#when you stop making shit people fall away like dominoes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hourcat · 2 years

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Hiii! motogp ferrari pierre anon here!! I would love to write this fic but I am no writer hehe, but just for you (and katie), I wanted to give a better backstory

(By the way, I am not a motogp fan either, i don't even know anything about it, i just happen to love marc and fabio)

This year Ducati won and Italian media called them the real red team out of spite and maybe this angered Ferrari. They had enough engineers in different divisions that they had to lay off of the F1 teams due to the budget cap budget cuts so they collect them and employ some new people and announce a motogp team. (Don't ask me about timelines or how they can assemble it please). Italy is in chaos, they can't believe it but they're happy for it anyways.

Pierre is a disillusioned yamaha driver but he lost this year's championship along with Fabio because the bike he was given was shit. He knew that the time and patience he had with yamaha was up even if he had a special connection to them by racing in their feeder series. When Ferrari announce a new team, he jumps on the chance because he just needs a fresh start, one away from his ex team. Ferrari end up hiring him alongside some other xyz teammate.

Charles is still desperate to believe in the fairytale of Ferrari, he loves them will all his heart. He still carries his overly positive attitude about them with him. No one can dampen his happiness.

He is in maranello for some meetings regarding the development of the new car when he runs into pierre who is lost in finding conference room 1016. They know each other ofcourse but only in passing, mostly as honorary frenchies (sorry, monegasque*)

They goof around, talking for 5-6 minutes and just joking around better before pierre goes "oh shit I'm gonna be late, do you know the.....[]". Pierre invites him to dinner under the pretense of "so he can get to know maranello better if he's gonna be living here for a while"

Some fan posts a picture of them getting pasta from a small family restaurant, they're both mid laugh, pierre is reaching up to mess charles' hair after calling it too perfect like dominoes falling in place and it goes viral. Like it escapes the contamination zone, there are locals saying "I wish my relationship was like this"

Charles never hears the end of it from Alex, George, Lewis, other drivers

Pierre gets memes from Fabio and even Marc teases him

Ferrari love this. Charles & Carlos and Pierre & xyz make a good match but it's nothing like the fireworks pierles has.

In order to cross promote motogp and F1 to respective audiences, they keep pairing up piarles to do things together. It starts small but it's always fun. Everyone eats it up. Other driver pairings WISH they had half the chemistry piarles do

And ofcourse they fall in love in between. There's especially a gingerbread house competition in april because charles is not like other girls and christmas shouldn't be limited to only december! pierre teases him, calls him his favourite architect and stuff and charles is flustered. it ends in a food fight. later when they're back in maranello, pierre brings over hot chocolate with marshmallows in it because things like these shouldn't be limited to december's frost.

it goes on like this, they develop feelings but don't realise it, they get to each other better, a bit too better. lorenzo raises an eyebrow when charles mentions pierre got him a lucky necklace because his luck is shit and it has a horse lucky charm attached. arthur rolls his eyes and tells them to get married already.

But then something changes. Maybe charles has a bad accident in a race while pierre watches live from his apartment. He gets on the next flight even though he knows charles will be coming back soon anyways. He can't stop shaking the whole plane ride, just keeps touching his cross like it's his rosemary and like he can force god to look after charles. He doesn't even realise how big of a gesture this is until he gets to the hospital and half of the ferrari garage (whose stares he ignores) and arthur stare at him. he can see arthur wants to say something but keeps it to himself and instead says that he wanted to get enzo to take a coffee break anyways, he can meet charles on his own

when he goes in and sees charles smile his special smile, reserved only for him, then he can feel a weight lift off of his chest. only then he realises, fuck charles is special to him. (the idiot doesn't realise its love until later, same for charles who thinks it was nice of pierre to do for his bff)

Charles just says that to make sure he doesn't crash (or that someone doesn't crash him out) because bike accidents would hurt more, ouch pierre don't hit me I'm injured *puppy dog eyes*. "don't get injured then you fucking idiot.......ok fine come here"

they make time to see each other more, they're each other's safe spaces in a competitive season, they get each other without having to fight each other. they love it. even if it kills them to watch each other do dangerous moves in their particular races through a tv screen no less.

they both win because ofcourse they do. It's a ferrari 1-1, everyone is happy, everyone is screaming. ferrari throws the biggest party ever, it is bigger than anything rb and merc could have ever managed to put together jointly "because they're Italians and italians are fucking crazy pierre" "you would know since you're basically one" "well yeah :3" "oh so you only have a problem being called french now? I see how it is"

they both escape to the terrace after 3am. they nearly kiss under the full moon but a drunk seagull interrupts them. they laugh it off.

they go to their apartments at 5am. Charles hears his door knocks at 5:05 and it's pierre and before he can say anything , pierre kisses him. he kisses back. charles says he imagined it to be more romantic when they're both lying on his couch, still in the party clothes. pierre laughs at says "I'll make sure to have roses laid out in the hallway next time princess" before pulling him in for a kiss.

they know it's true love.

i am about 2 seconds away from genuinely gnawing my arm off. oh my GOD. ANON. YOU ARE LITERALLY SUCH A BIG BRAINED GENIUS? THIS IS SO GOOD????????? like i have nothing to add. nothing. this is perfection. i'm so so so so . [sobs into hands] they know it's true love. because of course it is. because it's them and they're soulmates

#literally about to hop a plane to fly to your door and kiss you on the mouth. i love this so much. oh my god.#piarlies come get yall juice we have A GENIUS AMONGST US #piarles #10 x 16 #ask reply #Anonymous #AU tag

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tearsofperseides · 2 years

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Taylor Swift songs that are Ronance in some way or another

this is a self-indulgent post

Gorgeous, obviously, do I need to say more? Because I will: This song is "told" through Nancy's perspective and I think it demonstrates the frustration that Nancy had with Robin at the beginning perfectly. Also these parts that I don't see people talk about: And you should think about the consequence // Of you touching my hand in the darkened room ...DO I NEED TO REMIND EVERYONE OF THE HANDHOLD?! Along with many other lines in the song that aligned with Ronance, such as the boyfriend line and the ocean blue eyes line

Next is Style, admittedly, this is really just a personal thing, I like to headcanon that one of Robin's favourite movies is Rebel Without a Cause and that she relates to Jim Stark (played by James Dean) and just... the overall vibe of the song, I imagine them just cruising in Steve or Nancy's car, blasting this at full volume.

Labyrinth, yet another Nancy Wheeler POV song... idk what to tell you, she's just very Swiftie core/j This song reminds me of when Vecna is defeated and Nancy is navigating her sexuality, the line You know how scared I am of elevators // Never trust it if it rises fast // It can't last just makes me think of Nancy trying to stop having a crush on Robin because her previous relationship never lasted, if you get what I mean? Another line that speaks Nancy on an astronomical level is You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back // Just like that.

A Robin POV song at last!!! Gold Rush, Robin is an evermore girlie, this isn't projection... totally not. This song is more based on s3, than s4. She just envies Nancy, like I have a feeling, she wants to be like her in a way that she's accepted; What must it be like // To grow up that beautiful? // With your hair falling into place like dominos Nancy, in her eyes, at this time, is the epitome of a perfect girl and perfect girls are accepted by people. The ending of the song is just Robin realizing that she could never be with Nancy, because of their circumstances.

Back to Nancy now... The Great War, of course let me start with the line My hand was the one you reached for // All throughout the Great War going back to the handhold once again, because it is precious to me. A lot of the lyrics can be applied to Ronance scenes with this one. Like And maybe it's the past that's talkin' // … // Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did The library scene, Nancy being jealous of Robin because she thought she was dating Steve. Broken and blue, so I called off the troops // That was the night I nearly lost you The scene where Robin first got caught by the vines. I vowed I would always be yours // 'Cause we survived the Great War This goes back to the whole s5 theory of how Nancy will be made to choose between Robin/Steve/Jonathan and she will choose Robin, because she didn't choose Barb and it will be all symbolism and shit lmaoo.

AND THE LAST ONE, THE FINALE, THE CHERRY ON TOP

Ivy, the Emisue anthem, if you will. I can write an essay on this one... every line fits with Nancy so well.

Oh, goddamn // My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand - Nancy finally has someone to confide in, someone who she feels will understand her on such a deep level, not just because of her trauma, but because she's the first girl after Barb she's been friends with. Robin listens to her problems, doesn't try to solve them, she's there for her when she needs to vent. Taking mine, but it's been promised to another Nancy is still in a relationship with Jonathan, her "hand has been promised to another". Oh, I can't // Stop you putting roots in my dreamland // My house of stone, your ivy grows // And now I'm covered in you She's tried to push Robin away, but Robin doesn't budge, she's not leaving her no matter how much Nancy is trying to push her away. Nancy's trying to not get attached to Robin, but Robin just by being herself has planted herself into Nancy's heart and is taking up the space in Nancy's mind and that only grows and grows. I wish to know // The fatal flaw that makes you long to be // Magnificently cursed I take this line in the context of Ronance 2 ways. 1. Nancy doesn't understand how Robin can be so cursed with herself as to want to be friends with her, "magnificently" specifically because Nancy is still thankful for her. 2. The way Robin's actually ok with being a lesbian in the 80's, of course, she's not out, but she still knows she only likes girls and isn't trying to change that (unlike Nancy). Crescent moon, coast is clear // Spring breaks loose, but so does fear both the crescent moon and spring have been used in a lot of literary works as a symbol for a new beginning with Robin, Nancy sees a new beginning, she sees it very clearly, but she's scared, of her sexuality, of what the people will think, of hurting Jonathan, of ruining this new found beginning etc. So yeah, it's a fire // It's a goddamn blaze in the dark // And you started it // You started it // So yeah, it's a war // It's the goddamn fight of my life // And you started it // You started it Nancy is at war with herself, she has feelings for Robin, but she thinks she's not supposed to (internalised homophobia), she's at war with herself because she doesn't know what happens next, because of Robin.

Thank you for letting me ramble about this, it was really fun!!!

Also, I have a Nancy Wheeler and a Robin Buckley playlist on my Spotify, if you want give them a listen!!

#stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #nancy x robin #robin and nancy #robin rambles #taylor swift #Spotify

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beautifulhigh · 1 year

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On grief, feeling what we feel, and taking a step back

I’m writing this having literally just finished listening to an interview my cousin did on a radio show about grief, about the way we feel when we lose a relationship that isn’t romantic or familiaral. Losing a friendship, a collegiate relationship, having to say goodbye to someone close to you.

I have thoughts that I want to get out so they’re under the cut. Trigger warnings for death, grief, depression & anxiety, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and a whole bunch of other misery.

Part of why I’ve been feeling so lost recently is because the end of February is the anniversary of my best friend, and then her birthday is 1 March, so basically that week I end up whirling myself up into grief and solemnity and rememberance. Brina was Jewish, had meningitis, and so within the space of a week I’d gone from getting the first message that she was sick, to coming home from her funeral. It felt like, in that week, I didn’t have time to process it.

It was also the start of some epic shit at work, shit that would eventually push my anxiety into depression, into suicidal thoughts and self harm. It felt like the first domino to fall in my life: I lost my best friend, I lost my confidence at work, and it felt like I was losing everything. It felt like everything was coming for me and for a while I considered letting it win.

I’m getting to the stage now where I look back on that time and see it as something I couldn’t have changed, couldn’t have prevented. There was no way I could have stopped what happened, the sequence of events. I got help. I got out of teaching and while I missed it for a bit I don’t now. The timing of everything that’s happened in my life since I resigned summer of 2019 has been a stepping stone to get me to here.

