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sexysilverstrider · 1 month

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SGAO | Unrequited Destiny 4

It’s cold.

A lone child sat quietly in the abyss. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. A still statue was what he was. Though immobile, eyes remained widen at nothing. Slitted pupils squeezed to a single line. The colour in his iris grew dimmer. Dimmer. A mouth stayed shut. Zipped. Pale and pressed despite the cold wind that sliced through its cracks. Legs stretched forward; skin pierced by cold air that grazed through his body.

Hands cupped his face. Unmoving. Still.

Fingers parted to reveal a stunned gaze. He stared down. Down at the abysmal floor.

Chills ran down his skin. His bones. The cold breeze poked and prodded, drilling into his motionless body.

Snip. Snip.

The wind cut his skin. A single line scraped through his chest.

Snip…skriit…

The line tore open. Slowly. Perfectly.

The lone boy sat there. Unmoving. Aghast. It stung as the cold breeze cut through him, ripping his skin apart to reveal nothing within. Yet he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. Only a deathly gaze was given.

His chest was opened. Bare.

He felt colder.

Why wouldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he move? Did he not want to close his chest? Did he not want to move to a much warmer embrace?

Why?

Why? Why? Why?

That single word clogged his mind.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why—

“Kieran!”

A single breath was finally taken.

Shrunken pupils dilated. Pale lips parted, panting and gasping thick air. Eyes, dry and blank, looked up. Looked at the sound that finally enabled a response from him.

A blurry, black figure stood before him.

It had no proper shape. It had no actual figure. Amidst the darkness that enveloped him, all that could ever be perceived was a blur of lines that formed almost a humanlike appearance.

But he knew. He knew.

The top part of the shadow tilted. It remained still, watching the poor boy who now sat in complete awe.

Silence lingered around them. The cold breeze still whistled, lulling its eulogy straight into the boy’s ears. Into the boy’s chest.

But he didn’t feel pain. He couldn’t.

How could he when he felt something far, far more excruciating?

Something formed on the top, front part of the figure. Slowly. Eerily. A long line parted, gaping across the abysmal figure to form some sort of shape. Sharp edges cracked at the corners. It grew longer and longer, reaching far back around its top part.

A silent gasp of awe tickled his dry throat.

A smile. A smile shined upon him.

It was for him. It was meant for him.

The blurry, black figure reached towards him. It held no shape. It only stretched and thickened. The smile it portrayed was crooked, gaping to reveal utter darkness that rivalled what was from its outside. Its jaw lowered and lowered, elongated until it hanged just a few inches apart.

Yet, it was perfect.

The smile was perfect, beaming and shining for him.

More and more, the lone child moved.

First, another breath. Then, another blink.

Finally, a hold of its crooked claw.

It’s warm.

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A silent gasp escaped him as he woke up.

Though head remained on the pillow, his blanket was subconsciously thrown to the side. Yellow eyes blinked rapidly, first in stupor, then in a daze. Vision blurred momentarily, the single lamp on the ceiling split into two until it finally sharpened to a single sight.

His breathing evened out carefully. His heart raced in his chest, thump, thump, thumping away until it rang in his ears. Though not startling enough to jolt him off his futon, he was still stunned at the memories of his nightmare.

Nightmare?

Was it a nightmare, he wondered, if he had no fear whatsoever at what he just remembered back?

Was it a nightmare, he pondered, if his heart yearned for the sight of the smile again?

The gears in his brain rolled and moved, rearranging his thoughts to the dream that happened last night. When was the last time he ever dreamt such a dream? In all his years of living, he either slept with a mind full of nothing or a head full of ogre. Even with the stress of school now welcoming itself into his life, Kieran felt thankful that it didn’t traumatize him enough to haunt his slumber. Hell, he wasn’t the type of be awakened so suddenly.

He always sought sleeping as the perfect means of escape.

Scared? Sleep. Stressed out? Sleep. Annoyed at his sister? Sleep.

Despite what it sounds like, he had a good sleeping schedule, actually. Combined with some short naps with his Furret every now and then, Kieran felt that he was healthy enough to not let his mind play tricks on him.

But now. Now…

What…was that?

Truly, it was a question that haunted him for the entire morning.

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After a hearty breakfast and handling an even heartier team of Pokémon, Aoi was pretty impressed at herself for being on time for the orientation.

The session was simple and straight to the point. Gathering together—both Blueberry and Naranja students—they listened to the community staff and Ms Blair’s instructions. Arms crossed against her chest, Aoi lightly swayed her head as they gave the excursion’s activities. All her Pokémon were tucked inside their Pokéballs, either continuing their sleep or listening in as well in plain curiosity.

Apparently, during the duration of their program, each student needed to be in pairs and they were to travel around Kitakami to find out three signboards that were located in the land. They needed to write down notes and learned about the history. As it was an outdoor activity, students were encouraged to ask around and talk to the residents to learn more. Most natives knew about the lore, but not everyone would have the exact same opinion, so it would be best to interview the people about and learn what they could from a variety of source materials.

Seems fun enough.

A small smile tickled the corner of her lips at the excitement. While she herself had gone through what any normal student shouldn’t have faced, Aoi was pretty stoked to finally get some normal after-school credits for once.

Normal, she said, as the last after-school ‘credit’ she got was from Professor Clavell for saving the world from the threat of the next Jurassic period.

Shaking her head lightly to remove the thought, Aoi observed the other students. Her own schoolmates were just as excited as her, eyes sparkling and mouths wowing at every explanation. Although Arven, Nemona, and Penny weren’t selected for the program, she was still happy to know that some familiar faces were still here, albeit she rarely talked to any of them back at school.

Oh well, she thought, at least it would give her a chance to make more friends.

Speaking of friends… Black eyes darted to the Blueberry pair standing a few steps away. The taller girl—Carmine, she remembered—looked bored during the orientation. Maybe this wasn’t her first time? Maybe the activities involved getting to know Kitakami was quite banal to her as a fellow native here? Either way, Aoi watched as Carmine found her nails far more interesting than whatever importance the adults were explaining.

Eyes then moved to the boy next to Carmine.

Kieran.

The name resonated in her brain, itching her smile to widen.

Compared to his sister, he looked attentive but nervous. His hands cupped together in front, then released before placing both back together with a quiet clap. Tap, tap, tap, his hands moved against one another. His back slouched, just for a mere moment, and then straightened back as if someone had called his name out of the blue. Black and purple hair once again covered parts of his face, disabling Aoi from properly getting a good look at him.

It seems that her silent wish was granted, for Kieran then looked to the right.

A pair of yellow eyes widened at the sight of surprised black irises.

Immediately, he snapped his head forward. His back straightened again, though this time looking more like a scolded soldier. Hands that were tapping together now gripped the strap of his satchel, bringing it closer to his rapidly beating heart.

She was looking at him.

Oh God. Oh Arceus.

Memories of his dream once again lingered in the back of his thoughts. Though the smile from his slumbering mind was…creepier than what she was giving, it still made his heart skip a beat or two. While he was focused on the orientation a few seconds ago, he now couldn’t get focus to side with him as all he was aware right now was the girl a few steps away.

Calm down… He needed to put a good impression for her. Calm down…! He needed to remind her that she wouldn’t regret knowing him.

Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

While Kieran was going through a whirlwind of feelings, Aoi only huffed a single giggle.

Black eyes twinkled in amusement. The corner of her mouth swirled just a bit longer.

Her heart felt warm. She didn’t think much of it.

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If there’s one thing Carmine was good at, it’s pissing people off.

“You’re Aoi or whatever, right?” The question came off as snarky, undeniably so. A smile graced her lips, though it was anything but sincere.

Aoi was surprised herself at the amount of patience she had.

“Yes,” she replied, smile a bit more honest than her. “And you’re Carmine.” Finger guns were playfully aimed at the taller girl. Deciding that making an enemy for a month was something she would not enjoy at all, Aoi made it her resolution to be as kind as possible. While Carmine may seem rude and harsh, she knew the Blueberry student was kind. Deep down.

“Good to know you’re smart enough to remember my name.”

Deep, deep down.

Fatigue easing Aoi’s cheeks from her smile, she plopped her arms to the side. God, how her brain felt tired already from dealing with her—and she was friends with Nemona.

No. She shouldn’t think that way. Many people loved Aoi because she was friendly and charming. Even without the intention to, she managed to win the hearts of many and prove to anyone that she was a delight to be around and a menace in battles. Even the notorious Team Star leaders were now her friends—despite Ortega being rude as he always was, but that’s just his way of being shy and truthful. Aoi saw the good in people, and that was an advice she kept to her heart the moment she heard it from her mother.

She would rather be forgotten than be hated.

So, a smile was back on her face, brighter and jollier. “So, since we need to pair up for this program, I was wondering,” Black eyes darted to Kieran, “if one of you want to be partners with me?” The same powerful gaze was given back to the curious girl.

To hear her request. To hear her question. It made the grip on the strap of his satchel tighter.

She wants to be pairs with one of us. One quick heartbeat. She…she wants…to…be… Another quick heartbeat. She…w-with me…

“Aw, how kind of you.”

The sound of his sister’s snarky tone brought him back to reality. Realizing that Carmine might mess this up, he immediately looked at her. “U-Uh…Sis…” Words escaped him, then died across his tongue. He wanted to speak up. He needed to speak up. All these years, Carmine had been doing the job of speaking for him. Due to his terrible insecurity ever since their parents’ deaths, Kieran had been latching to her as a form of comfort. While both he and Carmine found love from their grandparents, a part of him still craved something to provide him the strength he needed to stand on his own.

He never possessed that strength. Not yet. He may fear not ever.

So, he let Carmine do the talking for him. He let Carmine protect him when he was being bullied by a group of anyone. Seeing that his sister wished to continue her studies and become a Pokémon trainer, he let Carmine show him his future as he requested to do the same.

His sister was protective. Aloof. And oftentimes, harsh in her care for him. But he didn’t mind as he knew Carmine often do things in his best interest.

However, this wasn’t one of them.

“I…I don’t mind if she chooses one of us.” If she chooses me. “Besides, the program did say we need to pair up with whoever or else, we won’t get credits. So, uh…please…” Frustration bubbled within as he struggled to get the words out. Teeth gritted inside tight lips. Taking a deep breath, he looked at her sister again, only to be met with a single raised eyebrow.

Carmine only watched, quietly surprised at her brother’s bold actions. Not once had Kieran voiced out his desires so passionately. Usually, he would just go with the flow and follow in her shadow. At times, annoyance bit her in the neck to know that Kieran wouldn’t do much if it weren’t for her insistence. At times, sorrow soothed away the irritation as she remembered her brother’s behaviour was due to their parents’ absence.

She had to take on the role of taking care of him, after all. And even when their grandparents willingly took them in and raise them as their own, Carmine couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that she was responsible for Kieran’s upbringing.

She loved her brother, truly. But there were times where she wished he could stand up for himself.

Apparently, the time was now.

Memories of last night made her eyes glimmer. Oh, how could she forget her brother gushing and talking about the new girl during dinner? It would seem that they had bumped into each other after their little kerfuffle, and judging by Kieran’s rambunctious reactions, Aoi seemed to have treated him well.

“She said she wanted to know more about me!” Kieran’s excited statement was accompanied by a bright smile. “She said that she would love for me to show her around Kitakami!” Yellow eyes glimmered under the single ceiling light, sparkling like stars that were the audience of his joy.

As annoyed as she was last night about him not shutting up, she couldn’t deny the proud feeling she had over seeing Kieran looking so genuinely, sincerely happy.

So, her sisterly instincts kicked.

“Oh yeah,” she spoke, sharp yellow eyes back at the shorter girl, “so, my little brother had been googly-eyed over you since yesterday.”

A surprised blink from Aoi.

A shocked squeak from Kieran.

Much to the boy’s horror, his beloved sister continued, “He wouldn’t stop talking about you—even at home.” A dramatic sigh slipped out between a cheeky smirk. “I couldn’t seriously get him to shut up—”

“S-Sis!” That was enough. “What’re you tellin’ her that for, dummy!”

Well, that’s what she got for wanting to be a good big sister. “HEY!” The shout was louder than what any of them expected. Immediately, Carmine glared at him, gaze deadly enough to make the poor boy shrink. “Watch who you call ‘dummy’, if you know what’s good for you!” One fist was raised. Realizing that she might hit him on the head again, Kieran quickly took one step backwards.

