sam was just a few steps behind Bucky as they walked through the garden of the Stark's cabin at Fairburn.

Bucky stopped as they approached the boardwalk by the lake and whispered,

"I'd like to go alone first if you don't mind Sam."

Sam moved closer, pressed the tensed man's shoulder without a word and let him walk forward.

He watched him walk to the end of the boardwalk. To the spot where Tony's ashes had been spread. He saw Bucky's lips move as if he were muttering a litany. Suddenly Sam saw him fall to his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Sam couldn't stand by and watch him like that. He went to Bucky, knelt behind him and wrapped his arms around him. The man froze for a brief moment before letting go in the embrace. Sam whispered in his ear, "It's okay Bucky, you can let go, I've got you, I've got you. Let go."

And Bucky let go. Sam held him until the tears dried up, until Bucky's shoulders stopped shaking.

Then he stepped back a little, put his hands on Bucky's shoulders and helped the man up.

Bucky, embarrassed, did not dare to look at him, so Sam simply took his hand, "Come on, let's go sit on the bench." and he led him behind him to the bench under the porch of the uninhabited cabin.

They sat down, Sam did not let go of Bucky's hand, and they sat like that in silence for a long time until Bucky whispered in a hoarse voice, "I'm sorry I put you through this."

Sam put a finger over his mouth to silence him. "I'm here because I want to be. I knew it wouldn't be easy."

"But why? Why would you want to be here?"

"Because I showed you this path, and you had the courage to follow it, and I wanted to be at the end with you. Because it's important to me, you are important to me. You're one of the bravest people I know and man, I'm an avenger, so I know a lot of brave people. You've done everything to free yourself. You took responsibility for things you did that weren't you. You took the opportunity to right a wrong you didn't consciously do. How could I not f-"

Sam paused, realizing what he was about to say.

Bucky had raised his head and Sam could read in the eyes, still blurred from the tears, a glimmer of hope.

Bucky whispered, "How could you not what?"

Sam knew this was one of those moments, like when he was about to spread his wings, just before he jumped. And he jumped.

"How could I not fall in love with you?"

He couldn't tell if it was him or Bucky who had moved forward, or both, but when his lips met Bucky's, he knew that he had made the right decision.

A feeling of joy seized him when he felt Bucky's fingers carding in his hair, pushing him to be even more closer. When the need to breathe made them separate a few minutes later, Sam could not help but stare at Bucky, who did the same.

He saw one last tear pearling at the corner of his eye and ran his thumb over it to wipe it away, and let his hand rest on Bucky's cheek who leaned in.

"I, too, I-" Bucky placed a kiss on his lips as if to build up his courage and continued, "I, too, fell in love with you."

Sam smiled at him and said, "Then everything is fine."

"If you don't mind a work in progress, then yes, everything is fine."

And for the first time since they had left New York, Sam saw the smile he liked best blossom on Bucky's lips. No, on second thought, it wasn't the same smile, on this smile, there was no longer a shadow , it was a smile that took its source in the eyes that shone with a new glow. The glow of someone who has freed himself from a weight that burdened his shoulders. Of a new or rather renewed man.

"We are all works in progress Bucky, that's what makes us human. And this may sound condescending to you, but I am proud of you James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes."

He placed a tender kiss on Bucky's lips, which the other man returned, then leaned against him again, wrapping his arms around his waist. Bucky put his arm around his shoulder.

They sat on the bench for a long time, watching the setting sun reflected on the lake, enjoying each other's presence and the fullness of being where you belong.

#Sambucky #The falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #bucky barnes #getting together

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