And I mostly like here, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

Losing Bri hurts, but not like it did in that first year. When I would pick up my phone to message her only to remember as our thread got further and further down my list. I remember my phone breaking and I nearly had a panic attack because I thought I was going to lose all those messages. God bless Samsung and their autoback up and transfer.

I’m getting better at focusing on her memory being a blessing. Listening to my cousin talk in that interview about grief and how it doesn’t care whether you were family or in love or knew them for three score years and ten. Losing someone is still losing someone and you still have things that were yours, that you feel like you don’t have anymore.

It still hurts, it’s going to hurt for a long time to come, and it hurts more when people don’t see and recognise that pain. For those people still in my life who see me dealing with it - or trying to - and to then brush it off or try to push it away? I can’t deal with that. I won’t deal with that. This is my grief, my pain, my sorrow and my joy. You don’t have to come and sit with me in it but if you do I’ll tell you stories about dropping radios into canals, and wrong orders at restuarants, and sneaking backstage at a panto.

At that point something kicked off at work - someone was getting upset at how I was treating them, I was upset at how they were treating me, and in the “discussion” that was organised to deal with it it became very clear they weren’t interested in hearing my side of things. They told me that I don’t know what’s going on in someone’s life and I should think about how my actions could be taken, and when I tried to say “you have a point, here’s my story” I was talked over and shut down. It made me feel like my life, my thoughts didn’t mater.

This year I spent those Serious Days™ in Los Angeles. I got to meet Emma in person and I had the most amazing time. And so dealing with them felt easier and I was happy and I was making all the memories they say you should.

Then I got on a plane and I came home and I crashed. Big style. I didn’t want to go back to work because that last day I’d been shut out of a conversation. That anxiety made me pull back and not say much and even then it felt like anything I did say was coming with a side of “oh shut up Jen”. Because I was wrong about something (even when I wasn’t), because it wasn’t my place to say something (even when it was an open discussion). Because I was shutting people out (even when I was offering up something that no one else knew or hand experience of).

I felt lost, I felt alone, and I was honestly scared because my anxiety was bubbling up and those awful dark thoughts were back in my head. Because who actually wanted me around?

I even started to lose my place in fandom: I’d express an opinion on something and have someone reply with an essay about why all my thoughts on this were wrong and rude and oh my god I can’t believe you would attack us like this do you just hate people? I’d say something and get an “well ACTUALLY” response. Even when it wasn’t, everything started to feel like an attack and I needed to do something before I, well, did something.

It’s why my parting comment before my mini semi hiatus was to be kind to yourselves. Because I want to believe that those who said and did things towards me these past few months weren’t coming to attack me. I want to believe that words on a screen without tone feed into our own interpretations and understanding of things and this is why things were not taken the way that they should have been.

Probably on both sides.

I’m literally tearing up as I write this, and for once that’s not internet hyberbole. Because I’m still not OK, but I am better than I was. I miss my friend and I will always miss her and I need to get better at sitting with my grief all year ‘round so that the week in February/March doesn’t slam into me.

If someone isn’t going to listen to me, then that’s on them. If they won’t hear my side of the story then I can’t make them. It could be they don’t care, it could be that they’re not ready to. If when I get to say to someone, “hey this thing upset me” they don’t apologise? I can’t make them. “I’m sorry if” isn’t an apology - there’s no if when someone literally tells you how they feel. If they don’t think they did anything wrong then that isn’t my fault. I need to get better at believing that and not thinking that somehow I’ve fucked up.

It still feels like it. It still feels like I’m fucking up everything I touch and so hey, maybe I shouldn’t touch things like ever and maybe I should just fuck off...

I want to try and find my space in this world. I want to take up space and not only feel OK that I’m taking up space but to understand that I am allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to like things people don’t and I’m allowed to dislike things people like (with all the usual caveats about people getting hurt etc etc but seriously - if you read this and go WELL ACTUALLY then you haven’t been paying attention to what this post is trying to say. Fuck off of you want to willfully misinterpret it). I’m allowed to say what I think and what I feel and I am not only allowed to have people in my life who will care about that and respect me for it, but I deserve that.

I deserve people in my life who are willing to listen to how I feel. I deserve people in my life who apologise without any hesitation or attempt at equivocation when they upset me, whether it’s intentional or not. I deserve to feel what I feel and think what I think and not be made to feel bad or less because of it. I deserve to have the time and space to express what I’m feeling so it doesn’t end up coiled so tightly in my body I feel like I need to cut it out.

And I want to be here. In every sense of that phrase. I really, really do. But sometimes it’s really fucking hard.

I’m trying to be kinder to myself. I can’t make people be kinder to me - and god so many of you are already more supportive and loving and amazing than I could have ever hoped - but this is where I’m at. This is what has been happening to me. With me.

I’m OK, I haven’t relapsed. I was closer than I would have liked when I started this semi hiatus and I have only gotten better as a result. I’m stabilising on my meds so there’s another good point. I know I’m kinda around but I’m not back-back yet, and listening to my cousin talk about grief and relationships this evening made me realise that if I don’t face it, sit with it, live with it and deal with it, then this will just come around and around and around like the worst fucking merry-go-round there is.

Jen

#jen and her broken brain #an update of sorts #semi hiatus posting #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: death #tw: grief #tw: self harm #tw: sucidal thoughts

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callmearcturus · 3 years

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Hey, Arc! You mentioned it in passing, but "why would fixing the Cerberus Problem with ME3 have dramatically improved the ending?"

(LONG POST and ALL THE SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE TRILOGY)

GLAD YOU ASKED. I just had lunch with Mum and basically went "okay, so here's how I would have fixed ME3." The goal here is to repair the story with the least need for changing locations and set pieces and the three act structure.

Lets first define The Cerberus Problem.

Cerberus as the main villain of ME3 was one of the biggest mistakes of the entire game. One, it diverts attention away from the A and B plot of the game (A: Reaper War, B: Uniting the galaxy) and introduces more complexity than the story actually needs. Every single moment of the story that uses Cerberus as the antagonistc force could have just as easily been filled by the Reapers, either by their ground troops or by their indoctrinated forces. Introducing a group of indoctrinated forces to the Reapers already fits pre-established canon. (HELL, HAVE THEM BE SPLINTERS OF CERBERUS GONE EVEN MORE ROGUE. Periodically you can get a call from TIM as he asks for help.)

And two, it runs counter to established canon. Cerberus is explicitly stated by EDI in ME2 to be a small organization, about 150 active operatives in three cells, and TIM doesn't like to grow larger than he can personally keep track of.

Cut to ME3 and I would wager money on the idea that by the end of the game, you've killed more Cerberus troops than Reaper troops. Why? This is terrible.

Also Cerberus makes a bad villain in the scope of ME3. The idea that TIM, someone so careful he won't even meet you in person, who not even the Shadow Broker knows who the fuck he is, who studied Reapers from afar-- that he somehow not only got indoctrinated but then huskified his entire force, like not only is it boring, it's a big ask, and it's a weak retread of Saren. Boo hiss.

So how do we fix it?

Cerberus should have been maintained as The Renegade Viewpoint for ME3.

TIM's purpose in the story should have been to research the Crucible for his own ends and to run his own operations to fight the Reapers, and the game should have leaned into the softening of Cerberus from ME2. Cerberus as the "we don't hate aliens, we just want to forward the human cause" becomes frankly a lot more sympathetic in ME3 which starts with the Council going "HM shit, sucks to be humans but we're not going to help you."

After three fucking games of being ineffectual shitheels, TIM could very very credibly call up Shepard and go "Listen, you don't like me, I'm not a huge fan of you, but the Council has abandoned us for a third time and if we want to win this, we have to go around them. Earth is dying, we need to prioritize our people."

I think the main conflict could have been more along those lines. Not solely "humanity trying to convince the council species to join the war" but "hey do you even believe in the Council? like, as an institution?"

(Which given what you learn on Thessia, I sure fucking don't.)

What if the coup at the Citadel wasn't just a silly Cerberus power-grab, but an attempt for them to remove the bureaucratic nonsense of the Council?

What if Shepard arrives on the Citadel, and has to decide if she wants to 1. stop Cerberus from assassinating the Council and preserve the false peace in the Serpent Nebula, or 2. let Cerberus take out the Council, and thus basically hand galactic decision making to each individual species, who you have a better shot at convincing?

In option one, the task of cajoling these people into the war is harder, but when the domino falls, they all fall. No more salarians sitting out the war because a sulky Dalatrass.

In option two, you get a stronger showing from the turians, the krogan, and anyone else you can rope into it. (lol remember how the Council fucking left the Elcor to die, i fucking do) But the ones you don't convince are sitting out.

And structurally, you make that decision, then go off to Rannoch to resolve that stickiest of wickets, then return to the Citadel after and see the effects of your prior decision. It works great as a small 'time skip' for the world state, giving time for the galactic community to figure out what they want to do.

This also fixes the Control ending.

Having played the ending within the past 24 hours, I was struck by how fucking hard the game pushes you towards Synthesis. It's transparently considered by the game to be the "correct" option. And as someone who finds Synthesis deeply fraught when contrasted to the main themes of Tuchanka and Rannoch, I bristle really fucking hard at that.

The final fucking decision of this trilogy should not be portrayed like that. Synthesis good, Destroy okay, Control BAD.

But if we remove the problem of TIM being a dumbass who got his ass indoctrinated and was Clearly Manipulated, then you can have TIM actually represent the option of Control without that miasma hovering over it. TIM being not a villain but not a good guy, but going "listen, if we control them, we can advance our technology, we can repair the damages of these wars, and we don't have to kill off your good good friends the geth, Shepard, you sentimental fuck."

The decisions in Mass Effect are at their best when they are not Good vs Evil, but Principled vs Pragmatic. And making Control the Renegade choice instead of the Bad choice gives players more agency and ownership over that final decision.

Another benefit of this tactic is the ending pacing is not so terrible.

If you haven't played it recently, the finale of ME3 is a mess. You have the cool and dramatic setpiece of the charge to the beam, good.

Then you have the confrontation with TIM, which was a mess and pretty terrible tbh.

AND THEN you have ANOTHER WHOLE ENDING. An ending that needs 10 minutes of fucking explanation from the Catalyst so you even understand what's being asked of you.

COUNTERPOINT: Remove TIM as the Ending One baddie. Have everyone figure out the vague parameters of the Crucible in the third act, before Shepard reaches it, and then have people advocate for each ending, and advocate honestly.

Like, Hackett is like "We came here to destroy them, we are willing to do whatever it takes, to pay any price, so Destroy them."

Have Liara maybe suggest "There's another way, we can synthesize and then eliminate this chasm between us and the Reapers, however we all will also be synthesized, but while we lose part of who we are we would gain so much more."

and then have TIM like "How about option C, for Control These Fuckers. If we destroy, we will lose all the advancement of our species, we'll potentially lose the relays, instead lets control these fucking things and make them pay for the hundreds of civilizations they have consumed. Let's not just get revenge for us, but for everyone, Shepard."

Isn't

That

A more interesting and sticky choice?

And then if you don't have the confrontation with TIM in the end, you open the Citadel arms, go directly to the Catalyst, and make your decision without the fucking Star Child there to talk to you, thus maintaining the dramatic momentum of the finale and then giving you your ending.

Does this fix it?

Personally, I don't think the Three Options ending can be fixed. But i think this way would drastically improve it while also solving a lot of the problems of the game. And this maintains the arc of the game, doesn't require massive changes to the setpieces, and remains in the parameters of what we got.