He wanted to fight back. To stand up for himself.

Especially when the one person he wanted to impress was looking at him.

Alas, “Aw man…” A frail whimper dripped out of a shaky frown. Shame fueling him until breathing turned heavy, Kieran averted his gaze from both girls and turned around.

To see such a sight, Aoi felt bad.

“Come on now.” She didn’t have a sibling. Being an only child, Aoi had only gotten some petty fights or arguments with the domestic Pokémon near her household. And ever since she had gotten her starter Pokémon, the girl saw her Meowscarada as a playful pet/brother. While the bond between human and Pokémon were completely different than the bond between two humans, Aoi concluded that as long as you have care, love, and understanding, a connection could always be formed.

Eyes darted to the sulking boy. As much as she wanted to console him, she was at lost.

“Look at him, being all shy…”

Carmine’s statement brought doubt to her heart.

Unaware of—or either ignoring—Aoi’s concern, Carmine peeked at him. “You see, my brother’s no good at talking to people.” One thumb pointed at the still sulking boy next to her. “Usually, I’m the one who has to do all the talking for him. He gets squeaky and embarrassed when he wants something.”

A scream. A cry. Anything was about to pop out the more he heard her.

Casting a glance ay Kieran, Aoi forced her attention to Carmine momentarily. “Well, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” Arms lightly crossed against her chest. “Talking for him, I mean. You’re being a good sister, that I can tell.” Her head cocked up slightly to look at her. Her smile was rid of any malice or spite. “But I think it’s nice to see him being braver to talk for himself too.”

Head still turned away; he froze to hear Aoi’s reply.

“Well, look at you knowing my brother more!” Amusement tickled Carmine’s tone. If it weren’t for her compliment, she would’ve been ticked off again.

It seems that the new company was far amusing than she expected.

“She’s really, really nice!” Kieran’s words popped in her mind. It would seem that he wasn’t exaggerating.

In that case…

“Actually…” Yellow eyes glanced at her brother, “he’s probably never work up the nerve to ask you himself, but he’d really like a battle with you.” Her voice was quieter than a few seconds ago, though clear enough for Aoi to hear.

Surprise flickered behind a pair of faded sunglasses. “Oh… Oh!” Realization hit her quite quick. While Kieran may seem timid and nervous, none couldn’t deny that he was a full-fledged trainer as well. Quickly, she looked at him, whose back was seen slouching and sulking. It seems that Kieran hadn’t heard what Carmine said; he probably assumed that his sister was teasing him again.

The poor thing.

A sense of needing to please a person bubbled within. Aoi cast her gaze on Carmine again and nodded firmly. “Sure, I’d love to battle Kieran!”

Her voice was louder. Clearer than before.

And as such, it reached him.

Yellow iris glistened under the bright sunlight. Pupils dilated at the sound, at the wish that rang into his ears. Was he hallucinating? Was he still dreaming? Perhaps the excitement from yesterday still took its toll on him that he was now hearing things. His body remained still, first out of shame and now out of shock. At lost at how to react, Kieran only stood still as his brain registered the reality that was delivered to him.

“Chin up, Kiki!” He heard Carmine’s voice. “Aoi said she’ll battle you!”

Ba-dump!

The sound of loud thumping numbed his senses.

“What?!” An immediate reaction. “W-wowzers, you really don’t mind?!” A quick spin of his heel.

A silent gasp of complete captivation.

“Not at all.” A smile tickled her pink cheeks. “I battled Carmine. What would I be if I didn’t battle you?” Her heart fluttered. Her glee glinted. Hands clasped behind her back, Aoi slid one foot forward. “I told you, didn’t I? I want to get to know you better.” Her playful self emerged. Her smile tickled a cheeky swirl. “And what better way to get to know someone is through a battle.”

Arceus, she was going to make his heart jump out of his chest.

Their distance wasn’t too close, yet it wasn’t too far either. Aoi tipped her head cutely, flashing her signature white smile that could put anyone at ease.

However, right now, Kieran wasn’t anyone.

“A-Ah…” The jacket he wore was too hot. “Ah—mhm…” Too hot.

Their height difference wasn’t that jarring, much to her glee and much to his ire. Grip tightening around the soft strip of yellow cotton, he nodded eagerly. Though her eyes—fiery and powerful—were hidden behind light dark shades, he could easily make the sight of the adorable twinkle in each iris. Unable to retain each other’s gazes, he broke it, dragging his sight down to her adorable nose that was now scrunching slightly due to her pleasant smile. His eyes lingered not a second sooner, for he dropped his gaze down, down to the culprit that continued to send his heart a spiral.

Pink. Fairly pink with a dash of lightly darker browns around her lips. It had formed a smile. A smile that beamed brilliantly like the sun.

A smile that was meant for him.

Diffidence pooled in his stomach, gurgling up to his rapidly beating heart.

His own lips parted. Gasping. Yearning.

“Alright, everyone, back away! They’re gonna have a battle!”

The sound. The loud sound of his sister snapped him from his trance.

“Ah!” Like the boy, she too was brought back to her senses.

Unlike the boy, she wasn’t aware of the consequences of her actions.

“Come on, Kieran.” Taking a few steps backwards, Aoi looked at the open space before them before giving him back the smile he so craved. “Let’s battle.” One hand unsnapped and enlarged a Pokéball in her right hand. Smile evolved to a more confident smirk, one that she always bestowed every time she was in the mood for battling.

The change of atmosphere made him dizzy.

“Right… Right—!” he gasped, then held back a choke to avoid making himself look like a fool. With haste, he dug one hand into his satchel, fingers gripping the Pokéball before swinging his hand out.

Battle.

He got to battle with her.

Embarrassment dissolved into excitement. Yellow eyes sparked thrillingly, void of any nerves of their close distance a few breaths ago, and instead replaced with jitters of seeing what she was capable of.

Quickly, they moved to the open space in front of the community center. Each then stood across each other from a distance. One stood in charming confidence. One stood in edgy excitement.

Sounds of cheers and claps filled the peaceful town. Some were in awe to see an official Pokémon battle. Some were jumping in sheer exhilaration to be able to witness their favourite school champion showing off her skills.

And the two respective students on the battling court?

All they could see—all they could focus right now—was each other.

#SGAO #Dipplinshipping #Kieran #Juliana #Pokemon #Aoi #Carmine #Fafar Writes #girls im chewing my own arm #tryna scratch my brain SO HARD rn

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williszhang · 1 year

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Affirmative action shower thoughts

A Princeton professor said:

At Harvard, more than 80% of recruited athletes are admitted. That’s orders of [magnitude] greater than any racial consideration. It also comes with considerable racial implications. 70% of athletes at Harvard are white, whereas only 40% of the student body is.

This is pretty revealing. You could argue the real enemies of equity, exacerbators of exclusivity, and honestly the most obvious elephants at elite colleges are: sports recruiting and legacy. AOC later quoted the same stats I think so I'm in good company.

But the quote also implies that the 40% white student body, while not even at > 50%, is still higher than it "should" be based on standard considerations. And also that, later in the thread, for colleges that don't consider gender they end up with more women admitted. I think that's fascinating.

Now on to shower-borne solutions. Why do people care about getting into elite colleges? I assume: better job opportunities. And subjectively "social prestige," but I'll focus on jobs for now because I think part of the solution is to undercut prestige. So. What if. Hear me out. We had "college blind" job hiring? Or affirmative action with consideration to diversify educational background?

"That's infeasible."

Is it though?

Federal law already bars employers from discriminating against potential or current employees on factors such as gender, race and age ("equal opportunity employer" or "EEO"). What if we simply tacked on educational background to that list?

"Educational background" is becoming more and more of a subjective bar with less and less utility thanks to democratized online learning materials. Personally speaking, college was the biggest waste of time educationally. I learned nothing that was unique to the particular university, and public high school education was much more meaningful overall.

So how could companies implement this? Google already sort of does this with "hiring committees" and so some of my colleagues didn't even attend college. Hiring committees are a detached cabal that have not interacted with the candidate and only look at the merits of the candidate's interview answers. The committee is blind to educational background, gender, and race. To make this equitable, the top of the funnel needs to include an intentionally diverse pool and that's where Google is imperfect, as are all other companies, since recruiters have extreme leeway and discretion on who to get through the screen.

"So you're saying there should be some federal law that asks recruiters to censor the college a candidate came from before presenting to hiring managers, or companies must consider candidates who attended non-elite colleges (>15% admission rate) in the pool, and the law also asks companies to revamp entire campus recruiting strategies, basically eliminating campus recruiting as it exists today?"

"...Yea!" It only sounds impossible because we settle into artificial constraints on what's possible! I think this is more feasible than fighting at the college admissions level, contending with incentives of endowment and sports economics, VERSUS at the employer level, where it's easier to argue college name != performance. Back to the shower for more thoughts.

#banal lycée anecdotique #penn frats #social justice

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kamoegoi · 2 years

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my pioneer rcq tournament report

tl;dr 31 player turnout for 5 rounds. my final record is 2-2 drop details beneath the cut

god what an upsetting day. i am writing this just so frustated and embarassed of myself but im hoping writing and sharing will make me feel better idk.

the day starst with me waiting for my friend at the store. he said he would print off our deck lists using their printers because he works there and im sitting there knowing he lives jsut around the corner so he is going to show up at the last minute, so i sohuldnt sweat it but i am getting anxious the closer we get to the beginning of round 1. 10 minutes before the round start, my friend texts me to say that he fell off ladder and cant use his arm, so he is going to stay home and said i can ask his boss to print my list off. it happens without a hitch but still, im me, im rattled, but whatever. round 1 starts and i recognize the opponents name. we’ve played commander a few times at this store!

round 1 - vs obosh red wedding

reader, my opponent, who ive never seen play anytihng but commander, sits across from me, we shoot the shit a bit as we set up, and then we both reveal obosh. oh hell yeah!!! more oboshs running around is awesome. opponent plays an inspiring vantage and im like “oh hell yea!!!!” he’s playing the cool version. idk if his version is better than mine in in the mirror admittedly. game 1, i think i am? their mana base is really painful and they also dont get to run the same utility lands as i do, so i feel better if we get to the late game, but if we get to the late game we are both struggling. games 2 and 3, wedding invitation is sort of impossible to play through, though, so i think as long as i take game 1 (which i did) then ive got a shot because in game 3 that means i get to go first which matters a lot in this matchup.

god was game 3 mortifying though. i channle my sokenzan and attack with 2 tokens and my obosh. opponent raises an eyebrow, blocks, and i pass. as my opponent is taking his turn, i realize i couldve brought back my phoenix chick and im like “well alright, i still have enough mana to activate den of the bugbear which gives me 3 attackers anyways.” as my opponent passes the turn back to me, the judge comes over just as i activate the den, swing, and then bring back the phoenix chick. the judge immediately says “hey you cant do that” and i am immediately horrified, and i actually reply “oh it says whenever on it doesnt it?” because i realize my mistake as soon as it was pointed out. judge picks up the card to read it again to be sure and confirms my mistake, but in the end it doesnt matter, opponent had the last burn spell in hand to kill me anyways. the judge was an older boy i knew in high school, so it was doubly awful when he said “sorry [my name], i have to give you a warning for this.”