#mass effect #long post

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delicrieux · 4 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand)

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it.

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge.

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too.

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view.

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”.

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute.

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets.

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance.

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?”

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over.

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae.

looking hot, her message read.

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

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citrinesparkles · 3 years

Text

welcome home.

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 2,086 words. notes: requested by an incredibly flattering anon as part of my hundred followers celebration! thank you again for the feedback, and for enabling me :) also was subconsciously influenced by this piece. warnings: arguing, discussion of danger, reader gets accidentally threatened, patching up wounds, lots more swearing than my usual (but it's all mild language). angst and comfort, i think. super dialogue heavy. this is so long and a little (lot) messy just. prepare yourself

"man," a robotic voice echoed dangerously through the dark living room, sending chills through you. "did you pick the wrong apartment."

luckily, the voice was familiar. "um, the one i live in?"

he choked out your name, startled, and you flicked on the light switch to find him frozen in place with a gun in his hand.

"right." you said tensely, glancing at it- which made him jerk his hand down, shoving the gun into its holster as though it burned him- and looking back up at the eyes of his helmet. "so, uh, i'll turn a light on next time."

"you shouldn't be home yet," he said stiffly.

"i texted you like, three hours ago to let you know i'd be home a day early."

he swore quietly. "my phone's in the river."

"how did it- you know what, at least that explains the radio silence. you didn't think to have someone else- anyone else- let me know?"

"uh." he paused, tensing almost imperceptibly for a moment. "no. i was, uh, i was busy. i'm sorry."

"busy, huh?" something felt very wrong, and not just the fact that he had nearly shot you. "okay, i'll bite, busy with what?"

"nothing important."

the sinking feeling in your stomach intensified and your eyes narrowed dangerously. "important enough that you forgot to tell me you weren't dead in an alley somewhere, when you knew i'd be texting to check in anyway. leaving me worrying in a hotel room in another city."

"nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to worry about." you were really getting sick of the sound of his modulator, but he continued before you could say anything. "go back to what you were doing, babe."

"yeah... uh, no." you stepped forwards and he flinched back defensively, making you freeze. "seriously, what is up with you tonight?"

"noth-"

"jason, i promise if you say nothing one more time, i'm going to lose my mind."

he shifted his foot back slightly, and you took a deep breath.

"okay," you conceded, raising your hands up in surrender and moving backwards yourself. "respecting your space now. that wasn't my best decis-"

your voice cut out when something under his jacket caught your eye.

something red.

"holy crap, jason, what the hell?"

he winced quietly. "you weren't supposed to be home yet, okay?"

"take that stupid helmet off already, would you?" you snapped, already moving to get the first aid kit.

"i would've gone somewhere else if i'd known, okay?" his voice, now clear and crisp without the filter, followed you down the hall.

"that does not make this better!"

"can you please not yell at me right now?"

you dashed back into the room, shooting a vicious glare at him. "jacket."

he slid it off gingerly, dropping it on the couch next to his helmet.

"can you get the armor, or do i need to help?"

even despite the domino mask he was wearing, you could tell he was rolling his eyes. "if i couldn't do it on my own, why would i have come here if i didn't think you'd be home?"

"hm," you took the piece he handed you and carefully set it on the couch, "maybe because you're a stubborn jackass?"

he grunted, sliding his undershirt off and passing it to you. "i don't wanna stain the couch with that."

"your priorities suck."

"it's the nicest piece of furniture we own!"

"it's still a couch!"

"it was expensive!"

"oh for crying out loud-" you threw your hands up again, this time in frustration. "fine! fine. i'll go put this in the tub and get a soak going. you-" you shoved the kit towards him pointedly- "start washing that off."

"how come you're calling the shots?" he snapped back petulantly.

"because my torso's in one piece."

"i have way more experience with this, i should be making the decisions here."

"oh, of course, my apologies!" your voice was absolutely dripping in sarcasm. "what, pray tell, would you have us do?"

he scowled at you for a moment before reaching for the first aid kit and flicking the lid open. "whatever."

you turned on your heel, stomping into the bathroom.

the shirt got thrown into the tub and the tap got tossed all the way on, and as the water crashed into the gray fabric, you took the opportunity to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply.

you opened your eyes a minute later, finding the water dyed a rusty almost-red from blood.

his blood.

you turned off the tap- gently pushed the handle, this time, the fire in your chest now largely extinguished- and made your way back to the living room to find him running a rag over the space below his ribs.

"may i?" you asked softly, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to him.

his jaw clenched and relaxed three times in quick succession, but he finally sighed and dropped his shoulders before holding the rag out. "yeah, c'mere."

you worked in silence, being as gentle as possible. jerking your hand back and mumbling apologies when he hissed.

"s'okay, comes with the territory."

you pressed the alcohol-soaked towel back against him, and he sighed.

"that was stupid, huh."

a small laugh escaped you. "it so was."

"can we..."

"try that again?"

"yeah."

you pulled back, standing up straight to meet his eyes. "only if i can take the dumb mask off of you."

"i thought you liked the mask," he teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"jason."

he chuckled, wincing again when it jostled his wounds. "ouch. uh, yeah, mask. g'head."

you gently pulled it from his face, setting it neatly on his other gear before running your thumbs across the line of adhesive it left on his cheekbones. "hi there."

"hey." he leaned into your touch, vibrant eyes fluttering halfway shut. "so uh, welcome home."

"thanks. could've done without the gun, though."

a choking sound tore from his throat, his eyes flying back open. "holy shit, baby, i almost-" he jerked back from you, no regard for his side. "you almost- shit, shit, are you- i'm so sorry, i didn't-"

"okay, woah, hey-"

"i could have killed you."

it was a whisper, horrified and harsh, and while it was technically true, his tone teetered on the edge of a dark space you had seen before and really didn't want him falling back into.

"yeah."

you desperately searched for the right thing to say, rejecting variations of "but hey, you didn't actually", "maybe you should be more careful about waving a gun at people", and one particularly unhelpful "no shit, sherlock".

finally, you settled on a quiet, calm "but i'm still right here, okay?"

his hand flew up to cover his mouth, doing absolutely nothing to hide the near panic written on his features. "i could have killed you."

"okay, so, in the future, we'll... we'll uh, we'll come up with some kind of system for letting you know when i'm home, or something."

"oh, like a phone?" he asked harshly. "the one i was stupid and sloppy enough to dunk in the harbor?"

"that wasn't- i'm guessing that you had a lot on your plate." you waved the cold, bloody towel in your hand at his wounds. it made him curl in on himself slightly, stepping backwards again until his back hit the arm of the couch.

"no excuses. i could have killed you."

"i-"

"no, i almost shot without saying anything!" he exclaimed, brow furrowed and eyes stormy. "i thought someone had broken in, and i got so- i don't even know, damn territorial or some stupid shit- that i almost put a bullet between your eyes. i could have-"

"jason!"

he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head, roughly tugging his fingers through his hair. "i almost-"

"but you didn't. okay?" every fiber of your being wanted to hold him, to tug him into you and put his hand against your ribs and show him you were okay and breathing, heart still pumping, but he looked enough like a cornered animal that you half expected him to bite you if you tried. "c'mon, jaybird. a life like yours, can you really afford almosts?"

"life like mine, i can't afford to let anyone close to me. apparently, if the goons and thugs don't kill you, i will."

"that's not-"

"what if i hadn't said something?" he snapped venomously. "what if i'd lost more blood and was loopy from it? what if i'd come home with a concussion- again- and didn't think past 'point and shoot'?"

"jason," you finally interjected. "you think i haven't thought about that?"

his eyes, grim and vicious and so full of emotion that you thought you could drown in them, dropped to the floor.

"because it's not a secret that your life is risky. you're risky. i know that. but you're worth every ounce of danger, okay? i'm choosing this, choosing you, knowing full well what i'm getting into, because you're worth all of it."

"i'm not worth any of it."

"that's not your call to make."

"it-"

"you think i need you to make my choices for me?"

"no, of course not."

"you think im stuck here?"

"do you feel like you are?"

"absolutely not." you inched forward again. "i'm here because i want to be."

"...i just... i don't..."

"don't want me to get hurt?"

he finally looked back up at you, eyes watery and jaw tense. "or worse."

"i know, baby. i know," you sighed. "but that's part of life, right? and if the hurt's inevitable, i want the rest of my time to be as nice as possible, and you make my life better. make me better."

"by putting you in danger?"

"it's gotham, handsome, i'm gonna be in danger either way. at least with you, i know i have someone looking out for me. right?"

"always," he said immediately.

"okay then." you took the last step between the two of you slowly, watching for any resistance. meeting none, you brushed your knuckles against his. "i can't think of anywhere i'd feel safer."

"you know that's crazy, right?"

you hummed quietly. "nah."

"i'm being serious."

"me too."

he studied your face silently. you smiled softly at him.

finally, a sigh escaped him and he scooted his hand forward, wrapping his index finger around your own and squeezing gently. "you're sure you want this? i can set you up with a place downtown for a bit. you'd never have to see me again, never have to worry about... all of this."

"i've never been more sure of anything." you said it firmly, confidently, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments before popping one eyebrow up playfully. "why, need to make room for a side piece?"

a startled choking sound escaped him. "excuse me?"

"i mean, when you were talking about being busy, it felt kinda suspicious."

"what is wrong with you?" he asked, exasperation and laughter coating his voice.

"listen, you were being evasive!" his head fell forwards, resting on your shoulder as he laughed.

"i didn't want you to know i was bleeding all over the place!"

"why, didn't want me to worry?"

"exactly!"

you reached your free hand up, gently resting it on the back of his head and playing with his hair. "then maybe, just maybe, you should have gotten someone to tell me your phone went for a swim."

"fair enough."

you stood quietly for a long time, running your fingers through his hair and enjoying the feeling of his breath against your collar.

"i..." he muttered, pulling back to look in your eyes. "i don't think- um. i don't think i'm..." he groaned, gaze darting to the ceiling. "i love you. but the minute you have enough of- of all of this-"

"i won't."

"but if you do, i'll... i'll understand, okay?"

you squeezed his finger gently. "okay." you inhaled deeply, dropping the bloody towel you were still clutching and slid your hand forward to hold his completely. "can we get a bandage on that and go to bed, now?"

"....yes please."

---

"wait!" you yelled, throwing the first aid kit haphazardly onto the bathroom counter and racing after him into the bedroom, where he whirled around with wide eyes. "i love you too! i never said it back- i love you too."

"don't yell like that- i thought something was wrong!"

"me not saying it back is urgently wrong, jason!"

#citrine writes #this was. this was a monster #i sure hope you enjoy because i'm unsure how quality it is #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #imagines #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine #blood cw #medical cw

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Long Story Short (3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Modern AU)

Description :

Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you

Word Count : 2.2k words

Warning : fluff, ex Steve, Bucky Barnes my beloved, Just Bucky being an amazing partner

Bucky Barnes does not do relationships. Well, to put it in better words; Bucky Barnes did not do relationships until he met you. As a marriage counselor, he had advised many couples to just get a divorce, and even though he had saved a lot of marriages, the bad ones always hurt him more. To be the person to witness unhappy couples was not the best profession. But again, to be the person to save a marriage or bring back the lost love made his profession the best in his mind.

He did not have hope for a future relationship. He tried dating, it did not work out, and then he became the man who always left after the night and never stayed over. Not only that, but he thought his life would remain the same, and he would become a miserable 60 years old that hated lovesick teenagers and would die in his bed alone.