so for those of you playing at home, i made a mistake that cost me 8 points of damage (!!!!) when my opponent only had 9 health left (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), tunnel visioned on correcting it on my next turn, and cheated because i no longer met the requirements for phoenix chick and received a warning from the cooler older boy i knew from high school against the opponent who always invites me to join his table when i see him during casual night. my whole day is going to be about this. record is 0-1

round 2 - izzet phoenix

oh hell yeah i was literally hoping i would get this matchup because it is so fun imo. game 1 was tough, but i burn my way through a ledger with a full-price skewer the critics and racing a flipped thing in the ice(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) that bounced 3 of my guys. game 2............. i resolve obosh. opponent asks to read it to clarify and after they do, they say “okay” and put it back down. I take that to mean it resolves, and with my last untapped red mana and my opponen on 4 life, i cast play with fire targetting my opponent for lethal. opponent says “oh sorry, it resolves, but i meant to cast this when it comes down” and he shows me the lightning axe. because i didnt pass priority back, opponent never would have had the chance to kill my obosh before i get to cast own spell, but because i cast my spell first, that actually gives opponent the opportunity to respond, letting them kill my obosh before my own spell resolves and saving them from the double damage effect. i am not getting a second warning, so i call the judge over to explain it again to make sure ive got it right and the judge looks at me puzzled and confirms that i have indeed fucked myself by playing too fast and play proceeds with my opponent untapping and killing me. i do win the game 3, but god. to go from 1 mistake into a cheating warning in round 1, to a game losing fast play mistake in round 2? i didnt feel like i won. opponent was the sweetest boy about it. we ende dup just talking about the mtg storyline and what draft formats he liked. he also explained flesh and blood to me a bit, which was cool, because that game does sound neat. still, i am more and more frustrated with myself. record is 1-1

round 3 - velomachus neoform

i was so confused yall. i totally forgot this deck existed. opponent shocks himself turn 1 to duress (!!!!) me, then turn 2 shocks himself again to taigames scheming (????????). it clicks for me when the last card he puts into the graveyard away is a a karn’s temporal sundering (????????????????) and a neoform (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and i immediately start sweating going “oh fuck is griselbrand in this format i have no idea” and i make the conscious note to get him down to less than 7 life so he cant draw a new hand if he manages to connect the combo. i throw a bunch of burn on him and get him down to 3 life so if i topdeck skewer the critics or another creature with haste, they will die, but i pass the turn and oh boy. opponent untaps, neoforms their blocker into velomachus lorehold and then swings, revealing a karns temporal sundering. he bounces one of my creatures which means i now can only win with skewer the critics, but i know what velocmachus does, so i get the impression im not going to get another turn period. opponent swings and finds another temporal sundering, bouncing my last creature, swings again and opponent starts sweating. opponent pulls the top 7 off the top of the deck and reveals part the water veil with a sigh of relief. opponent tells me he had actually scry’d two of his extra turn spells to the bottom, so after seeing 3 extra turns before that he said he was less than 5% to find the last extra turn spell to kill me. honestly the raddest shit i had ever seen. game 2 i burn him down, and opponent tries to go for infinte turns but comes up 1 turn short to kill me. i untap, play out my hand, and kill him. opponent explained that he could have neoform’d for a dragonlord atarka to wipe out my board, but because his life was so low, and because my light up the stage revealed another creature with haste and a ramanup ruins, that if he didnt try to win that turn, i would kill him in 2 turns and he wouldve only killed me in 3. tight. game 3 we both mulligan down to five, but opponent gets stuck on two non-blue producing lands, and i play 1 haste creature on turn 1 and two ahste creatures on turn 2 and then i draw nothing but burn after that. a bummer of an ending, but those first two games were cool as hell. record is 2-1

round 4 -abzan greasefang

so if i win this and go 3-1, i have a shot at making top 8. top 8 makes their tournament entry back, plus gets a cool thing in the ice promo, but top 4 get the big money and the invite to the big show. but then opponent shuffles up and plays turn 1 stitchers supplier and my gut drops out. this is a nightmare match up. game 1 opponent cant find a parahelion, but they do manage a sky sovereign and i burn him down to 5 life. if i can just find one more burn spell to go with the stomp in my hand, we got him, even though my board has been emptied by his skysovereign. reader, i dont find it. game 2, i bring in everything i can, but my opponent really does jsut have it. he finds parahelion on the last card of his girsly salvage and he resolves a greasefang. what can you do. record is 2-2

at this point, there will be at least 6 people with 2-2 record and the top 4 with 3-1 records would all take an intentional draw in the rounds going forward, so with my opponent that means there are 5 people with 3-1 which means only 3 people with 2-2 records can snag those last 3 top 8 spots. with my oppnents including an 0-2 phoenix, a 1-2 velocmachus, and my obosh opponent who ended up going 2-2 (hell yeah) i decided to drop assuming my breakers wouldnt be good enoguh for those last 3 spots and to give my round 4 opponent the best breakers possible in case i messed up the standings. i genuinely have no idea how tie breakers really work, but i know that even if i win, i had next to no chance to make top 8, and if i lose, i basically consign all of my opponents to not making top 8 either, so after the lact rcq where my friend missed top 8 because of my bad tiebreakers, i dropped and went home. before i left, i shot the shit with some of my friends who were either working or just hanging out at the store, comiserated about our records, but honestly i am just gutted. i was so excited for this weekend, and while i thought top 8 was a longshot for obosh, i never expected me to make so many game losing mistakes. im just so frustrated with myself. in a hundred different ways, i shouldve known better. im probably going to be upset about this for the rest of the day.

my takeaway? honestly, i have to reowrk the sideboard. i think it is simply a miserable matchup for all versions of mono red no matter what, but having my top 8 run stuffed both times by it is just such a bummer. instead of resigning to losing to black/red, devotion, AND greasefang, i should pick at least one of them to pick a fight with and i think the answer is devotion because its the closest match of the big decks in the format i think. im thinking:

- 3 rending flames

- 2 ferocidons

+ 4 burning hands

+ 1 rending volley

burning hands to ensure i can stuff whatever turn 2 roadblock devotion throws in front of me if they get to stick their turrn 1 elf and snuff out the cavalier if they i just need to sneak one more attacker in. i didnt see ANY sacrifice in the room, so i think cutting one more ferocidon to finish my set of rending volelys can help cement the win against izzet and gives me one more shot at killing greasefang. if sacrifice continues to not be a very present deck, cutting the last two ferocidons for 2 unlicensed hearse? obosh doesnt really help go over the top of greasfang and hearse being able to constantly eat away at the graveyard messes with both phoenix and greasefang way better than just lanterns do. i also didnt see any gruul vehicle decks, but i think kari zevs expertise would help both that matchup and devotion, so thats another angle.

something to think about. yknow besides the “play slower, call the judge before you make the mistake, not after” lesson. god damn it.

#personal rambling #truly what a nightmare day

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suckthatskittlebiiitch · 2 years

Text

Sleeping beauty

Pairing: Steven Grant x Fem Reader! (Marc and Jake are there too!)

Warning: pussy eating 🥲 small smut nothing to explicit

Summary: Steven sees you laying in bed looking so peaceful..until two certain alters tell him to wake you up in the most euphoric way.

"Look at her fellas....she looks just like an angel sleeping so peacefully" steven came home from work a little earlier than his usual time today. He called out to you when walking in but when no response was heard he walked right to the bedroom to find you sleeping in one of his t-shirts and panties Steven sat on the side of the bed watching your chest go up and down slowly he smiled at the little snores and kissed your forehead lightly.

"Yea she loves her midday naps doesn't she?" marc smiled from the mirror near the corner of the room.

Jake was also looking from the mirror but with a small smirk on his face. "Eat her pussy steven"

Steven looked in horror at his alter, even marc was taken back from the unexpected (slightly expected) suggestion.

"N-no i cant do that mate! shes sleeping" He whispered harshly "You mad?" Jake only shrugged "look at her she looks good enough to eat. so eat hombre" he looked back at your still sleeping form. Was it a terrible idea? maybe. As you turn on your back to get into a comfortable position the shirt you wore rose up a little exposing your panties. Steven's heart started to race, a blush crept up his neck to his now blushing cheeks.

"Just pull them to the side steven i bet she would love to be woken up by our tongue" jake grinned

"Marc w-what you think?" he looked to marc for some sort of help maybe tell jake this is a bad idea

"Honestly....i say go for it" marc licked his lips.

Steven couldn't believe he was about to do this but truth be told the thought of eating your pussy while you slept made him hard as hell. He slowly crawled onto the bed making sure not to wake you. His hands shook slightly as he pulled your panties off your legs and quietly set them down on the bed. "Mmm..." you groaned in your sleep. Steven halted his movements when he saw you move around

"its ok she's still asleep buddy, just slowly spread her legs ok?" marc nodded his head toward him. Jake simply watched.

"right" steven licked his lips as he spread your legs apart revealing that slice of heaven to him. He laid on his stomach, wrapped his hands around your thighs...

"Oh Dios Mio hermano do or ill do it!" aggravation dripped from jake's voice as he waited.

"shhh!! he's got it jake shut up!" marc countered

Steven licked a slow stride between your pussy lips, then another and another. "Fuck" he sighed. You wiggled a little but didn't wake up; this gave him the go ahead to suck lightly on your clit, rolling it around with his tongue. "mmm..hmmm..."you gasped and were now moving more in bed. Steven used two fingers to spread your lips more and drove his tongue deeper inside, he moaned between your legs, the vibrations causing you to open your eyes slightly and looked down at him.

"ooh..baby ooh steven.." you moaned sliding your fingers in his hair to grip, hips moving against his mouth to hump his face. Steven sunk two fingers deep inside the sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room along with heavy pants and squeals.

"oh fuck I'm gonnna cum!" you moaned "Cum for me dove give me that sweet pussy come on baby" his accent slurred slightly as he rubbed that spot that drove you mad. "s-steven!!" you screamed out then laid back against the pillows panting.

"you alright love?" only steven grant could check to see if your ok after making you squirt. "yea I'm fine baby just didn't expect to be woken up like that! full of surprises aren't you steven?" you smiled as he blushed and sat next to you. "well just wanna keep you on your toes" he chuckled.

You looked to see the clear bulge against his pants then back up at him with a smirk. You gripped him by the shirt to kiss him deeply before flipping him on his back with you now on top.

"well..let me return the favor...mr knight" you winked.

#steven grant x reader #moon knight smut #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x black reader

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marvelmaniac2000 · 2 years

Text

Girl's Lock & Key

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄▃▂

Summary: Eddie just wants to ask a simple question…what goes down in the girl’s

locker room stays in the girl’s bathroom.

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader

Subject: dry humping sort of thing, lots of fingering, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names, cowgirl position, public sex, tongue kissing, male dominance,

Words: 1.4k

Side notes: I think we all deserve a side of Eddie that just takes over our body in a nice asshole way. I have no shame writing him as a pervy man he can be. Nothing spectacular, just something to read to get us through late night withdraw am i right? lmao… Not my best work

(apologies for misspelling/grammar, NO MINORS +18 OLDERS ONLY)

“Good job everybody we’ll start off tomorrow with a stronger start I hope” your coach blew her whistle for a final roll call. Everyone splashed themselves out of the chilling pool in a hurry. Once again Hawkins was one of the top tier teams who hoped to win division II again.

But it felt quite different for you. Ever since you moved to Hawkins everything has been pretty okay, but the only thing that made it seem bearable was your love of swimming. Feeling the water crash onto your skin and fill your ears cooled off the massive amount of thoughts racing in your head.

You climbed out of the pool and shivered into a towel close by the girl’s locker room entrance.

The chatter of your teammates surrounded you as you looked for your assigned locker.

“Aye (Y/N) you wanna come with us to the mall?” Max asked while looking at you with concern.

She was a good freshmen starter and cool person but you always rather stuck to things alone.

“Nah I think I’ll head home and finish some late minute assignments” you picked up your article of clothing before tip toeing to the nearest stall to change.

“You know (Y/N) always takes a little longer to change than the rest of us anyway” , one of your friends jokes.

“Hey I can still hear you hoes from back here!” you cackled. “I know that’s why we’ll meet up some other time! See ya later!” the noise of shuffling feet leaving the door echoed through before complete silence. You sigh in relief after a long day and continue to put on your clothes. After a few minutes you open the stall door but froze noticing big black boots underneath. “Um Ed is that you?” you gulped fearing the unknown.

“Yea sorry, it’s me I kinda snuck in here, I wanted to talk to you about something” you slowly cracked the door halfway to make sure it was him. “Yeah, why are you here? This is a girl’s locker room for god sake” you swung the door open to look at the guy you loved dearly. “I know but this is important-” Eddie froze, noticing the top of your swimsuit revealing much of your cleavage and your gym shorts covering the bottom half. “Ok well this better be good” you politely scooted past him and tried fixing your appearance in the mirror. Eddie twisted his ring around his thumb looking at your backside.

“I just wanted to know if you could give me a ride back home?” My ride isn’t the best at the moment … Soooo pretty please sweetheart” his alto voice vibrated your ears making you relive the pleasure that he has over you. His groin hardened into you from behind and kissed your shoulder.

“You know it’s never a problem at all” you moan, feeling his hand roam for something wet between your legs. “I know baby but I like teasing you first before asking for favors” you turned around to face him and hungrily pressed your lips onto his. “You miss me, pretty princess?” Eddie sucked your neck leaving branded marks. You moan, feeling your fingers roam endlessly, feeling trapped between his grip. “

Not here” you gasped feeling him eagerly pull your strap down to devour your soft nipple. Eddie ignored your comment with a moan instead and squeezed your soft breast. Your shorts began to ride up as he pressed himself harder between your thighs.

“I just wanna see your pretty face begging for me again” he brushed his finger down your nose seeing you fluster. His lips sucked onto your bottom lip feeling his little girl suffer in lust. “Take it off baby, daddy wanna see you naked” you slowly stripped your shorts and swimsuit off as he watched your every move.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. He looked around the locker room and signaled you to follow him to a small bench that sat against the wall between the lockers. Eddie sat on the bench and patted his lap.

“Come sit and be a good girl” he gently reached out his arms for you to sit on his lap with his bare jeans. Eddie glued his eyes onto your body wanting to feel every inch of your skin. His two digits hooked in between your wet sticky folds rubbing your swollen clit in slow circular motions. “Please Eddie” you lean your weight onto him wrapping your arms around his neck. You buck your hips riding his fingers on his lap. You high pitch moans filled his ears feeling his girl get wetter with his touch. Eddie slapped your ass making you jolt. “Let me hear you moan for me I like hearing it,” he commanded.

“This is torture” you mumbled as he sucked your breasts endlessly. You threw your head back dry humping any sign of his dick inside his pants. Eddie moisten his fingers with his tongue before slipping two fingers inside you. You throw your head back and bounce your hips up and down on his thick fingers.

“You love this don’t you?” he cupped your ass watching you in heat over him. You moan feeling pools of pleasure from his fingers grazing your g spot.

“You want the real thing don’t you?” Eddie continued to pump his fingers faster while holding your chin between his fingers. Your eyelids grew heavy and your mouth parted.

“I can’t” you helplessly pant. So much pleasure filled your nerves and your clit constantly tickled and your wet pussy filled with thick cream dripping over his fingers. Eddie pressed his lips against your lips, tonguing the corner of your mouth.

Eddie Moan into the kiss and strings of spit parted from between your mouths. He wiped the corner of his mouth and put his fingers inside your mouth to taste your own cum.

“It’s time to give my pretty princess what she wants” he unzipped his pants and revealed his pre cum member ready for you. You climb yourself off of your lover and kneeled down to devour his tip.

You slowly bob your head to pick up pace around his shaft. Your tongue twirls around every inch of him leaving no room to breathe. You look into his eyes and devour him more until his tip grazes your throat. “You’re such a good girl” he pressed thumb on your chin while you sucked him dry.

“Come ride daddy” his eyes felt hungry watching you raise back up and climb on top of him and grip him with your thighs. You slowly lowered yourself down onto him, feeling him penetrate your tight opening.

“It’s ok baby keep going down” he bite his lip watching you slowly enter inside him filling you up. You silently moan trying to find a pace onto his size. Eddie guided you up and down feeling your breasts pressed up against his bare shirt.

“You feel so good princess” you moan out his name feeling your wetness more as he praised you more. “Go faster for daddy” he pushed his waist harder into yours making you whimper into his shoulder. Eddie gripped onto your wrist wanting you to feel each orgasmic stroke he loves putting into you.

“Pleasseee Eddie I can’t take much more” you beg trying to catch up with his forceful strokes. “Only when I say so” he kissed your wrist and watched you ride him until you couldn’t anymore. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rammed his dick into your g spot while keeping his eyes on your breathless face. “

You can cum now baby, you look so pretty when you're under me” he chuckled into your ear making you release a pulsating orgasm into your soul. You sharply try to catch your breath feeling warmth sweep over your body. “Eddie” you mewed and lazily crashed your lips onto his. “yes sweetness?" he grinned against your kiss.

likes? comments? Requests? Fill Free to let me know, thanks for reading!

#eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #love story #writing #fanfic #netflix #ao3 #writers #writblr

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

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just-antithings · 3 years

Note

i hate this recent trend of having to list everything about yourself. i grew up being taught to never reveal anything about yourself online, now not listing your race means you're white and "trying to escape your privilege" and not listing your age apparently makes you a pedophile who's trying to invade minor's spaces or something

Yea like? I have never and will never give any sort of identifying information, you will receive a fake name, and my age but thats cause I'm an adult who posts adult content telling other adults I am an adult.

#mod gatito #ask

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

Text

Schoolyard: 8

AN: it’s my birthday so let’s celebrate with a surprise new part 🥳

Before you can even knock the door swings open.

“Daughter.” Frigga says with a smile.

“Ma’am.”

“Frigga, please.” You nod and she loops an arm through yours then leads you into her room. “When Thor told Odin and I about your marriage I was surprised. But of course my children would get into some sort of mischief like that, even unintentionally.” She laughs softly and gestures for you to have a seat. “Tea?”

“Oh, yes please, thank you.” You tell her and she pours you a cup of tea.

“Thor told me what happened when you were in New York. Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, surprisingly.”

“I’m sorry it happened.” She says kindly and you take a sip of your tea to avoid answering. “But that isn’t the reason I asked you here. I wanted to talk about you and my son.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you going through with the annulment?”

“I don’t mean any disrespect but I don’t think this is a conversation I’m comfortable having with you.”

“I’m just trying to understand. You clearly like Thor and he adores you.”

“Your Majesty,”

“I just think you both need to go into this with all the cards on the table. If you don’t you both might do something that you regret.” She eyes you for a moment as she takes a sip of her own tea. “Are you going to the charity event tonight?”

“I am.”

“Excellent, do you have a dress yet?”

“No, Thor said he’d send some options.”

“Would you allow me to help style you? My children haven’t allowed me to have much fashion fun in a long while.”

“Oh, that would be lovely.” You agree and she smiles.

“Alright, come with me.” You follow Frigga down the hallway and back to the room you share with Thor. “Excellent, the dresses are already here.” She says as she pushes open the door. There’s a rack of dresses sitting in the middle of the room, shoes on the shelf at the bottom. There are several different color dresses but the one that draws your eye first is a navy blue sparkly dress with spaghetti straps, a low v cut neckline and a slit in the skirt that goes to mid-thigh. You check the size and are pleased to see that the dress is in your size.

“What do you think of this one?”

“Oh that’s beautiful, I’d suggest a shawl or coverup of some kind though, it could get cold. Why don’t you try it on? And might I suggest this one too?” She hands you another navy dress, this one has thicker straps with a tulle skirt and flowers that start at the waistline then go down the skirt. You nod and are about to open the bathroom door when it swings open revealing Thor. His hair is wet and a towel is slug low on his hips, the dog tags hang around his neck as water trails down from the wet metal.

“Elskede,” he purrs lowly with a small smirk. “I see the dresses have arrived.”

“Yea, uh, your mom offered to help me pick something.”

“Kjæreste.” Frigga says with a smile not looking at her mostly naked son.

“Mother. It looks like there’s going to be a dress show. May I stay and join?”

“Kjære, just let us girls have some fun.” She tells him with a wave of her hand.

“Alright, alright Mother.” He grabs some clothes and goes back into the bathroom to change. When he’s changed he kisses his mother on the cheek then shoots you a wink and leaves. After he’s gone you glance over at Frigga and ask,

“Frigga? What does Kjæreste mean?”

“Darling.”

“Okay, and what about Kjære?”

“Sweetheart.” You move into the doorway and just before you close it ask,

“And what about Elskede?”

“Beloved.” She says and you softly shut the door. Beloved? He’s been calling you beloved this whole damn time. Beloved is so much deeper than sweetheart or honey or whatever it was you thought he was calling you. It certainly wasn’t beloved!

What are you going to do? You like him, you like him so much but could you actually do this? Could you actually be his Queen? Do you love him? You pull on the dress Frigga gave you, and zip it. You go out into the bedroom and Frigga smiles,

“You look beautiful. How do you feel?”

“Pretty.” You admit swishing the skirt back and forth.

“We can do better than just pretty don’t you think? Why don’t you try the other one?”

“Okay.” You agree turning and going back into the bathroom. When you get the dress you’d picked on you turn toward the mirror and pause. You love it. You love the sparkle, the fit, the thigh slit, all of it. When you go back into the bedroom Frigga grins.

“There we go, that’s the one.” She crosses to the door and says something to one of the women outside then closes the door again. “Do you feel beautiful?”

“Absolutely.” You tell her with a smile, “which shoes do you think?”

“Are you alright in heels?”

“They’re required at the hospital I worked at. One of the more sexist practices.” You tell her with a little eye roll and she laughs gently. There’s a knock on the door and before you can answer it Frigga calls,

“Enter.” When you look over at her she gives you a smile, “I had them go to my personal vault and get some things.” Two guards come in pushing a cart with a safe on top. After one of the guards opens it they both go back out the door and close it. “If none of these are to your liking we can go and find something else but I think you’ll like them.”

She further opens the door of the safe and you see several velvet boxes. She takes out the top one and opens it. Inside is a teardrop diamond on a silver chain and a pair of dangly earrings that are also teardrop shaped. She hands you each of the earrings and you put them in as she unclasps the necklace then helps you put it on. You look into the mirror and it’s not quite right.

“No, I don’t think so.” She says and you take out the earrings as Frigga undoes the necklace.

It takes three more tries but when she opens a velvet box with a white gold necklace inside, there’s a stick of diamonds that hangs down. The earrings are dangly, with two sticks hanging from the stud. When you put them in and the necklace goes on and the earrings are in you know this is it.

“Perfection.” Frigga coos, “Now, what should we do about your hair?”

You end up doing it in a loose updo, a silver chain woven into your hair. You get your make up done too and when you’re finished you feel like the princess you are in title.

“Oh Kjæreste you look beautiful.” Frigga says giving you a soft squeeze before handing you a black see through shrug. You tug on the silver shoes then wait for Thor to come and get you. You don’t have to wait long when he knocks softly on the door,

“I’m coming.” You tell him as you make your way to the door you scoop up the clutch that’s on the bed on your way to the door. When you open it Thor is standing on the other side with his hands in his pockets talking to Volstagg. When he turns and sees you he stops talking as his gaze travels over your body.

“Elskede,” he breathes, “you look stunning.” Your heart is pounding but you grab him by either side of the opening of his tux jacket and pull him back into the room.

“Close the door.” You tell him and he does as you ask looking just a little confused. “You lied to me.”

“What?”

“Elskede. You said it meant sweetheart, but it doesn’t. It means beloved.”

“You’re right.”

“Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I your beloved?” You ask your heart still racing as you wait for his response. It feels like hours but you know it’s only seconds.

“Yes.” He says simply and you pull his head down to yours and kiss him. Thor takes a second to respond but when he does his hands curl around your head. He’s careful to not ruin your hair as he teases your lips apart. You feel like you’ve been struck by lightening and every cell of your body is tingling. You pull away from him and he smiles slowly.

“I’m glad you didn’t wear lipstick.” He teases and you duck your head as you laugh softly. Volstagg knocks on the door and Thor gently tips your chin up so he can look you in the eyes. “We have to go to this event but we also need to have a conversation about this.”

“Tonight when we get back or first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay, now one more for the road.” He says and before you can ask what he means he kisses you again.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @eralen @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @valsworldofcreativity @gaitwae @blackwidownat2814

#thor odinson #imagine thor #thor odinson au #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson x reader au #Thor odinson x reader #imagine thor odinson #imagine thor odinson au #imagine thor x reader #thor x reader au #Thor x reader #schoolyard story

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wren-writes68 · 3 years

Text

Ordered Online au

<Warnings- soft vore- mention of digestion- dehumanization- cursing- mouthplay>

Tommy started pacing as his message to tubbo didn’t even go read, he picked up his phone scrolling back through the other 50 messages he’d sent, over the course of two weeks to both tubbo and eventually ranboo, neither even reading them. Everyone was worried as tommy sent a text to the group chat saying that tubbo still hadn’t answered.