Bucky’s life changed when he met you on the flight. You, with your obvious shittier life, changed everything for him that weekend. And that was two years ago.

He fell in love and that changed it all, things just started falling into place perfectly like a domino effect going smoothly. He called you the moment you landed and asked you out. Likewise, he was scared that what happened back in his hometown was some sort of escape for you. Luckily, it wasn’t, you said yes and he was ecstatic.

The date went splendidly, you talked about everything from your careers to your embarrassing high school moments that still sometimes haunt you at night. He told you about his family and he came clean about what went down with Dot (She wanted a relationship, he didn’t and then he bolted). It scared you, Bucky was so different, you’ve never been with someone who didn’t plan everything out, but it was exciting nonetheless. He assured you that he wanted a relationship with you because and let's be honest, he was already very smitten.

He thought that was the best weekend of his life. You proved him wrong, every day with you was the best day of his life.

“This is technically our third date,” you suggested.

He gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “This is our first date to me and you’re already trying to get in my pants. Give me some respect, lady.”

You laughed, shoving a hand on his arm playfully, and he held your wrist, bringing your body closer to his. He wrapped his other hand around your waist and leaned down to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “ As much as I would love to stay the night. I wanna do right by you, doll.”

You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, foreheads pressed together, before you jokingly said, “FYI, I have already been in your pants before.”

That was the moment Bucky knew you were the one for him.

***

Alpine fell in love with Bucky quicker than you could. On the fourth date when Bucky finally let you take him home, Alpine came from her hideout in the kitchen and sat on his feet. Alpine never did that with anyone, your friends had told you that you had the most hostile cat ever. Whenever a new person entered your apartment, Alpine either ignored them or attacked them, but with Bucky, she was affectionate.

For you, it wasn’t one moment that made you realize you were in love. Unlike Bucky, you had a lot of issues to deal with before you could give yourself completely to him.

Bucky never judged you, he gave you the time you needed and never pushed you when he was ready to acknowledge he loved you.

Of course, the insecurities were also present, you’d have urges to go throw his phone or stalk everyone he follows on Instagram. You told Bucky, hoping he doesn’t call you crazy, but instead he gave you his phone’s password. Yes, now your face could unlock his phone too. He told you he trusted you, and you were it for him so if that’s what you needed to be sure, he would happily oblige and wait for you.

It took you six months to finally acknowledge your love for him.

When you were working on a divorce case, the wife told you that when her husband walked into a room, she didn’t feel anything. You got lost in her story and told her how when your boyfriend, your Bucky was nearby you felt calm, lighter even. She smiled and told you she would like to have a love like that. And your mind just went, ‘Holy shit, I am in love with Bucky’. After wrapping up for the day, you immediately rushed towards Bucky’s office, you couldn’t wait to tell him about your recent discovery.

You sat across from him at his office, anxiously fiddling with your finger. “Bucky, I need to tell you something important.”

He looked up from the file on his table and closed it before giving you all of his attention. He always did that which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Go ahead, doll. I’m all ears.”

“I... I need to tell you something important.”

He nodded his head, encouraging you to go ahead.

You exhaled and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Bucky studied your features, concern quickly replaced intrigue. This is it, he thought. You’ve realized that he was a rebound and now you were breaking up with him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I love you.”

You both said at the same time.

“What?” you queried, standing up from your seat and moving towards his chair.

You settled on his lap, cradling him, one of his hands rested on your thigh and the other on your lower back, holding you still on his legs. “What?”

“I love you,” you confessed, taking his cheeks in your palms and you gently pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Say that again,” a grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reached his ears.

“I love you,” you said, beaming with adoration in your eyes.

“God, doll. I love you so much.”

***

After dating for a year, you decided to move in together. Every day with you had been the happiest day of Bucky’s life. It had been exactly two years since you met Bucky and he was so head over heels for you that sometimes he couldn’t even voice it. Maybe that is why he had a velvet box in his pocket, so that he could express his love for you without gathering the courage to say it.

Both of you decided that for your second anniversary, you were going to have dinner in your shared apartment that you made home. You planned to order take out with movies followed by lovemaking, whereas Bucky planned to make you his fiancé by the end of the night - which was also followed by intense lovemaking.

While on his way home, he stopped to pick up your favorite flavor of the cake. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly picked it up without checking who it was.

“Hey, pal,” Steve’s voice greeted him, taking him by surprise. Bucky hadn’t talked to his best mate since - well, since he found out what he did to you. Bucky was furious that he hurt you like that and made you doubt yourself. The selfish part of Bucky was thankful, not for hurting you, but for leaving you because Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you. And hopefully, after the proposal, he wouldn’t have to.

“Steve,” Bucky said. A silence lingered where both of them could hear the other breathing, but none of them knew what to say, if anything was even left to say. Both of them broke the silence together at the same time.

“Peggy and I are getting a divorce.”

“I’m going to propose to Y/N.”

“You what?” Steve asked.

“No, you what?” Bucky countered.

Steve exhaled through the device connecting two old pals and spoke, “Yeah, we tried, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t even know why I went back after the first time. I lost so much by just doing that.”

Both of them were aware of what he was talking about; you. Steve lost you from falling into old patterns with his ex-wife. Steve regretted it. Peggy’s pregnancy wasn’t planned and when she told him, he tied down the knot for the sake of his future family. It took Steve two months to realize that he loved you and not his wife. He didn’t contact you, you asked him not to. The only reason he invited you to his wife’s baby shower was so that he could win you back. He hoped seeing him would make you want him again, but when you walked in with his best friend’s hand in yours, he didn’t know how to react. He had lost you to Bucky of all people and he hated his mate for this, for taking away the best thing in his life.

“Are you sure about her?” Steve questioned, hoping to raise some doubts and second thoughts in his best pal’s mind. He knew that was wrong, but he desperately wanted you back.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bucky answered dreamily and Steve could feel his heart crack.

Steve should have stopped, he shouldn’t have relented but Steve wasn’t a good man like you thought he was. Good men don’t cheat on women, good men aren’t selfish. “It's gonna change everything between us, pal. Is she worth it?”

“Yes.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate in his answer and hung up the phone instantly. He realized quickly that anything that separated him from you or even tried to was not going to be in his life. Bucky was a possessive man and he would die rather than give up his two best girls, you and Alpine.

***

When Bucky came back, you didn’t expect him to kiss you so feverishly, as if he let you go, he’d lose you. He would never lose you, that you were sure of.

Your anniversary went down as you planned. Eating pizza and talking while the movie became a background noise was peaceful, domestic and everything else you desired. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Just you and him — and Alpine, obviously.

Bucky was hiding something that much you could feel. You both always knew when something was up with the other. A tiny part of your brain panicked that maybe Bucky was cheating on you. He wasn’t; there were no signs, but your brain always mustered up the worst condition as a defense mechanism.

So, when Bucky got down on one knee with a ring in his hand as you were bringing the cake from the kitchen, tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky gently took the cake from you and placed it on your dining table before getting a hold of your hands in his.

“Doll,” he started, and tears were already starting to stream down your face. “ I love you so much that it physically hurts me sometimes. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to be happy, but God, you make me so happy and I can’t even…”

A lump formed in his throat and he tried again, “I had this whole speech planned and now I can’t even get a sentence out without crying. They make it look so easy in those rom coms.”

You chucked, stifling a sob that was threatening to break out. ” Nothing about us has been conventional. I mean, from the way we met to the way I’m proposing, but that is what I like about us. You are already my home, my family, my everything and I would like you to be my wife too. So, Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me? ”

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” you beamed, holding his palm tightly, supporting him to stand up. He situated the ring on your finger before claiming your lips in his. He kissed you with so much passion and adoration that you felt that even if the earth swallowed you whole at that moment, you still wouldn’t mind. You’ll be glad because you got the opportunity to know and love a man like Bucky.

After the very anticipated and passionate lovemaking, you settled your head on Bucky’s chest, limbs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around you, igniting you with warmth and love, so much love.

“Alpine is gonna get mad that I took her man,” you remembered, repeating the words you said all those years ago in a hotel room. You did not know where it was going then but God, you wanted it to go somewhere. Somewhere like this, engaged to him.

Bucky chuckled, reminiscing that night and weekend before pulling you closer, placing a kiss on top of your head and promised, “Alpine is not the love of my life, my future wife, my everything, doll. You are.”

TAGS : @ladydmalfoy @niffala @vicmc624 @leyannrae @priii

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Note

angst fic where ravenclaw!reader has thalassophobia and is playing with the water by the shore in the dark lake with the necklace draco gave her before they broke up a few years back when the new girl he’s been going out with throws the necklace into the middle of the lake in spite, and the reader cannot afford to lose it djeiwis sorry if it’s messy u dont have to do it ure uncomfyyy

Prompts:

If you die, I’m going to kill you.

Jump In || Draco Malfoy

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ANGST, a bit of swearing, panic attacks and thalassophobia mentioned. Summary: Years after breaking up with Draco you find that the last gift he gave you is still the only thing comforting you, and his new girlfriend doesn’t like that.

WORDS : 3546

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

The crescent moon outside begs for your company and you oblige, preferring to be alone than stuck in a room full of people who pity you. You lift the bottom half of your dress from the ground and sneak out of the ballroom nonchalantly, anxiety dissipating as the soft breeze comes in contact with your face.

The sound of your heels clacking against the cobblestone fills the air as you walk toward the boardwalk hanging above the lake, and it reminds you of a time when Draco would bring you down here. The lake behind the Malfoy Manor has always been subject to your fear, and you rarely ever go toward it, but tonight you’ll do almost anything to feel alone and normal for once.

The tiny ripples forming on the surface send shivers running down your spine and you look up at the sky immediately in an attempt to subdue your anxiety. A few meters away lies the ballroom, full of dignitaries and old family friends of the Malfoy’s who attend their annually ball every time without fail, and you can hear the faint sound of laughter mixed with a beautiful crescendo. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and drag your fingers up to your neck to toy with necklace lying around it, as you try to imagine that you’re anywhere else.

You’d thought that it would be easier, coming to the ball and seeing him with his new girlfriend, but it had proved to be a bigger challenge than you’d anticipated, and residual feelings that you’d been trying to stuff down for months had resurfaced like anchors being pulled up from the bottom of the sea. It reminded you of what he said that day, “I’m yours forever, even if you’re not mine.”, and the only thing that stopped you from running back into his arms was the chain hanging around your neck.

A silver chain with a midnight blue sapphire dangling on its end, worth one of your arms and a gift from the blond himself. He had given it to you as a promise, one to love you till the sun stopped rising, and at the time you had thought that it was the perfect gesture. But reality hit and you soon realized that a life with Draco Malfoy would be one filled with envy and uneasiness, and you knew then that you both deserved more.

The necklace’s monetary value reminds you that Draco belongs to a long and esteemed family line which demands attention that you cannot cope with. But the fact that it had been his proclamation of love reminds you that in order for you both to lead happy lives, you must be apart. The way it gleams beneath Chandeliers is so captivating that it always brings you back to earth; a life with Draco is inviting, but some invitations mustn’t be accepted.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

All eyes instantly fell on him the second that he appeared; sporting that notorious smile which always brought people to their knees, and a priceless suit that hugged his figure so well it made all the straight men positively envious. A true Malfoy; charming, rich, attractive, easily the whole package. You didn’t get a chance to speak with him because he was instantly preoccupied with the ramblings of his mother as she dragged him around the room with pride, showing off the son that she’d done such a good job at raising.