Wilbur: I’m sure it’s fine we’ll head over to his house tomorrow

Phil: Did we ever get his address mate?

Wilbur: uh I’m pretty sure

Wilbur: nope nvm

Tommy: guys this is serious, tubbo and ranboo aren’t responding!

Techno: guys Tommy’s using correct punctuation, we should be scared.

Phil: guys enough. Tommy just get some food and go to bed, we’ll handle this ok.

Tommy: but phillllll

Phil: no buts it’s already 10

Wilbur: sent you some food toms it’s really good!

Tommy: thanks big man

Techno:night nerd

Tommy is typing…

[Phil] has muted this chat

Tommy sighed putting his phone down, only to pick it back up shoving it in his pocket and heading downstairs remembering Wilbur had ordered some ‘good’ food for him. As if on cue the doorbell rang, tommy walked over to the door and a teen wearing some sort of tacky ass suit, “listen man it’s the uniform ok do you want your food or not” the man said pushing a paper bag into Tommy’s arms and turning away mumbling curses under his breath at the weird looks he kept getting. “Ok then?” Tommy said taking the small bag inside and pulling out a small styrofoam container, that smelled really good, a plastic fork, and a plastic knife.

Tommy, having set everything out on the table, opened the container revealing a steak covered in different spices and sauces, the sight alone made his mouth water. He sent a quick thank you off to Wilbur, Wilbur responding with a simple “your welcome” as well as the name and location of the place. “Tiny fancy, what a weird ass na-” he stoped seeing movement in the tiny container, and pushing the steak around saw two tines crouched down behind it cowering, “Huh I guess the name does make some sense then.” tommy had to say he was exited, he’d had tinies before but his parents were big on ‘no tinies in the house,’ in case of starting an infested or something, luckily his parents were out of town so he could eat them. “Tommy!?” Or not…

Tommy looked down hearing the tiny call out his name, “how do you know my name!?” He asked trying to get a better look at the smalle borrower, “Tommy it’s me, Tubbo!” It said this time climbing on top of the steak so Tommy could see him. “holy shit, Tubbo!?” Tommy yelled making both tinies flinch, tommy made a mental note not to do that again, he held his hand towards the tiny bot sure if tubbo would be ok with being touched, but when his hand got in reach Tubbo practically jumped into it tearing up at the gentle contact of the light fist he was held in. “Um guys” the other borrower said having gotten out of the box, “oh ranboob! tommy said causing ranboo to sigh.

Tommy set tubbo back down and picked up the shitty utensils, cutting a small chunk for his tiny friends and a bigger one for him they tasted this heavenly looking steak. Turns out the tinies were the only edible thing there, “gross!” Tubbo said, throwing the small chunk of meat back in the container ranboo following suit, tommy however ate the entire thing having nothing else better at the moment. “So what now?” Ranboo asked, everyone taking a second to think before tubbo shouted “sleepover!”

Tommy grabbed tubbo and ranboo walking back to his room and putting them down on the bed with his phone which tubbo instantly started trying to play on, “ ‘m gonna go to the bathroom I’ll be back” tommy said walking away. Tubbo gave a dismissive “mhm” and went back to trying to play on the giant phone.

~~flashback~~

“Are they defective?” One on the humans said towering over ranboo and a couple of other borrowers “no sir these are the new borrowers we still need to test them” another replied. Ranboo looked around the bright, box? Suddenly a hand came down and wrapped around him tightly lifting him towards one of the scientists faces, the human looked him over before turning to his college “this one would work nicely in the food industry” the other hummed looking over a small sheet, “yea sure put him in the order with #20212215” ranboo zoned out mind racing to the fact he was going to be food “blah blah blah, Brighton order” Ranboo perked up hearing that. Brighton he was going to the UK and he was getting sent to Brighton right where Wilbur was, surly he could escape and get to one of his friends, “first put him in training the UK agency says #20212215’s an annoying one hopefully this guy will tie him down” and with that ranboo was taken off to who knows where.

“Day 8 of training the subject has mastered basic commands and has not only gotten used to getting swallowed but has mastered climbing into the mouth and inside massages as well” Ranboo paused hearing the human he was supposed to call ‘his’ but was really named Greg and was very nice to him even though he still had to do his job, ranboo didn’t feel bad giving the nice man a massage after he’d given ranboo actual food.

Greg walked down with supervisor, “very well send him” the man said walking away to do who knows what, “nice, congrats ran you’re going to be with #21202215 and you guys are heading out to one, mr. Wilbur Soot” Ranboo perked up “Wilbur hu, you know him?” Greg asked. Ranboo frantically shook his head “yea we’re friends!” Greg laughed at his excitement “that’s good cause I’d hate you go to a bad place you’re a nice little guy” he said rubbing a finger against ranboo before gently picking him up and setting him in a box “good luck then ran” he chuckled closing the box.

~~flashback end~~

“Aww it turned off” Tubbo whined “Ranboo what’s the password.” Ranboo who’d been curled up on the pillow groaned “why would I know?” “Tommy what’s your passwo-” Tubbo’s sentence stoped with a short scream as the bed shook probably from Tommy flopping down. Ranboo looked up seeing tommy face first in the pillow tubbo now snuggled in the crook of his neck drifting off “you ok tommy?” Ranboo asked walking towards the pair, tommy turned to make sure tubbo was asleep which he was, surprisingly “that steak is not sitting well” tommy said with another grand putting his head back into the pillow.

“I might be able to help with that” Ranboo whispered, “hmh?” Tommy groaned picking his head up to look at ranboo, “it uh…it was apart of a program they put me in before, this” Tommy stayed silent knowing how scary some of those ‘tests’ could be. “Y-you don’t have to, I get that it probably wasn’t a good experience” Ranboo was quick to retort “no no it’s fine. it’s actually not that bad”

Tommy tiredly pushed his lips up to ranboo making the smaller male laugh, “come-on tommy you have to do more than that” he said, easily pushing Tommy’s mouth open and climbing in “mmm” tommy hummed around ranboo licking over him and lightly sucking on him.

Ranboo laughed as the wet muscle licked over him hums vibrating throughout his entire form. Ranboo hugged the tongue as it finished licking over him and started nudging him backwards, he chuckled and pat the tongue almost instantly being pulled down by the strong, yet surprisingly gentle throat muscles. Ranboo was pulled down for a good couple seconds before being deposited into the stomach, ranboo got out a small flashlight he’d gotten from Greg and looked around. What remained of the ‘steak’ that Tommy ate looked more like plastic than food and the walls around it looked irritated, ranboo walked over placeing a hand on the irritated area before the whole stomach convulsed around him and Tommy let out a pained groan. Ranboo backed away finding a nice non irritated spot to curl up in and started rubbing the walls around him, soon the whole area vibrated a light purring coming form all around him “…tommy are your purring?” Ranboo asked chuckling as the teen in question just grumbled huffing lightly before what ranboo assumed was passing out. “Good night then” he laughed giving the walls one last pat and cuddling into the folds of the stomach drifting off protected and safe inside his friend.

Finally coming back to write, pog

(Not prof read)

Any asks for this au are appreciated since I don’t know where to go with this but I want to continue it.

#Ordered Online au #g!tommy #t!tubbo #t!ranboo #ranboo and tommy #soft vore #mouth play

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Starting Over

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Combining two Anonymous requests for this: reader is Jax's younger sister, and with Juicey boi. Stuck fiercely with him through Potter. Douchebag! Anyway, so. It's just after Tara, and Juice has gone MIA. As soon as reader hears Jax wants Juice, she goes to find him - obviously get's pointed to him by Wendy (not Gem because she knows what she'll do). When she goes to Juice, he tries to scare her off, but she gives him some lip, then maybe some smut - then she takes him far away, never to return! & can I get a Juice x Female reader where she finds out that Jax wants Juice after he goes MIA, and she's been with Juice for ages without the boys knowing - and she realises that Juice is in danger, so she manages to find out where he is, and she goes there, has some fluffy/angst time with Juice, before pulling him into her car and driving off to take him away and completely leave Charming and the sons behind. Maybe a fluffy pregnancy reveal too? Ultimately, must save Juice and protecc

Warnings: language, angst, slight steam

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Figured that these two requests ran pretty parallel to each other so I combined them! Only thing I didn’t do was full-on smut because it didn’t really fit with the whole mood of everything. But we gettin’ Juice outta his mess for sure. Enjoy! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @mayans-sauce @adela-topaz-caelon @i-just-read-stuff @chibsytelford @mijop @shadow-of-wonder @xladymacbethx @kkim120 @multiyfandomgirl40 @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

Things had been falling apart for the club for a while. Growing up in the middle of it had exposed you to a lot, but even so this was the most chaotic it had been in your lifetime. You couldn’t blame it all on Jax, knowing that things started crumbling long before your brother took his seat at the head of the table. But there was a lot more frustration there between the two of you than there used to be.

That rising tension was the original reason that you never told Jax, or anyone in the club for that matter, that you had gotten involved with Juice. It had sort of just fallen together. There was something about him that you couldn’t pull yourself away from, no matter how far he seemed to spiral. His life was just as messy as yours, if not messier, which was another reason the two of you decided to keep things quiet—it was supposed to cut down on the mess.

However, once you noticed that Jax’s feelings about Juice took a turn, you got nervous. Ever since Tara was murdered, he was on a warpath. You couldn’t necessarily blame him, but Juice was on thin ice as it was and you weren’t going to let him become another casualty if you could help it. You didn’t lose him in the depths of things with Potter, you weren’t going to lose him now.

You had looked everywhere for him. You scoured all of Charming but he was nowhere to be found. You stopped by his place, and immediately noticed that certain things were missing. His place wasn’t cleaned out, but you could tell that he packed the essentials to make a quick getaway. Your heart sunk inside your chest as you tried to strategize how to find out where he was. There was a short list of people you felt like you could trust to ask who wouldn’t blow up your spot to the rest of the club.

You found yourself on Gemma’s doorstep. For as much as you loved your mother, she was the last person that you wanted to talk to about this. You did, however, know that she and Wendy were close these days, and that anything Gemma knew about Juice, she might’ve pipelined to Wendy. It was a long-shot but she was the only person you had left that you felt like you could talk to without exposing yourself, or Juice.

Gemma opened the door, “Hey, sweetheart, everything alright?” she hugged you once you stepped inside.

You nodded, “Yea, all good. I just, uh, is Wendy here?”

You could see the gears turning in Gemma’s mind, “Yea, why?”

You shook your head, “Nothin’ I just wanted to talk to her about some counseling stuff,” you tried to play it off, “One of Lyla’s girls is a little,” you shook your hand slightly, “Rocky right now. Just wanted to get her opinion on some stuff. That’s all.”

You’d gotten good at lying to Gemma—it was the only way to have any semblance of privacy. She nodded, convinced for the time being, “She’s in the guest room with the boys. Send them out before you start talking about that shit though, alright?”

You nodded, “Of course.”

You made your way back to the room, politely sending your nephews on their way before shutting the door, allowing you and Wendy your privacy. Confusion was written all over her face as you sat on the bed with her. You took a deep breath as you tried to get your thoughts together, praying that this wouldn’t backfire on you.

“You know where Juice is?” there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Why would I know that?” she couldn’t meet your eyes, and you knew that she was trying to hide something.

“I know the club wants him dead,” you paused, correcting yourself, “I know Jax wants him dead. I just…I just wanna help him.”

“You wanna help Juice?” she clearly didn’t buy it.

You ran your hands down your face, not able to fault her for being skeptical, “Jax might be my brother but that doesn’t mean that I blindly support everything he does. I’m not my mother,” you shook your head, “Juice can’t survive this on his own. He needs someone.”

“You?”

You took a deep breath, knowing you’d already put yourself in a pretty deep hole. What was the harm in digging yourself a little deeper? You met Wendy’s eyes, “I’ve been with Juice for a while now. Way before all this other shit started. I can’t…I can’t let Jax get to him.”

Wendy pressed her lips together into a thin line. She knew as well as anyone what your family was like. It was a wonder that you turned out the way you did. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, “He’s at my place. That’s…that’s why I’m still here.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Y-your place?”

She nodded, “Gemma was banking on me staying in rehab way longer. Figured it was a free, empty place for him to stay. I wasn’t gonna kick him to the streets when the club wants his head on a goddamn stake. So…he’s still there.”