Draco’s life had always been politics and he’d been raised to invariably stand tall, look presentable, get good grades, converse well. You watched him in awe every time, admiring the grace and ease with which he conducted himself. But it made you wonder when he’d been taught the art of letting the spotlight go, to focus all of his attention on the one he loves instead of the search for approval. And the answer was that he hadn’t, Draco never grew out of the desire to have everyone’s praise and approval.

‘If everyone loves you, if everyone wants to either be you or be with you, then you’ve succeeded.’ He’d told you late one night after one these balls. You’d looked at him with pity, not having the heart to tell him that love and validation are not synonymous, and you’d hugged him so hard that somehow you both knew it was all coming to an end soon.

He grew up being a magnet to both jealousy and admiration, a symphony of applause being the background track to the movie of his life, and he didn’t know how to live any other way. When all you’ve ever known is lustful stares from fellow peers, stolen glances at the back of your head, and unbridled acclaim masked behind attraction, then it’s hard to put that life behind and settle for the love of only one person.

Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

He truly was magnificent though, even you couldn’t deny. Years ago, when he’d walked down the stairs in one of those clad black suits, he had met you at the bottom of the stairwell and you could’ve sworn that you were floating on cloud 9. He had smiled so brightly at the sight of you, had laughed so sweetly in the space of your ear, and fit so tightly into your side like it was a home made only for him, that you were intoxicated on the feeling of him and hadn’t noticed what was happening.

You were falling in love. You weren’t flying, no, you didn’t have wind beneath mystical wings that you’d somehow managed to grow. You were falling, and at a speed so treacherous that you didn’t even realise it was happening until it was too late. One day you were falling, and the next you were ruins buried so far into the ground that you couldn’t even tell where the earth stopped and you started.

Falling in love with him was fast, like a bullet train, but everything after was so slow that you felt as if you weren’t even moving at all.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it could never be

Promises to run away together and start a life somewhere off in a distant town.

Fingertips, laced with the narcotic effect of young love, tracing lines across the expanse of each other’s faces and trying to figure out which of the other’s features would be inherited by your children.

Dreams about a time when your lives would no longer be dictated by the paths your parents had set out for you, but instead by the spontaneity and reassurance that came with endearment.

Tastes of tea replaced instead with the taste of each other as long-forgotten tisanes made home on bedside tables because you both got lost in the haze of tenderness.

Arguments about mundane and useless concepts that would go on for longer than necessary, because he insisted on disagreeing with everything, and always ended with your acute responses.

Lives that had once lacked passion, that had once been so dull they compared to Snape’s drawling, instead replaced with all the colours that the world had to offer.

It was the perfect life, the one you two had planned.

But it was too perfect to ever be real.

You take a deep breath and unhook the necklace to observe it once more, hoping that it’ll provide some comfort for the ache in your chest.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

“Y/N.” A voice slurs behind you.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and roll your eyes when you see who it is, “Pansy.”

“Don’t be rude.” She hisses and hiccups as she stumbles toward you, “What are you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” You narrow your eyes at her, “Are you drunk?”

“Just a tad.” She replies as she hiccups again and finally stands before you. You watch silently as she gracefully sits on the wood below her, making sure not to create creases in her dress or fall over in her heels.

“Shouldn’t you be in there? On his arm like a trophy?” You ask, and inwardly groan when you hear how jealous you sound.

“Probably.” She shrugs and looks out into the water. “It doesn’t matter though, I’m not you.”

She looks up and into your eyes, you look away immediately. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that.”

“Yes, you do.” She states bluntly, “He told me why you left him. That was really selfish of you.”

You gasp and turn to look at her, “How dare you? You have no idea-“

“No, actually, I do.” She gets up from the ground swiftly as a fire rages in her eyes, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be like him? We’re the same, we were practically raised on the same blueprint. Despite what you think, there’s a lot more to the issue than what lays on the surface.”

“Oh and I guess you have all the answers?” You spit out with a scoff.

“I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be smart.” She shakes her head and hiccups as she turns to face the water, “Draco’s entire life has always just been this.” Pansy turns and gestures toward the Manor with a grimace.

“It’s always been about being the best in the room, just so that he can earn five seconds of approval from his parents. But you came, and you showed him more, you gave him a glimpse of what love feels like. Then, because you were scared and couldn’t hack it, you left him.” She continues and you grip the necklace tightly in anger.

“That’s not what happene-“

“How can you possibly expect him to come back to me, to this bullshit, when he’s experienced actual happiness? How is he supposed to come back from you?” She finally turns to face you and you hear a slight crack in her voice with the last words, “I love him so much and if I could make him half as happy as you do then I would.”

“You can.” You breathe out shakily, “If you two try a little more then you’ll realise why it just makes sense.”

“Love isn’t about sense Y/N. It’s not about appearances, it’s not about applause, it’s not about any of the crap that him and I were raised to prioritize.”

“You call it crap but that’s all he knows, and he just isn’t ready to give it all up.”

“Why do you get to decide that for him?” She tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows, you look away from her.

“I should probably get back inside.” You mutter as you start to turn toward the manor.

“You’re righ-“ She gasps and you turn to see what’s shocked her, “You still have it?”

“Have what?”

“The necklace.” She points to your hand and you nod awkwardly in agreement, “I helped him pick it out.”

“Oh.”

“A sapphire to match your virtue and faithfulness.” She says absent-mindedly as her eyes lock on the piece of jewellery. “Guess he got that wrong.”

She laughs coldly and you scrunch your face in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“You’re just like the rest of them.” Before you even know what’s happening she’s reached for the necklace in your hand, “You love him until it’s no longer convenient, until the paint starts to chip.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice comes out shaky and lacking conviction, it makes her laugh again in disgust.

“And then who has to pick up the fallen pieces? Me.” She continues to ramble as she walks toward the edge of the boardwalk, you feel your breathing start to pickup as you try to focus on her instead of the lake behind her. “As if I don’t have my own pieces to pick up.”

“Pansy, please just come here so we can talk about this nicely.” You respond and swallow.

“No. You don’t deserve a civil conversation.” She spits out as she finally reaches the edge of the boardwalk and hangs the necklace out by her arm, “In fact, you don’t deserve anything. You don’t deserve his love and you definitely don’t deserve this pendant.”

“No!”

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore

Everything after falling in love with Draco happened in slow motion. You don’t know how, or when, but your life had become a slackening slideshow of bad decisions.

You hold your breath as you watch the necklace fall into the lake. It’s as though minutes, hours, days pass in that moment, but you know that it’s merely a few seconds. When the splash finally sounds, you let out a huge gasp and Pansy laughs as she turns to leave.

Panic sets in and you start to contemplate your options. You could jump in and get it yourself? No, that’s absurd, you’re not going to overcome your fear that easily. You could rush into the manor and find someone who’s willing to get it for you? No, no one would take you seriously.

You shake your head and decide to just do the easiest thing; try and work up the courage to get it yourself. You start to pull off your heels and scrunch up your dress so that you can step into the water and you walk toward the edge of the boardwalk.

But as soon as you’re near the water you realise that you can’t do it and your panic rapidly worsens. You step back a few paces before falling to the ground and pulling your head into your knees as silent sobs begin to shake your core.

Breaths, in rapid beats, are going to and from your lungs as the sound of the water swishing fills your ears. Nausea begins to set in your stomach as you think more and more about your terrible predicament, your fear of bodies of water and your sadness at losing the necklace combining to form one indestructible lump in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N? Are you out here?” A voice calls out from a yard or two away and you try to recognize it, but everything is foggy in your state of trepidation.

“Shit, Y/N!” The voice calls out once more and you hear footsteps pick up to a run as the person approaches you. “I swear to Merlin, if you die I’m going to kill you!”

You realise that the person still hasn’t noticed you, and is probably assuming the worst, so you try your best to croak out a word- any word.

“Here.” You manage to rasp out between sobs and wheezes, and the person immediately runs toward you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” They ask as they pull your head out from your knees and you try to nod slowly.

You blink back a few tears and try to focus on the face in front of you, “The- the-“ You try to say and shake your head of the confusion as the words refuse to formulate.

“Hey, breathe princess.”

You recognize the nickname and then soon enough your eyes register that Draco’s kneeling in front of you. “Draco?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He responds softly as he cups your face in his hands and tries to wipe a few of your tears, “Take a few deep breaths for me, yeah?”

You nod and do as told, breathing until you finally calm down and manage to think clearly again. “I’m okay.” You breathe out and he sighs in relief.

“I was so worried, Pansy came in rambling about getting back at you and something about tossing and water- And I was just so scared that she’d thrown you in or something, because I know that you can’t swim and you’re terrified of the lake so I-“

“Hey, slow down, I’m okay. I’m right here.” You respond and manage a weak smile. He nods and sighs again. “She didn’t toss me into the water, though I think she would’ve liked to. She threw in the necklace. Shit! The necklace, it’s still down there!” You exclaim as you try to stand up but find that your legs are asleep, and end up coming back down instantly.

“Calm down. What necklace?”

“The one you gave me, the one with the sapphire that you said was a family heirloom?” You ramble and he furrows his eyebrows.

“You still have that?”

“Yes, I do. And it’s at the bottom of the lake and I need to get it back!” You stand up and Draco immediately does the same, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you still.

“It’s just a necklace Y/N, you don’t need it.”

“It’s not just a necklace, it’s-“ You pinch your nose and sigh, “It just means a lot to me, okay?”

He narrows his eyebrows but nods in understanding, “Okay.” He steps back from you and pulls off his suit jacket, looking absolutely magnificent with his toned shoulders showing beneath the well-fitted shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get it for you.” He shrugs and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, I can figure something out.”

“You tried to figure it out and you had a full on panic attack, I’m the best option.” He says sternly as he looks at you and you nod in agreement, “Now just wait, very far away, and let me find it for you.”

“Thank you.” You call out behind him but he doesn’t respond.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it 'Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it will never be

“Here you go, in perfect condition.” He says as he drops the necklace into your hands and runs a hand through his hair. He looks gorgeous and you look down to avoid getting lost in his eyes.

“Your suit is wet.” You mumble with a sniff and he chuckles, the sound makes your heart race.

“We have magic, I’ll dry up.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finally look up at him and he smiles, that same hypnotic smile. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

“It’s just a necklace Y/N.” He smiles softly and you shake your head as tears begin to stream down your face again.

“No, it’s not just a necklace.” You sniff, “It’s you and I. It’s all that I have left of the love that we had, it’s all that I have left of the life we were going to build together.”

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice makes you swallow hard, but you pull your hand up to indicate that you’re not done.

“Let me talk, please.” He nods and you continue, “This little gem is all the words that we never had the chance to say. It’s the nights we would’ve spent climbing into bed together, in our little house that’s tucked safely into a small town. It’s the cups of coffee I was going to make you when you woke up in the mornings, and the cups of tea you would’ve made me when we went to sleep. This little gem is the only thing I have to remind me that our love was real.”

“It also doesn’t hurt that it costs a fortune huh?” He asks with a grin, despite the fact that there’s sadness in his eyes, and you nod with a choked out laugh.

“Definitely a bonus.” You say as you laugh a little more and wipe away a few tears.

Draco pulls the necklace out of your hands and opens it to put it around your neck once again, and you turn around so he can put it on. “Look, Y/N, life is too short to fill up with ridiculous mistakes. You left me, like I never mattered to you, and it broke me.”

You turn back around quickly, “That wasn-“

He twists you back around abruptly, “Let me talk now.” You nod and he continues to hook the chain around your neck. “It took me months to decipher what you meant when you said that I had too much love for the spotlight, that I didn’t have the capacity to let it go. It took me months to finally grasp what you meant when you said that people fall at my feet, that my contrarian demeanor is a crowd-puller. And the recognition hurt, a lot, because I realised that you we right about most of it.”

You feel his fingers leave your neck as he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, “What was I wrong about?”

He pulls you back to face him and smiles as he looks down at you, “The only thing you were wrong about was my unwillingness to let it go.” He pulls you into his arms for a hug, and you sigh in his arms.

“You can’t just leave this life Draco, we both know it isn’t that simple.” You muffle into his chest and the vibrations of his chuckles make you smile.

“That’s where you’re wrong angel, I can just leave this life. You never gave me the option but,” You pull apart and he smiles so wide that you think his face might come apart, “I would give it all up, for you.”

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

His eyes are shining as they look down at you with adoration and commitment, and it takes all the strength you have left inside to not pull him back into your arms. He brings his fingers up to the sapphire and rubs his thumb along it.

“It’s not all you have Y/N.” He pulls your chin up so you look him in the eyes, “I’m still right here.”

~~~

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taglist: @dracoscene @dreaming-about-fanfictions @astoria-malfcy @gwlvr @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @dracomalfoyposts

~~~

hi lovies! guess who’s finally feeling good enough to write again! :) we’re going to ignore the fact that the FOOLWAG sequel is beating my ass though

I will not lie, I had a great time writing this, possibly one of my favourite requests by far. I was originally going to make the ending angsty but I figured @evermoreeve (thx sweetie<3) reminded me that we all deserve a happy ending now and then.

anyway, i love you all,

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Chapter Three

AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is tired. She’s tired of emotional terrorists and liars and classes with a teacher who cares more about keeping the peace than teaching. She’s also just plain tired. Taking a long swig of coffee, Marinette jumps slightly as someone flounces down next to her. Wearily glancing over, she frowns at the look on her best friend’s face. Her mind runs a million miles a minute as she searches for the reason for the look on his face. The conversation on the roof with Jason flashes in her mind and she frowns, realizing why he looks so sad.

“Adrien-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I know, Mari. I know he’s our best suspect but...it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He says, slouching so that he can lay his head on her shoulder. Marinette sighs in response

“You’re gonna get in trouble sitting back here, kitty.” She mumbles, trying not to laugh at the absolutely adorable pout on his face that forms once she’s done talking.

“It’s worth it. I hate sitting by Lila.” He grumbles, the sad look on his face breaking Marinette’s heart.

“I-Well, maybe Mme. Bustier won’t notice.” She offers with a small smile. The smile falls almost immediately as a loud gasp rings throughout the room.

“Mme. Bustier, isn’t Adrien’s seat in the front row? Has the seating chart changed again?” Lila asks, her voice wobbly with tears. “Do I- do I have to sit by myself?” She adds. Marinette groans and drops her head onto the desk.

“Adrien? Why don’t you come back to your seat. We’re going to start class soon.” Mme. Bustier calls out.

“Sorry, guess I spoke too soon.” Marinette mumbles from her spot against the table. Adrien groans, but drags his bag down to the front row, furrowing his eyebrows as Lila immediately attaches herself to his arm. Marinette rolls her eyes, trying her hardest to pay attention to the lecture when all she wants to do is sleep. Between Ladybug duties, commissions, and homework, Marinette was lucky to get more than a couple hours of sleep each night. Add in the fact that once she could go to sleep her brain wouldn’t shut off, and Marinette was ready to petition her parents for an IV drip for her coffee. Having been completely zoned out for the entire class, Marinette jumps when the telltale sound of an akuma alarm suddenly blares throughout the room. Pulling out her phone, Marinette curses under her breath. Another element based akuma. Quickly grabbing her bag, Marinette follows the rest of the class towards the akuma shelter, silently slipping away and into the bathroom. She wastes no time in transforming, instead swinging herself out the window and to the fight.

----

Glancing down at his computer, Jason frowns. Gabriel Agreste has a kid. A kid Damian’s age, who lives in Paris. If Gabriel Agreste really was Hawkmoth, he was doing it knowing that his kid could get caught in the crossfire. Damn shitty parents. Letting out a shaky breath, Jason tries to think about things that calm him. Breathe. Can’t get pissed off here. Can’t make it harder on those kids than it already is. Deciding enough is enough when it comes to research (especially since he didn’t give Replacement specifics, just told him to look into anything sketchy with Agreste), Jason walks over and glances out the hotel window. A sudden alarm blaring through the hotel makes him sigh in frustration. It was the same alarm from last time, when he watched Paris flood and hundreds of bodies float in the streets. Climbing out onto the fire escape, Jason hurries up to the roof, scanning the horizon in hopes of seeing the akuma.

“Shit.” He says, eyes widening at the sight of flames twenty feet high. Regretting letting Bruce convince him to leave the helmet in Gotham, Jason has no choice but to watch the akuma fight from afar. Even if the two heroes hadn’t recognized him, Jason was in Paris on “official” W.E. business. Being recognized as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son while fighting a supervillain? Probably not the best idea. He’d do more damage than help, and at least by staying away from the fight, he could help the kids later. And maybe track down the son of a bitch who decided focusing the majority of his attacks on a school was a good idea.

----

Jason grit his teeth as the lights flashed and ladybugs flew around, fixing up the city. This battle took almost three hours, and the smell of burning flesh was lingering, despite all of the corpses being reanimated. Huffing, Jason climbs back off the roof, only thinking one thing. There was no way in hell he was leaving Paris until Hawkmoth was out of commission.

----

Landing softly on the rooftop, Marinette glances over at the strange man. Jason. The man who, for some reason, was willing to train them late at night on top of a roof, just so they could fight out of the suits. Not that he understood everything that the suits could do, but that was for the best. Even though his intentions seemed genuine, Marinette had learned not to trust easily anymore. Ever since Lila came, Marinette was wearier, and more likely to ask questions before accepting someone.

“Here’s your mask, if you wanna go ahead and change and start doing some basic stretches.” Jason instructs, getting right down to business as he passes the black domino mask to her. Marinette nods and flits behind the chimney.

“Spots off.” She says quietly, grinning at Tikki.

“Is this really a good idea?” Tikki asks, her face scrunched up with worry. Marinette sighs at her friend.

“He’s gonna help us find Hawkmoth. And he has a point. What happens if I can’t transform but someone still needs my help? I don’t want to be helpless, Tikki.” Marinette says.

“Just be careful, you don’t have the suit to stop you from being too injured.” Tikki warns before flying to the top of the chimney. Marinette hesitates a second before sliding the domino mask on, blinking to get used to the eye cover. It was...weird, having a mask on that wasn’t magic. With the mask that came with her suit, Marinette couldn’t feel it. It was just there, part of her. The domino mask, though, was solid. She could feel it resting on her face. Taking a breath to steady herself, Marinette walked out from behind the chimney.

“Chat Noir’s changing over there.” Jason says when he notices her, nodding towards an air duct on the opposite side of the roof.

“Thank you, for offering to help us.” Marinette says, Jason nods, a tense smile on his face.

“No problem.” He says.

“Did you happen to look into Gabriel Agreste today?” She asks.

“Yeah, what kind of asshole decides to be an emotional terrorist in a city where his kid lives?” Jason asks, a dark look crossing his face. Marinette flinches, looking at Jason nervously. If he had the means to train them, she really didn’t want to deal with him as an akuma.

“Gabriel Agreste, apparently.” Adrien says, finally joining the two, his arms crossed. Marinette frowns at him. It was much harder to read his face with his eyes hidden.

“So did you guys want me to look more into Agreste?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks between the two. Marinette glances at Adrien, letting out a small breath when she sees his small nod.

“Yeah. Even if it’s not Gabriel, we need to know for sure.” She says. Jason nods.

“Alright. That gives me something to do tomorrow. Now, stretch and warm up. I don’t wanna have to drag your asses off this roof ‘cause you pulled something trying to jump right into things.” Jason says, a teasing grin on his face. Marinette grins back, finally feeling lighter. Maybe training would be a good thing.

----

Training was hell. Okay, maybe not hell, but it was not easy. Gasping for air, Marinette dramatically collapses on the roof.

“Aw come on Pixie, you can do better than that.” Jason teases, still standing in a sparring stance.

“Jay, I swear. We’ve been training for over a week. I’m exhausted. And you’ve already kicked my ass twice. I’m giving up.” She says, throwing her arm over her face to block out the lights from the surrounding street lamps.

“Come on Bug, don’t give up!” Adrien cheers from the side, a smirk on his face. Marinette sits up and narrows her eyes at him, despite knowing the mask wouldn’t let him see her eyes. And the level of done that was visible there.

“Why don’t you try again?” She asks in a taunting tone. Adrien snorts.

“You and I both know that I can’t beat Jason.” He says, shaking his head in amusement.

“Not with that attitude. Come on kid, let’s go.” Jason says, turning to face Adrien instead of Marinette. An idea flashes into Marinette’s head and she smirks, lunging forward and yanking Jason down as his attention is completely on Adrien. Grabbing his wrists as he falls, Marinette manages to twist him around so that his face is against the rooftop and his arms are bent behind him.

“Okay, okay, I tap out.” Jason chuckles, accepting Marinette’s hand when she jumps up and reaches out to help him up.

“I won.” She says with a wide grin.

“You totally cheated.” Jason replies with a snort.

“Nah, Kitty and I just worked together to outsmart you.” Mari says.

“Don’t drag me into this, I had no idea what was happening ‘til Jay was on the ground.” Adrien says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Traitor.” Marinette huffs, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“Hey, you guys are gonna have to go home soon.” Jason says, glancing down at his watch. Marinette frowns.

“What about the Plan?” She asks. “I thought we were gonna work on that tonight so that we have an actual plan to stop Hawkmoth instead of just letting him run around and terrorize people nonstop.”

“Pixie, it’s late. I promise we’ll start with planning tomorrow. But you guys need to go get some sleep. Chat told me you’re already living off of coffee alone. That’s not healthy.” Jason says. Marinette rolls her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Coffee is my life fuel and I will not apologize.” She says, making both Chat and Jason groan.

“You’re worse than my brother.” Jason says and Mari grins.

“I’m sure we’d get along swimmingly.” She says, and Chat shakes his head.

“Nope. I draw the line at your coffee addicted butt meeting another coffee addict. I’m not about to watch that train wreck.” He says, grabbing Mari’s hand and tugging her behind the chimney so they can transform. Saying their phrases quickly, the two dart back over to Jason.

“Same time?” Marinette asks with a bright smile. Jason nods. Marinette waves, running over to the edge of the building and swinging away, waving at Adrien as he vaults towards his house. As she lands on her balcony, Marinette can't help the wide smile that stretches across her face. Maybe they could finally end this.

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #fanfic #ao3fic #maribat fic #platonic jasonette #platonic maribat adrienette #This Side of Normal

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 8

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy, jail

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N:

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!!

Also, if you are liking this series, consider checking out my new Lee Bodecker series, The Nanny. Part One

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy!

Also, even when this fic is over (it’s not yet don’t worry!), I want to continue writing for Lee and this reader, so send me ideas of what you would want to see! Smut, fluff, I just wanna hear ideas you think would match this story! Like moments of them living together, dreams, or even ideas for one shots of Arvin x Reader when they were dating if you want more from that aspect of the story... anything else you want to see with this story that will be like one shots that are part of this same universe.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven

That’s the funny thing about time. More often than not it’s the one to dictate you and not the other way around. Rationalizations regarding time hardly ever work out in your favor.

Oh, I just need more time for this, and then everything will work out.