You leaned in a hugged her, for the first time in a long time. It felt a little foreign at first but she leaned into you for a moment and accepted it. You pulled away, trying to fight back the tears that were stinging at the edges of your eyes, “Thank you. Seriously.”

She nodded, “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

You both got a quiet laugh out of that. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you stood up. Before opening the door, you turned back to Wendy, “If Gemma asks, I asked you about some rehab counseling shit for one of Lyla’s girls.”

She nodded, “Got it,” there was a brief pause, “Take care of him. He needs it.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything more as you left the room. You made your way back through the house, giving your nephews hugs and kisses goodbye before saying goodbye to Gemma as well. You tried not to let your anxiety shine through as you tried to put together some semblance of a plan.

You raced back to your place and packed a few bags. You grabbed the few things that Juice had left at your apartment over the last few months, not wanting to leave any trace of that behind once you were gone. You packed the essentials, grabbed your emergency stash of cash, and then hit the road to get to Wendy’s place.

You knocked relentlessly on the door. When there was no answer, you finally spoke up, “It’s me, Juice.”

Seconds later Juice opened the door, gun in his hand by his side. You could see it written all over his face that he was spinning out. You took a deep breath as you stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. You immediately stepped in and wrapped him in a hug, your heart breaking at the way he practically fell into your embrace like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

After a few moments, you pulled away from him. You could see it in his eyes how lost he was. You reached out, gently cupping his face, “We gotta go.”

“What?” he looked confused.

“We gotta go. We gotta get out of here. You can’t stay here.”

“Yea but…but you can’t go with me.”

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear him say it so definitively. “Why not?”

“Because you’re Jax Teller’s fucking sister,” he snapped, “You can’t just…leave Charming. You can’t just leave. Especially not with someone the club wants dead. They, they won’t stop until they find you. Or me.”

“They’re not going to find us.”

“You’re an escape artist now?”

You scoffed, “I don’t think that you’re in a position to be criticizing. It took me one day to find you.”

He gnawed at the inside of his lip, “You can’t do this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“That’s a risk that I’m willing to take.”

“Well I’m not,” he shook his head, “You’re not putting yourself out on the line like that for me. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?” your laugh was hollow, “Let me? You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. I grew up under Gemma’s fucking thumb—I’m done getting bossed around by other people. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t come with you.”

“Yes, Y/N, I do. You’re not throwing your whole life away for me.”

“I’m not throwing it away! I don’t want a life here in Charming if you’re not in it.”

“They will never forgive you for leaving.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Y/N,” he sounded angry but you could see the tears in his eyes. He turned away love every chance he could, not wanting to deal with the heartbreak that followed, “You can’t leave. Not with me. Not for me. I’m…I’m not worth the fallout.”

“Yes you are,” you stepped in and cupped his face once more, “You are worth whatever it takes. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, tears escaping down onto his cheeks, “I love you too.”

You pulled his lips to yours, catching them in a rough, needy kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, like it was the last time he was ever going to be able to touch you. His tongue ran along the inside of your lip before meeting yours. You moaned, fingers pressing into the back of his neck. His hands slid underneath your shirt, nails raking lightly along the soft skin of your back.

You pulled away, breathless as you rested your forehead against his. He gave you a light squeeze, “I love you.”

You smiled despite the heaviness of the situation that you were in, “I love you too.”

“We can finish this when we get to wherever we’re going,” he chuckled, and it was nice to see him smile.

You nodded, pulling away from him a little bit, “Right, right,” you took a deep breath as you looked around Wendy’s place, “You got a bag packed?”

He turned and walked towards the closet, digging around before resurfacing with a duffle bag that was bursting at the seams. You looked at the kutte that was draped across the top of it and your heart broke. Leaving Samcro behind was going to be a big shift for the both of you—it was all you’d ever known, and it was all the family Juice had anymore.

He saw the look in your eyes and the tears returned to his. You shook your head slightly, “You gotta leave it, baby. Nothing good is gonna come from you keeping that.”

He nodded even though he didn’t want to admit it, “I know.”

He gripped the leather tight in his hand for a few moments before laying it on the end of Wendy’s couch. You nodded in approval, pulling him towards you and kissing him softly on the lips to let him know that it was going to be okay.

“You sure you wanna do this?” his voice wavered a little, “There’s…there’s no coming back from this.”

You nodded, “I’m sure,” you tangled your fingers with his, “Let’s go.”

The two of you packed what little you had into the trunk of your car. You situated yourself in the driver’s seat before turning to look at Juice. Worry was still present in his features but you could tell that even despite that, he was glad that you were there with him

You reached over, taking his hand in your own, “We're gonna be alright. We're going to figure all of this out. We'll be safe,” you paused, “Do you trust me?”

He nodded, no hesitation in his response, “With my life,” he paused for s few moments, “You’re really willing to leave behind your family for me?”

“You’re my family,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Juice?”

“Yea?” his eyes searched yours, trying to guess what you were going to say next.

“I mean it, you know. You’re my guy. My family.”

His smile as soft, sincere, “You’re my family too.”

“I know now might not be the best time,” you chuckled nervously, “But really when do we ever have a right time for anything, right?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m…I’m not going to be your only family for much longer,” you couldn’t hold back your nervous laughter as you took his hand and rested it on your stomach, “A fresh start is going to be good for all of us.”

His eyes widened as he realized what you were telling him. A smile broke out across his face as he leaned over and kissed you hard on the lips. He’d never been more ready to run off with you than he was in that moment.

“Alright,” he chuckled, unable to believe the situation he was in, “let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”

You smiled, kissing him once more softly on the lips, “Let’s go.”

You threw the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. As you took off, Juice's hand came to rest on your thigh, “I love you.”

You smiled, glancing over at him for a moment, “I love you too.”

Your eyes made their way back to the road in front of you. Letting out a deep sigh, you let yourself soak up the fact that you were on your way to somewhere new, with the only person who really mattered, the only person who ever really tried to look out for you these days. Charming faded out of your rearview mirror and you had never felt more relieved, despite the uncertainty that laid ahead. All of the anxiety though., faded away when you felt Juice's thumb tracing back and forth on your leg. You had faith that the next chapter was really going to be the start of a whole new book, just for the three of you.

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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xsarcasticwriterx · 3 years

Text

Young God-Part 1

Summary: Your power isn't even a power its simply words. You can understand people, get into their head and know them better than anyone all willingly on their end. This made you useful to the avengers when villains came and you could understand and fix them. When this is asked to be done to loki you cant help but fall for the god the more you get to know him.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Swearing, Loki being loki,angst

Notes: Ok lemme just start of saying loki isn't going to be...nice in the beginning of this i got the idea off of joker and harley quinn's relationship and slightly silence of the lambs so do with that what you will now i adore loki so he won't be a dick the whole time just yea someone getting into loki's head? he isn't too chill with that.

You walked down the stairs leading to the dungeon where the god was locked away ready for you to speak to. you heard the mocking laughs and sarcastic remarks made as you passed the cells.” “hey mortal lemme get a taste” he said thrust to you. you flipped him off not looking at him and passing on by. seeing the god laying on the couch reading a book you walked through the boundaries placed stepping before him. Odin had given you a pill, said it would allow you past the wall of an hour and only you. “hello” he said reading his book still. “apologies for my fellow inmates they can be quiet rude” he said with a small smirk.

“ironic coming from a man with the nickname silver tongue” you said sitting down on a chair in front of him. he placed down his book “oh doll there's more to that nickname” he said with a wink. you simply rolled your eyes in response. you had been told loki was like this. “anyways why are you here” he asked sitting up turning to you “did odin send you to make sure im behaving?” he asked with a snarky tone

You made a mental note of his hatred for odin, though from your interactions with the man you slightly understood that. “i'm here to speak to you” is all you said. loki scoffed “you doll are a horrible liar” he said with a smirk. He stood up and walked around you almost scanning you. “what's the real reason your here?” he asked behind you. “truly i am here to talk to you” you repeated with a straight face and shrug. “then talk” he said bending down right in front of your face. his breath ghosting over your face and his long wavy hair falling in his face. “your a god you live for years on end tell me loki, how old are you?” you asked. loki gave a smile before standing “my age? that's what you came for?” he huffed. “ill answer your questions if you answer mine” he said in return

you turned around facing him “i don't answer questions” you said with a shrug “oh come on doctor i know your other patients didn't just comply with your questioning” he said with a smirk. he was always smiling or smirking, never a true smile something to show planning, no not planning, anger? no not anger. hurt? yes thats it hes hurt and hides it with his devilish smile. to throw you off to push you away. make you fear him over wanting to know him.

Now the new question was how did he know you were a doctor. well you may not be an official doctor but you were one of sorts. You had been in college to get a phycology degree until fury swept you up making you work for him. you tilted your head alarming the god you were lost on his accusation. “oh dear as you said i am a god you don't think i could fall for your tricks and lies like the others did you?” he asked walking to you “doll only i make the tricks here” he said holding your jaw. “now we play by my rules” he said with another smile. “stop” you said. his smile widened “stop smiling” you said. you saw a hint of confusion wash over before it was erased with another smirk “why doll?” he asked. “because its a lie” you said. loki's face became serious “you talk of lies yet you wouldn't tell me why your here” he said walking around the room.

“Fine i'm here to evaluate you” you said simply “now will you answer my questions?” you asked. “I have been just not the ones you want the answer to.” he replied. “agree to my terms and ill be more than willing to answer you” he said with a sarcastic smile “i ask the questions not you” you replied. he shrugged laying back down reading his book again. you only had an hour with him so you had no choice but to comply with his rules or you'll get nowhere but you also didn't want the god to think he could just boss you around and throw a fit.

you shrugged picking up your bag walking out of the room. “1,054″ you said blankly. you turned confused “my age” he said still reading. you nodded walking back in “one question” you said sitting down. he smirked still looking at the book but not reading it “well start simple. name?” he asked. “y/n” you replied. “y/n....mmm now y/n why are you here?” he asked sitting up. “to evalu-” you started to say before he cut you off “why are you here?” he asked “were not doing this loki i said one question” you said standing back up. your hour was almost over. “what happened doctor don't like a taste of your own medicine?” he asked with a dark smile. “why do you do that? smile so much?” you asked. “you tell me you said it was a lie which means you've made your own deductions of it so tell me doc why do i smile so much?” he asked tilting his head.

“to make people uncomfortable. they see you smile this mischievous smile a smile that they expect from the god of mischief. you become what people expect of you so they stay away now why you push people you don't know away i'm not quiet sure on but i assume it has something to do with your spite for odin” you said simply. loki gave a wide smile standing up “well well well doc, you are utterly” he said behind you getting close to your ear “wrong” he said simply straightening backup. “now you well i do have so many things to say about you” he said moving in front of you. “you evaluate people thinking you know everything about them so much more than they know themself, from body language to words to the crime they commited. but i my dear am simply a king who deserved a throne and would fight for it” he said sitting back down “hours up doll better leave before your trapped in here” he said looking at you with another smile.

Walking back up you felt unnerved. the god had a weird aura to him like he could read your mind. granted he may actually be able to in which case you need to be more careful about such things. you walked to your room feeling empty and drained. you fell back on the bed rubbing your face. the odinsons had given you your own quarters while you stayed there. there was knock on the door and you groaned “its open” you replied and the door opened revealing yet another god, a kinder one. Thor walked over sitting next to you “how was loki?” he asked. “loki was....exactly how yall described him” you sighed. thor griminced he hoped his brother would behave “did you get anything out of him?” he asked. “just his age which is useless it was more a test to see if he'd comply with me. think he got more out of me than i of him” you said looking up at thor.

“give him time. my brother can be...difficult but your a legend at this so you should do well it may take longer than usual but you'll get it” thor said cheerfully. you gave a small smile. you wanted to believe that you truly did but honestly you weren't sure. “loki sure is a strange guy” you said sitting up “Well he's not a guy hes a god such as i and he was raised by my mother” he said to you.