Just need to make it through this week and then next week will be better.

If I had had more time, I could’ve gotten everything done.

How often did those actually ever work out? Time, especially in this town, was never an ally. It worked against you, spreading and infecting as fast as a forest fire. Time let rumors spread and time allows for circumstances beyond your control to unfold. It’s the catalyst that expertly pulls people apart and sometimes if you’re lucky, back together.

Perhaps, two years ago, you would have thought you would have been one of the lucky ones. One of the select few that time actually heals, but you had since given up on that notion. Lee was gone, ripped from you as quickly as he had swooped in. Your job was ripped from you as well, leaving you incapable of supporting yourself. And now you had Tommy back as well you needed to worry about. That was the one positive in the whole mess Lee left you to clean up alone.

The events like a domino effect just tore things done one by one. Now the room is cleaned out and his things are tucked away in boxes in your garage just like his car. It was the only physical evidence that had proved it all had actually been real.

You didn’t even want to try to visit him at first. You were hurt, and felt used. He had kept so much from you, especially your job. His lies had been so effortless. It bothered you immensely. He let you believe you had been able to land it by yourself. Maybe you could have. But now you’ll never know. What employer is going to hire you now?

Tommy got a job fairly quickly and you found a job outside of town, away from the people who knew your name or Lee’s. The article published that revealed Lee had gotten you the job was evidence enough for the town that all the rumors and gossip that they spread with no forethought were actually true. You had slept with him for the job, of course. Some people pinned the blame on him and some on you.

It took you six months of him being gone before you would even go in his room. Anything of yours that had secured a permanent spot there you just went without. But you needed the money, and Tommy had the good idea to get another tenant. He helped you box everything up and move it all down to the corner of the garage, making it all out of sight out of mind.

You had managed to sneak several of his shirts into the bottom drawer of your dresser. You were impressed with how much of a front of indifference you were able to put up. You had made it like an assembly line, and you ignored the tug at your heart at how it reminded you of when he first moved in. Keeping busy kept your thoughts at bay. However, nothing prepared you to what you found in the drawer of his nightstand.

You had just wanted to get the work done fast, removing the whole drawer and dumped the contents into a cardboard box. It was mostly junk, but then a black velvety box had caught your eye. It stood out from everything else. You hadn’t been nosy, and up until this point, you hadn’t given much thought to any of the items you had been packing away. It was a necessity to keep you sane. But like Pandora’s box, you really just couldn’t control the urge to open it. You reasoned it was probably cufflinks or something for special occasions he just never wore. But the temptation was just too much and you sat down on the floor and fished it out of the half-filled box. You opened it and you immediately burst into tears. Not once had you cried since he had been gone. You hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to, not when there were so many things that needed to be done.

It looked brand new, a gold band with a perfectly round diamond sat perched in the box that he had hidden away in the junk drawer he assumed you’d never have a reason to go through. You distinctly remember Janie’s ring had been white gold, and you remember Lee had told you she kept her ring. He said he didn’t want it back anyways; he had said over coffee one morning. Nope, this was yours and the receipt you found in the cardboard box confirmed it when you saw the date printed on the top. He had gotten it a month before your whole world went to shit.

For the next two weeks, you had kept it stashed away, hidden under the t-shirts you selfishly kept out as well. The weeks really started to blend together, just going through the motions and not really feeling like you were living. You were on autopilot. And before you had realized it, it was coming up on a year. Time had moved somehow simultaneously slow that year and also fast enough for you to lose track. You hadn’t moved on. You were just ignoring it, not wanting to acknowledge the hurt that was still behind your eyes, still as apparent since the day he was carted away.

One night, you don’t know what switch in your mind flipped, but you started crying in the shower and then couldn’t stop until you had cried yourself to sleep. You had just exhausted yourself and the cycle continued night after night as soon as you stepped in the door after work. You were lying on your bed, still in your clothes that you had worn to work even though it was way past midnight. You turned your head and just stared at the bottom drawer of the dresser, your eyes straining from the tears and also from the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, it would make you feel better. You got up, walked over to the dresser and sat crisscross in front of it. It was probably the first conscience decision you had made in weeks. Somehow it made you feel more alive.

Stripping down to just your underwear, and leaving the work clothes haphazardly in piles on the floor, you grabbed one of the t-shirts and pulled it over your head. Just the smell of him cleared your head. The way it was able to just aid your headache was almost instantaneous. It smelled like him. It grounded you, and had the opposite effect you thought it would have. You skeptically believed you were torturing yourself, and grabbing one of his shirts would make you feel worse. For the first time in a while, you felt comforted and finding a candy wrapper in the front pocket just made you smile.

You then pulled out the ring and looked at it, taking it out of the box for the first time. You slipped it onto your left ring finger. It was a little loose, but Lee didn’t do awful guessing your ring size. You didn’t care, you thought it fit perfectly. It was understated and stunning and you had never seen a nicer ring. It was simple, very unlike what your relationship had been. Actually, that wasn’t true, you realized. It was very easy falling in love with Lee, and when it was the two of you, it was perfect. It was the world and circumstances outside of your control that made it complicated. You also realize you had forgiven a while ago, but you had been too stubborn to admit it.

Fuck it. Fuck everything that you let overpower you for so long. What? The old ladies at Church call you a slut? Let them. The amount of weight that words hold over everyone here is so toxic. No one in this town was a saint. The whole town is held hostage by their own twisted dark secrets and the way people get by is just exposing the secrets of others. No one was moral. You hadn’t done anything wrong. What was your crime? You did nothing. Lee was as guilty as sin, but what made them better? What gives anyone the right to decide for themselves his motives, and ignore the good in him to villainize him?

It was early Saturday morning. Getting up from your spot, somehow feeling lighter on your feet, you see its after two in the morning. You settle back into your bed, and the revelation allows you to have the most restful sleep you can ever remember having. You woke up feeling refreshed, and feeling alive. Your head was clear. You still didn’t look good. Your undereye bags were dark and heavy. It would take more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep to remedy those. The pain behind your eyes was still there, but the motive had changed. It was a longing, and a missing of him that weighed heavy on your head.

You wake up shortly after seven and your body doesn’t allow you to sleep in despite your attempts. You get ready for the day, changing into a pair of your fitted jeans that were cuffed, a pair of your Keds and one of your white t-shirts. You grabbed your purse, and made your way downstairs. Tommy had already left for work early and he doesn’t like to wake you. It was probably better, because had he been there, he would probably talk you out of what you were going to do.

The bus was pretty crowded, always was on Saturday morning. You hadn’t realized how close he was to you this whole time until you realized you had been on the bus for less than twenty minutes. This whole time, he had felt so far away, almost like he was erased, even though he was just in the next town. You arrived just as visiting hours had begun. You weren’t even sure you’d be allowed to see him, or if he’d want to see you. You hadn’t come before, and you wouldn’t blame him if he refused to see you. Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d say. You didn’t think about it once. You just wanted to see him.

The guard at the front desk took all your information and got you situated and then you just had to wait. It was probably less than fifteen minutes you had to sit there but it felt like forever. It was that familiar feeling of time messing with you again. Finally, the same guard returned and led you down a really bleak hallway, until you reached a room with a long table, with seats and dividers, and phone receivers. The seats situated across from each other separated by think glass. You gulped, you’d only ever seen rooms like this in the movies, and you shuddered facing where Lee had been stuck for so long. You weren’t the only one there, and other prisoners in beige scrubs were seated behind the glass talking over the receivers with their loved ones.

You took the seat the guard motioned to, and you thanked him. You were trying your best to not shake or show how nervous you were to see him again. You were scared he would hate you for not coming sooner, or he’d say he didn’t want to see you again. You couldn’t blame him. It has been a year. Yet, your heart leaps and betrays you when he walks in and any brave front you had is gone. He looks more tired than you, and his hair is slightly shorter than when you last saw him. But overall, it’s still Lee and goddamn, what you wouldn’t give to break the glass. The silence is deafening when he doesn’t even look up at you when he grabs the receiver. Does he not even want to look at you? He sat down without even looking up from his feet. He looks so defeated.

“Lee?” you ask softly into the receiver; you aren’t even sure if it picked up the sound. Apparently, it had because his eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. His eyes were wide and looked vulnerable as he scanned your face, like he was trying to keep from blinking.

“Oh sweetheart,” he gasps, “I’m so sorry. Everything- all of it. It was all my fault.” He also looks close to tears.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” you say, unable to pull your eyes from his.

“I didn’t expect you to even want to see me, darling,” he admits.

“You left an awful mess I had to clean up first,” you joke, making him chuckle halfheartedly.

“You deserve so much better,” he said sadly, “Settle down with someone your age, with a nice job or something- get out away from this place.”

“Christ, Lee, if I wanted that do you think I’d be here?” you joke. He smiles.

Four months ago, Arvin offered to drive you home from Church. Even with your brother being back, you still ended up going by yourself most Sundays. You weren’t even sure why you still showed up. It was an hour of being stuck in a room with a ton of people where you didn’t even have one ally. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. You had Lenora, who’s sympathetic smiles from across the aisle let you know her silent solidarity, and you had Arvin, who wasn’t one to care what others thought much anyways.

Leaving Church now since the news was finally printed, no one tried to talk to you afterwards except for Arvin and his family. His grandmother was still as sweet as always, but you could see how much she pitied you. Arvin was always friendly still, and he had been so helpful with everything.

“I don’t even care if it was true you know,” he said suddenly, pulling your attention from the open window on the passenger side.

“If what was true?” you ask looking back to him.

“You know, how everyone is talking,” he says in a hushed tone, not wanting to actually say it.

“That I slept with the Sheriff to get the job?” You finish his sentence for him.

“Yeah, I- It doesn’t change anything,” he says, “You’re still you and I don’t care. We’re all human.”

“It’s not true,” you confirm, crossing your arms, and then looking back out at the passing landscape.

“Look (Y/N),” Arvin continued, “I’m sorry about what happened. I feel awful. I want to do anything I can to help you.”

“You’re always such a good friend to me,” you smile, “You shouldn’t be putting yourself out too much for my sake.”

“I want to,” he insists with a smile, “We got a history, you and me.”

“Yeah,” you say with a content sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” he admits nervously. He pulls in front of your house, and as usual he runs over quickly to get the door for you. “And just that we aren’t kids anymore,” he continues, and you nod. You dig for your keys as he talks.

“I got a job, pays pretty good,” he continues on, “You got a good job, and this old house. I know you better than anyone. I know it isn’t that romantic, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’d love to marry you, if you’d have me.”

“A-Arvin, are you serious?” you ask, your heading whipping up at the sudden proposal you hadn’t anticipated.

“Tell me it wouldn’t make sense,” he laughs softly with a shrug, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Arvin, I don’t want to just marry someone for the practicality of it,” you sigh.

“It’s you and me,” he continues, holding your shoulders gently and his eyes are latched onto yours. “I know I made a horrible mistake, but I have been trying so hard to make it up to you. You’re the only girl I ever loved- I never stopped. I loved you when we were eighteen, I love you know that we’re twenty-two and I swear if you let me, I can love you for the rest of my life.”

“Arvin…”

“It’s always been us, hasn’t it?” he asks rhetorically, “There’s never been anyone else…”

“I’m in love with Lee,” you say hurriedly, cutting him off before he continued.

“You what?”

“I’m in love with Lee,” you say again, slower and much more purposeful. You watch his whole expression fall, and it breaks your heart to hurt him.

“You’re in love with Sheriff Bodecker?” He asks, “That fucking deadbeat?”

“He’s not,” you insist, “You don’t know him…”

“You don’t either, (Y/N),” he cuts you off. “He’s no good and crooked. He manipulated you, took advantage…”

“No, he didn’t,” you affirm.

“(Y/N), he’s a liar, and he’s good at it,” he continues, “You don’t think he just up and told you anything he thought you’d want to hear to just get what he wanted…”

“You’re wrong!”

“He’s an alcoholic, no good drunk who took advantage of you with your mama gone…”

“Shut up!”

“He was using you!”

“You’re wrong, Arvin! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs, “Let’s say you’re right. So, you’re gonna wait for him? Wait out the five years until you’re twenty-six? And then after you wait for him to get out, how do you know he wants you? Then what are you going to do? I know right now you hate me, but God, (Y/N), I’m a good guy who only wants to put your happiness first… I’ve always put you first. I love you and I’m not going to make you play a ton of games or keep things a secret. I’ll run around this whole town right now screaming how much I love you at the top of my lungs so the whole town knows.”

“I don’t love you.”

Lee still can’t believe you’re finally here in front of him. He thought about this moment for so long. He had even tried to prepare himself to brace the possibility that you might never want anything to do with him ever again. His dreams would plague him with thoughts of you. Sometimes they were happy, and he’d be woken up with the horrible realization that they hadn’t been true, and others were worse. He’d dream about getting out, and seeing you with someone else. Married, and happy, and he wasn’t the one you settled down with. Sometimes, he wouldn’t actually see you with someone else, it was always just implied, or he’d see you with Arvin.

Most nights he’d jolt awake and be covered in sweat, and he would still be cursed by the images that flashed before him in his dreams. He just thinks about all the things he wished he could change and how much he’s hurt you. He just thinks about all the things he would say if he ever got to see you, or what he would do to try to win you back. Then, other nights, he’d be much more self-deprecating and he’d internally fight with himself about how you don’t want him anymore, and you’d realize he was never what you wanted.

Now, he can’t believe you’re here across the glass. He could see the pain and exhaustion behind your eyes and he hates that he is the cause of it. He can’t stop looking at you, and part of him thinks he’s actually back in his room, having another dream about you that he will wake up from and find himself alone again. His eyes scan your face and just wants to take in every part of you, it had been so long. Then his eyes land on a shimmer of something on your hand and he might just die in his seat.

“You found it?” he whispers, looking at the ring on your finger. You look puzzled and then you follow his gaze down to your hand. You had forgotten you hadn’t taken it off.

“Um, yeah,” you admit shyly, looking down at it, “I assumed it was mine.”

“It is,” he smiles, pressing his fingertips gently to the glass briefly. “If you really want it.”

“It’d be a shame for it to just sit in the box,” you shrug. Neither one of you say anything for a moment, neither one of you not knowing what to say to fill the silence.

“I’m going to wait for you,” you declare, aimlessly playing with the ring on your finger.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He can’t let himself get too hopeful. Not yet.

“I’ve never been surer of anything, Lee,” you affirm.

“I will make it up to you.”

“Yes, you will,” you joke, making him laugh.

“I love you,” he sighs relieved, like the weight of everything that has held him down this past year just vanished. You wanted him, and he wouldn’t lose you.

“I love you too.”

PART NINE

Taglist:

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

#creepypasta fanfic #proxies x reader #proxies #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #hoodie x reader #ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #masky #hoodie #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #brian thomas #reader insert #reader #readerinsert

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Canary, Part 4

First

Okay. Fine. She’ll stop stalling.

She grabbed everything she’d need: water, snacks, her phone, Tikki, headphones, and a cheat sheet she’d written for herself… and then sat herself down on the floor, laptop in her lap.

Truly interesting stuff.

But it was about to get even more boring for her. She needed to do some hacking.

There’s three main ways to get information.

Most people master one and then team up with others. It was why a lot of groups in books are groups of three (or five, if you want to add a distinct brain and brawn).

Marinette didn’t do partners.

So, she had to do it all herself.

Grifting is the kind of thing people expect from conmen. Straight manipulation. This was her specialty. She’d learn about her marks, devise a plan, and get close enough to them to get whatever she needed -- blackmail, talking someone into something, talking someone out of something, checking to see if someone was cheating… that was what she was good at. Sometimes, when it was late at night and she was all alone, she felt bad about it. Most of the time she decided that it was their fault for letting her get that close to them -- Gothamites should know by now to be wary of short Asian women.

Thievery is almost what it sounds like. She often did straight up steal objects, from money to keycards to prototypes to files out of desks… but it also meant stealing information. She’d hide herself in vents or carve out a place in the walls and listen in on conversations. She wasn’t bad at it, but people were actually growing wise to this one. She found that many of the vents she wanted to use had cameras or motion detectors of some sort. But, a few jobs ago, she’d been given an EMP pulse gun as payment so that wasn’t as much of a problem anymore.

Hacking was… well, hacking. She… wasn’t too good at it. She’d never seen the point. Red Robin and Oracle were so good that anything she’d do would never hold up. So, she’d left that skill alone. All she ever needed was to know how to make semi-decent false identities, anyways.

… but now she needed an identity that would fool even them. Which meant that it was best to use one that actually existed.

She bit her lip and turned on the first Harry Potter book as audio while she booted up her computer.

Alright, so… she needed a paper trail that would keep her in Paris for the past nine years. The camera footage of cities often didn’t keep for that long, so she only needed to have a few clips of her heading to and being in the airport.

She pulled up Gotham security cameras. She grabbed footage from the subway specifically, it had the most things she needed: leaning against walls while she waited for things, scanning tickets, setting things in bins while they checked her over for bombs…

Okay... all she needed now was to change the face on the footage to make sure that their facial recognition systems picked up that it was her. She moved over to her greenscreen and got footage of her face as she continued working.

Next, she needed to -- um? -- PAPERS. She needed to forge papers.

Well, she could claim that she had been working under her parents in exchange for food and rent… which meant dentist and doctor appointments were really all she needed.

She found older papers and used that to forge her doctor’s handwriting. She had no clue what medicines she was supposed to be taking but that’s fine. The stuff doctors prescribed were pretty much just suggestions in her eyes, anyways.

Was that all?

… she was pretty sure she was done.

She took the footage from her camera and superimposed it on the makeup-covered face she used for Gotham pixel by pixel.

By the time she had finished her audiobook had long-since ended and she had gotten pretty far into the second book. She liked the second book more than the first so far. Maybe it’s because Rowling hadn’t given away the ending in a dream sequence like she did in the first one.

She forced herself to sit up. Her bones creaked. How long had…?

Eleven hours. She’d been sitting there for eleven hours with only tiny breaks to go to the bathroom. No wonder she felt so awful.

She rubbed her eyes and walked over to the window. It was getting early. Dim light filtered through the one-way window and she looked out over the city. She had set up base on the thirteenth floor of a building. Gotham had a weird superstition about thirteenth floors -- if they had to make a building any higher than that, they would put a ‘fake floor’ in to trick… the gods? The bad luck? Something. Whatever the reason, it was good for her. It was safer than any of her other safehouses. Even if someone knew that someone lived there they would steer clear, assuming it belonged to The Court.

So, she was safe. She trudged to her fridge and listened to the audiobook speaker talk about how someone else had gotten petrified -- the name had already slipped away from her, all the names in these books were so fucking weird -- as she picked out an energy drink. She cracked it open and then took tiny sips from it as her brain tried and failed to wake up some.

She felt a tiny paw rub her head and blinked a few times to get her out of The Long Stare that she had been doing for the past… yikes, twenty minutes.

She shook her head a few times to wake herself up and then sent Tikki a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re overworking yourself.”

“I’ll only be doing this for a year,” she said. “Then, no matter what, it’s over.”

“... see, that -- that doesn’t exactly encourage me…”

Marinette giggled and pressed a kiss to the kwami’s way-too-big head. “I’ll sleep later.”

The kwami didn’t believe her.

Fair enough. She was lying.

But it wasn’t like Tikki could really stop her so… she started gathering things into a backpack. A few pairs of nondescript clothes, snacks, a bit of cash -- she’d come back for more later -- and looked around.

She couldn’t take any of her favorite knives, unfortunately, she’d have to settle for a plain old dagger and leave everything else behind. She’d kiss them goodbye but most of them were laced with either paralytics or straight up poison so that would have been a Bad Idea.

… she was missing something...

Ah. She swapped out her work phone for a burner, added a black case, and then added a phone charm. It was a tiny Robin, it would add to her credibility.

Yeah. That was probably it.

Then, she fell out of the thirteenth-story window.

(It’s fine. She lived. Obviously.)

She headed to the nearest hotel. It was a front for the mob but, really, was there any places that weren’t? She checked in, dropped her things off, and started out the door.

Where to first? It was getting time for most of the bats to stop patrolling but she supposed she could follow after Signal first.

… well, this sucked.

Messing up while jumping from building to building, even on purpose, was so embarrassing. She was Canary for fuck’s sake, she didn’t mess up.

But it would be kind of weird if she was too good so… she allowed herself to yelp, to fall, to curse, to scrape her knees...

God, this entire job was just so embarrassing. She was getting blackmailed by Penguin, she’d had to ask her ‘parents’ for money, and now she was falling all over the place. This was stupid. Someone kill her, please. (Or, at least, make this job end quickly.)

But this was necessary. She’d be stupid not to follow them around. They could slip up, either by saying their real names on accident or by getting hurt enough for her to sneak down and take off their masks.

(She had no delusions that they were famous, of course. They’d be stupid to be public figures. Still, a face or a name was better than nothing.)

So, she followed them. Three days went by without any of them acknowledging her existence.

Right now, she was following after Red Robin. She could tell he knew she was there, he was going slightly slower than normal, and she appreciated it -- or… fake her appreciated it? She didn’t know. This was all so weird.

Want to know what else was weird? Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was the first one that she’d truly enjoyed as more than something to pass time with. She liked Cedric. All these death flags better be red herrings. She could -- and would -- cry if he died.

That would be embarrassing… which was kind of par for the course right now. She hated that she had thought that. She’d definitely jinxed it.

She stopped a few buildings down from where Red Robin was getting coffee and then smiled as he continued on the ground. Thank god. Rooftops suck.

She bit her lip nervously as she listened to Harry talk about how he was doing in the maze. The distinct lack of Cedric was worrying her.

She was so distracted that, when she followed Red Robin into an alley, it took her a few seconds to realize that he had disappeared. She stood in the middle of the alley, the hair on the back of her neck prickling as she looked up at the dead end she had been led to.

There was a crunch of gravel behind her and she allowed herself to flinch.

She turned around with a weak smile. Red Robin returned it, but the lenses of his domino were narrowed like they usually were when he was annoyed about something.

This was an expression that Canary was used to. But he shouldn’t have known she was Canary. So...

Shit.

~~~

TheBetterCanary: tim drake 🤝 red robin

throwing coffee cups in random trash cans so their families don't know how much they’re drinking

Yummmmmm: Snitch

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram

#few things have broken me in the way that learning i have extra teeth has #like i legitimately cried #apparently i have just four extra teeth and that's why i bite my cheek a lot #it fucking hurts i dont want them #at least its not anxiety thing??#canary #maribat #timinette #timari #timmari #shutterbug #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #red robin #tim drake

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iphoenixrising · 3 years

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The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal.

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.”

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference.

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger. That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–”

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.” And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit.

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends.

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him.

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes.

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

#dicktimweek2021 #winter writes #dicktim #back on my shit #dick grayson #tim drake #my ficlet #my writing

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