“get some rest i bet you'll do much better tomorrow” he said with a smile walking out. you sighed and changed, laying bed you felt sleep take over.

you stood in a black room seeing your parents smiling faces “mom? dad? you said with a smile. you started to run to them before blood dripped from there eyes and they slowly faded away. you stepped back feeling empty once again. you heard a chuckle and turned seeing loki laugh and roll his eyes before vanishing too

You awoke with a small scream and your heart racing. you were drenched in sweat and tears streamed down your face. once you calmed you growled launching up from bed and walking down to the dungeon storming past the assholes shouting crude things at you. you stood at loki's cell banging on the wall “hey asshole” you said blatantly. “well hello to you too doll isnt this a shocker” he said with another smile god how you wanted to slap that smile off his face “shut up” you said. loki sat up looking at you “well what can i do for you?” he asked. “your not supposed to have you powers in here” you said with a stern face

loki tilted his head in mock confusion “why i don't” he said voice dripping in sarcastic hurt as if offended by such accusations. “don't lie you bastard! You were in my head i know it you know it so let's just both know it” you yelled at him. His smile widened “ok darling but see i do have one question left unanswered. how did your parents die?” he asked stepping to the glass. “they didn't it was simply a nightmare” you groaned.

“no no see people who dream of the death unprompted feel pain,sadness,fear they try to stop it you well you felt nothing you just...stood there” he said looking down at you. “so how was it they died?” he asked. “if you can get in my head then you sure as shit know” you said looking down at the floor. you really did not want to speak of it.

“of course i do doll but i want to hear you say it” he said leaning on the glass. “i will not play into your game” you said storming off “you still hear it dont you? their screams” he said. “i do” he said after

you turned “pardon?” you asked walking back to him. “have a nice night darling” he said smiling walking back to his couch. “but you said-” you were cut off by the sounds of footsteps “oi you are not to be down here madam” the man said walking to you “oh yes sorry i must have sleep walked” you replied walking upstairs back to your bed.

laying down your head felt as if it was spinning. This was going to be an interesting roller coaster wasn't it.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #MCU #MCU fanfiction #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tom hiddleston

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bittydragon · 4 years

Text

Blame the Cookies

Notes: Lemme tell y’all, this one was fun to write. This combination of humans and borrowers for the Sleepy Bois is probably one of my favorites (maybe that’s why it’s this combination for Minicraft-). These dumbasses have my heart. Fun fact: the title of the doc I wrote this on before I had a title was literally “Dumbass T!Tommy and T!Wilbur (But like lovingly)”. Just in case y’all find that entertaining. Cause I don’t remember titling it that. I wrote that at like midnight a couple days ago and when I went to finish writing the story that’s the title I came back to.

On most days, Wilbur would never have allowed Tommy to go borrowing. Tommy was rather reckless and put the two borrowers into enough close calls for comfort. Tommy had come to the point of accepting that Wilbur did the borrowing. Instead, Tommy was given the task of protecting their little home in the walls. He has actually gotten rather good and could make a mean trap and take down a small rat. The latter was a fact they found out by pure accident and one they did not want to repeat.

Today was not most days. Tommy found himself strapping his needle to his belt, along with a new borrowing hook that Wilbur gave to him that morning. Apparently, Wilbur was super proud of the progress they made together in establishing their new home and that he felt they deserved a small reward for themselves. It had taken them around three months to have everything in order and perfect, but it was worth the wait. Plus, Tommy isn’t going to pass up an opportunity to go borrowing.

“You all ready, Tommy?” Tommy glanced up to see his brother leaning against the entrance to their little hole. Wilbur had a fond smile on his face and Tommy couldn’t help but return the smile as he stood up with his stuff.

“Yep! All ready for our borrowing trip!” He bounded over to Wilbur. Wilbur chuckled and ruffled Tommy’s hair, earning himself a small whine.

“Let’s go then, you little gremlin child.” Tommy didn’t even complain about the nickname, too focused on the fact that he was actually going borrowing. It may not be borrowing alone, but Wilbur is bringing him along for a borrowing trip, and a special one at that. Tommy was still unsure on why it was going to be special but he decided he could wait a few more minutes to find out. He didn’t want to annoy Wilbur and make him regret bringing Tommy along.

Tommy followed Wilbur through the confusing twists and turns of the walls. He was glad Wilbur was with him, he doesn’t go this far out so he would have gotten lost very easily. It felt like a maze in there, but Wilbur seemed to know exactly where they were going.

A few more minutes of stumbling through the walls later, Wilbur stopped at what originally looked like a handhold in the wall. He grabbed it and pulled the wood, sliding it away to reveal a small entrance onto what seemed to be the kitchen counter.

Wilbur peeked out for a moment before gesturing for Tommy to follow him onto the countertop. Tommy did so gladly, taking in the fact that he was actually out and borrowing with his brother.

The two borrowers stopped seemingly in the middle of the counter. Tommy was about to question his brother when Wilbur brought out his hook and threw it expertly upwards. It latched onto a silver handle above them. With a heavy tug, the cabinet door swung slightly open and Wilbur brought his hook back down. He turned to the confused Tommy and gave him a small grin.

“How about you try and land your hook up there for climbing?” Tommy’s expression lit up as he grabbed his hook. He looked at where he was aiming before tossing the hook upwards. It landed on the cabinet shelf but before he could celebrate Wilbur gave it an experimental tug and the hook came falling back down.

“That was a good throw for your first time in a while! You just need to be sure it won’t move. Go ahead and try again.” Tommy turned back to the cabinet and threw the hook once again, focusing more on the hook catching the shelf. This time, it landed on the shelf and hooked slightly into the soft wood. Wilbur smiled and ruffled Tommy’s hair.

“Much better! Think you can climb it now?” Wilbur challenged Tommy. Wilbur threw his own hook up and it hooked right onto the shelf.

“Of course I can climb! I’m not no baby!” With a laugh, the two raced up their strings. Wilbur made it up seconds before Tommy. They both laid down on the shelf for a moment to catch their breaths.

They both sent each other shit-eating grins, too out of breath to use words but getting the message across to one another. They both enjoyed the race.

The borrowers stumbled to their feet a few seconds later and pulled their hooks back up in case someone decided to come into the kitchen. It was easier to hide in the cabinet than scramble to pull the string out of sight if needed.

Wilbur walked towards a strange package as Tommy followed, still thoroughly confused.

“Wilbur, can I please know what we’re doing now?” Tommy decided that if Wilbur wasn’t going to tell him that it was finally time to annoy his brother. They were most likely too close to their goal that Wilbur wouldn’t turn them around now. Wilbur shot Tommy a smug grin.

“Well Tommy, this cabinet has most of the sweeter foods, like those strange squishy fruit things that you liked that one time.” “Really? They have those in here?” Tommy was excited. The only ever time he got to have the strange fruit snack things was in a past house where there were two small children. The other houses they lived in didn’t have any.

The excitement was cut short when they heard voices coming from outside. The borrowers froze for a moment before scrambling to hide behind the nearest object. The strange blue package wasn’t very tall but it was enough for the two borrowers to lay down behind to hide.

“Phil, please. We’ve had popcorn the last three movie nights.” “C’mon, mate! Popcorn is a classic movie snack.” Tommy heard the deeper voiced human groan at the response, eliciting a laugh from the other human. “Alright fine. We still have a package of Oreos, right? We should probably get around to eating those before they get stale. We’ll eat those instead for tonight’s movie night.” A sigh of relief was heard at the statement.

“I can work with that. We can return to popcorn next time. I just need a break from popcorn.” Another laugh sounded from the second human. Tommy could only wonder what the humans were talking about. He didn’t know what popcorn or Oreos were, only that they must be a human snack of some sorts.

The borrowers tensed up when the cabinet door opened up. The door to the cabinet they were hiding in. Tommy watched in horror as a large hand reached in and grabbed the package they were hiding in. Wilbur went wide-eyed and grabbed Tommy’s arm in a tight grip. At this point they could only hope the human just closed the cabinet door and leave instead of looking back in the cabinet.

As it turned out though, they had horrible luck. Both borrowers ended up staring at a big pink haired human, whose gaze was just as shocked as theirs. A few seconds of tense silence followed before the human shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh, Phil. We got, um, tiny people? Uh yea, tiny people in our cabinet.” Wilbur began to frantically look around for somewhere they could escape to. Inside of the cabinet though, there was nowhere for them to escape too, the exit was on the counter. Tommy continued to stare at the human, frozen in place.

“Tiny what now? Do you need sleep, Techno? Are you seeing things mate- Oh.” The other human’s voice softened into a whisper at the sight of the two borrowers. Wilbur pulled Tommy slightly behind him in a protective stance with a small glare. Wilbur was not letting them get Tommy. Tommy only peered over Wilbur’s shoulder in fear and awe of the humans in front of them.

“Are you two alright? You seem very shaken.” Wilbur shifted farther in front of Tommy, only hardening his glare. Tommy knew how fake his confidence was due to how he was shaking, but opted not to say anything.

“Fuck off.”

The borrowers took a step back as the pink haired human let out a sudden bark of laughter. He looked towards the borrowers, specifically Wilbur, and grinned.

“Oh I like you.” A look of confusion spread across Wilbur’s face at that statement. He told the humans to fuck off and one of them ��liked him?’ What was happening?

The blonde human sighed and nudged the pinkette to the side. He looked at the two in the cabinet with a small apologetic look.

“Apologies for my son. He’s a strange one for sure.” The bigger human let out a small, amused huff at that, but said nothing. “My name is Phil. What are you two doing in here?”

“Borrowing.” Wilbur kept his responses short and ignored the human giving them his name. He just wanted false trust from the borrowers before imprisoning them.

Phil tilted his head to the side, much like a bird, in confusion. “Borrowing? What do you mean by that?”

“I think they mean scavenging for food.” Phil and the borrowers turned to the other human in the room. He just gestured at the borrowers. “Phil, they are literally in the food cabinet. Why else would they be in here?” Phil glared at him.

“Techno please. Let them answer.”

Wilbur only continued to keep a straight face and look for any opportunity to escape. He was beginning to realize an opportunity may not come though. They would have to get their hooks out for a safe descent. Jumping from here would certainly kill them.

Tommy watched on as Phil chastised the other human, now identified as Techno, about allowing him and Wilbur to talk. He was confused by these humans. He thought by now they would have been grabbed or thrown into a jar. But the humans were only talking about manners.

It was weird. So Tommy decided to do his own thing.

“Excuse me.” The humans stopped their talking and turned to Tommy. He felt unnerved by the eyes now trained on him. Even Wilbur turned his gaze towards Tommy, completely shocked. Tommy took a deep breath. He got their attention at least.

“I don’t want to drag this out. I’m scared and don’t want me or my brother to be hurt. But,” he took a deep breath, noting the sad look that crossed Phil’s face, “I would like to know what you’re going to do to us.” Even Techno seemed saddened by Tommy’s words. Wilbur just solemnly pulled Tommy into his arms and rubbed his shoulder in what little comfort he could offer.

“Kid, I- we don’t want to hurt you. We’re just confused. It’s not every day you see people who are only as big as your hand, you know?” Tommy was surprised that it was Techno that spoke first. Phil seemed to be in a sad shock still. Tommy just nodded mutely, not too sure how to respond. He could only hope these two weren’t faking.

“If it helps, my name is Techno. Though you may have already known that.” Tommy took a deep breath. If these humans wanted him to trust them, then he would give it a shot.

“My name’s Tommy.”

Techno shot him a small smile and Wilbur squeezed his shoulder. Tommy watched as Phil finally seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. Phil gave the borrowers a soft smile.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Tommy. And you as well, Tommy’s brother.” Wilbur nodded as Phil spoke.

“Wilbur.” Phil smiled softly at that.

“Well then, it’s good to meet you too, Wilbur.” Tommy noticed that Wilbur finally let himself relax a bit more. Trusting the humans seemed to be coming easier and easier. Tommy was glad Wilbur seemed to feel the same way.

They watched as Techno shifted on his feet, moving the package into his left hand. Both borrowers froze as the human slowly reached a hand into the cabinet. He set his hand down in front of the borrowers with his palm facing upwards.

Wilbur was about to pull Tommy deeper into the cabinet until he looked up at the human. Techno actually looked nervous and it seemed like he was trying to look anywhere but at the borrowers.

“I thought you guys would need a lift out of there? Sorry, dumb thought of mine I’ll just-” He cut himself off as Wilbur let go of Tommy and walked towards Techno’s hand. Techno froze and stared at Wilbur. Wilbur glanced up at Techno, aware that the human’s gaze was now trained on him. He took a deep breath before setting his hands onto Techno’s hand and pulling himself onto the hand.

Tommy watched as Wilbur settled down onto the hand before he was lifted closer to the human. He was scared, but seeing the way that Techno looked at his brother in nothing but amazement, he began to relax. He then moved his gaze towards Phil who was looking at Techno and Wilbur with an amazement of his own.

Phil then glanced over to Tommy, who was now standing awkwardly on the cabinet shelf still. Tommy quickly noticed that Phil’s gaze was now on him and moved to stare Phil down. They had a small staring contest until Tommy suddenly lifted his arms in the air, much like a toddler would when they wanted to be picked up.

Phil was frozen for another moment before tentatively moving his hand towards Tommy. He was ready to pull away as soon as Tommy seemed uncomfortable. But Tommy kept a determined look on his face and allowed Phil’s hand to wrap around his body and lift him upwards. Phil settled Tommy onto his other hand and stared at Tommy in awe. Tommy couldn’t help but smile.

The four of them stayed in silence for another minute, just taking in the whole situation. Eventually, Techno broke the silence by clearing his throat. He was looking anywhere but at Wilbur. Tommy assumed Wilbur caught the human staring at him in awe based off of Wilbur’s amused smirk.

“I think movie night is off, but um, we can still sit on the couch and eat cookies?” Phil smiled and nodded.

“Yea, sounds like a good idea. You two alright with this?” Tommy nodded excitedly up at Phil while Wilbur just gave a short nod. Tommy seemed to trust these humans rather quickly.

The humans made their way to the living room and sat side by side on the couch, borrowers in hand. The rest of the night was filled with soft spoken conversations and laughter as the borrowers tried the Oreos that got them caught in the first place. For such an evil cookie they tasted very good. Tommy decided they weren’t so evil though because the humans seemed nice enough.

As it got later into the night, it also became apparent that everyone was getting tired. It was also becoming apparent that nobody wanted to move as well.

Techno had shifted so that he was laying with his head in Phil’s lap and Wilbur hugged close to his chest like a stuffed animal. Phil was leaning against the armrest with his hand over Tommy positioned on his chest, completely passed out. They all fell asleep on the couch without a word.

And when they all woke up on the couch in the morning, nobody said anything about it. They all acted as if it was a normal everyday situation. And if more cuddle sessions happened in the future, nobody said anything about those either.

100 notes · View notes

enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Mercury in Retrograde

Rating: Mature Relationship: Imposter Monster x F!Crewmate Warning: Violence, Murder, Attemptive murder, blood mention, mourning, comfort, Red is sus

Word Count:5407

Murders on the ship causes chaos among the crewmates

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A crewmates' job is never done. Lights to fix, destinations to set, filters to clean. Everyone plays an important role in a spaceship like ours. It's humbling in its own right, to work as a unit to reach a common goal. No one is against another, all are part of a team. With 18 workers on a supply ship, it's impressive that everyone is working so harmoniously.

Electrical work is shockingly my favorite chore. Many are scared of the isolated room but I find solace in having some alone time. I connect wires, humming to myself before clicking the panel shut. Walking over to the tablet to let admin know everything is up and operational I faintly hear the doors whoosh open. I toss a look over my shoulder to the dim room, looking over the fuse box. I hear nothing, not even faint footsteps. Curious, I step away from the tablet.

"Hello," I call into the room. I walk closer, slowly revealing the other half of the room. My heart nearly slows to a snail's pace, tension morphing my previously lax posture. My feet clank against the metal floors, echoing around the light hum of the machines. I turn the corner, the door coming into view slowly. I open my mouth to call again when someone steps into view, grabbing my shoulders. I yelp, jumping before backing out of their hold. I look up to a sort of familiar face.

"You alright, B," they ask," I didn't mean to startle you." I take a deep breath, rubbing at my chest to soothe my racing heart.

"All is well, just wasn't expecting you to be around the corner," I chuckle," you are a quiet man, Wes."

"Yea," they huff," I get that a lot."

I straight myself, chuckling once more before walking towards the door. It opens at my proximity, staying open as I pause and look over my shoulder.

"I'm heading up to Nav," I wave," see you later, Wes" they wave stiffly, staying into the partially lit room. I twist away with a pep in my step, walking out to my next chore.

Days on the ship feel like they mix together, no one really understanding what day it is. A lot of the crew break up the monotony with game nights, scheduling them for the same day of the week. It's a fun little get together that a good group of people take part in. great conversation and comradery with some cards and snacks. I take part in the activities once in a while, catching up with my fellow coworkers. It's nice.

Another Friday comes and a small group gathers in the cafeteria. Everyone is jovial; teasing, and joking with one another. We bet meal passes and favors, adding some stakes to the games. Just another casual game night.

I look to my cards, thinking on my next bet. My hand isn't good but what they don't know won't hurt them. I call, setting my cards down the same time the door opens. A few of us look over, spotting Wes walking over. He takes a chair outside the circle, sitting at a distance in favor of watching.

"hey," I catch his attention," you wanna play next round?" Wes looks to me startled, taking a tad too long to answer.

"No," he crosses his arms," I'm good."

"Wes doesn't like playing with us peasants," Rebel answers. His loud boisterous voice carries around the room, his laugh just as bad. The large man has been wrecking shop as of lately. He is a poor excuse for a coworker, not that he doesn't do his jobs but does them poorly. A few of us have tried to keep game night out of his mind, 'accidentally' forgoing reminding him.

"It doesn't hurt to try," I shrug," more players means more asses to kick in this game." I get a few chuckles and a snort from Wes. I'll take that as a win.

The night progresses until we are nearly tired of playing. As I'm ready to call last round another person walks into the room, leaning against a table as she comes in. she is panting and wheezing, sweat making her hair stick to her face. We all begin to stand, looking confused and worried at one another.

"Penelope," someone calls," you alright?"

"he's dead," she mumbles. We all stiffen, the room snapping in tension.

"Whose dead," another asks.

"Greg is dead," she says louder, jerking her head up to look at us all," I can't…I was… oh god." she falls to a seat, cradling her body as she shakes.

We all look around, confusion decorating our faces. Rebel looks to Wes, giving a strange look to the man. Wes sneers, turning away with a jerk of his head. A few workers walk over to Penelope, comforting her, while others leave to investigate.

The rest of the week is tense as the investigation is taken place. As a first look, we all knew Greg's death was no accident. Nothing on this ship could rip up a man the way he was torn apart. The coms room he was found in was locked off for a while, only confirmed personnel allowed in. everyone is on high alert, tiptoeing around one another. Some stick to a tight circle of friends, traveling in groups to avoid suspicion and attacks.

It's not till a few days later that another attack is reported. Two people were found dead in medical. The three deaths send the whole ship on lockdown. Everyone is to be kept in groups and no one is to be walking around after curfew. The previously peaceful ship is now left in shambles of panic and stress.

My stomach rumbles as I sit alone in my bunk. It's annoying in its own right to not be able to walk to the cafeteria on my own. Now having to contact some friends to walk with me. I manage to scrounge up two people to walk with. Lindon and Oliver.

"While we are in the cafeteria you guys don’t mind watching me while I deal with the trash," Oliver asks as we walk to the halls.

"Not at all, I'm just glad to be out of my room for a while," Lindon stretches, yawning as he talks.

I huff," I know what you mean. At first, I enjoyed going to my room at the end of the day but now I relish in the work just to be able to walk around."

We chat amiably as we grab food. It feels almost normal amongst the chaos to just talk with friends. I can almost put the deaths behind me and pretend everything is normal.

Oliver walks over to the trash shoot as Lindon and I talk a bit more. We all head out towards storage, leaving Oliver to lead as Lindon and I joke around.

"Buck tried to screw around with shields and ended up turning them off, like how! It's the easiest system to work with on this whole damn ship," Lindon laughs.

"Buck just needs to stick to weapons and never touch anything else," I snort, chuckling along with them. I barely watch as Oliver turns the corner on the storage bins. We follow after him, laughing all the while. Before I can turn the corner I get a ping to my device and lights flash around the room.

"Something wrong with the reactor," I mumble, nervously looking towards the hall," You don't mind sticking with Oliver while I go check?"

Lindon waves his hand," that's fine, be careful though. Just scream really loud if you see something." I scoff, smiling at them before I walk down the hall. I jog up to the reactor and meet up with another crew member. Yasha waves before heading to the opposite side of the room. We both quickly clear the machine, meeting each other at the door.

"That's weird, right," I ask, thumbing behind me towards the large reactor.

They shrug," it's happened once or twice, it's when the alarms go off that it's serious."

"huh," I nod," Hey, you don't mind walking with me back to storage. I left Oliver and Lindon there to finish up some chores."

"I don't mind at all," they answer.

We silently walk towards storage, heading towards trash. Yasha pauses at the door, waving bye as I walk around. I casually look around the bins, ready to catch sight of the two. As I look over I don't see two people, instead of two masses on the floor.

"Oh my god," I gasp, startling back at the blood pooling over the floor. I gawk, staring wide-eyed at the bloody bodies sitting close together on the floor. I can't think, barely breathe as I just stare.

"B," someone shouts," What did you do?"

I jerk my head over to the small group of people crowding the hall from coms. An older man leads the charge, glaring daggers at me with great accusations sitting on his tongue. Behind him is Rebel, staring blankly towards me, and Penelope. I sputter, not knowing what to say.

"i-," I try to speak. I give up, knowing any excuse would lead to more distrust.

I make it by with the skin of my teeth. Yasha is the saving grace with an alibi that explains where I was beforehand. The meeting was filled with shouting and harsh accusations. People formed terrible reasons and false sightings of where I was during each murder. It's awful.

I sit in the cafeteria alone, nursing a drink that Yasha had stashed away before we launched. I owe them my life, helping me by speaking up. Though I now live day by day with accusing glares and harsh words. It's fine, I'm alive and not launched off the ship for murder. God, what has my life become?

As I take a sip, relishing in the bitter taste, someone grabs a chair beside me. I wince at the sound of the chair scraping, preparing myself for a confrontation. No one has been so bold to corner me but what do I know of these people? One of them is a murderer.

"You doing alright," they ask. I look to them, confused at the concerned question. Wes leans against the table, fidgeting with his thumbs.

I look to his hands then back to his unemotional face," What?"

"Are you alright," he asks again. I watch him, looking for some mischief or distrust. He remains blank, just watching me without a tick or twitch.

I scoff, turning back to my drink," why would you care? Looking for more pointless evidence to get me shot out?" I suck down the rest of the liquid, shotgunning it in hopes of being more amicable to this conversation.

"No," he huffs," I know you didn't do it."

I side-eye him," really?" he nods, fiddling with his thumbs instead of speaking. I watch him pick at his nail, scratching down the side of his finger aggressively. "You ok," I ask, watching the red whelps litter his finger in clawed lines. He freezes, tugging his hands back and leaving them on his lap.

"I'm fine, just been itchy lately," he mumbles. I nod, dropping the subject in favor of watching the empty glass in my hand.

"Why don't you think it's me," I suddenly ask, preparing myself for an answer I won't like.

He shrugs," I just have my guesses."

I look to him," humor me, why don't you think it's me?"

"Do you want me to think it's you," he nearly smiles," doesn't seem smart if you are in fact innocent."

"Yea," I huff," I guess your right." we sit in silence once more. I swirl my finger at the top of the glass, too busy thinking.

"You're too nice," he answers. I snort, looking to him amused.

"You think I'm too nice to murder anyone?"

He nods," you are too nice to everyone to have the guts to kill them."

I humor him," wouldn't that be a perfect plan? Lower their guard so they feel safe around me?"

"well, that would make you a psycho instead of a murderer," he slides down his chair, laxer.

"What's the difference," I turn fully towards him.

He crosses his arms, thinking before answering," a psycho would enjoy the kills while a murderer sees them as walls in the way."

"You think the killer is trying to reach a goal," I ask. He stiffens, looking to the floor.

"it's just a guess," he shrugs.

"It’s a particularly specific guess," I lean towards him. He just shrugs again, looking like he rather be anywhere but here. I watch him, suspicion forming in my mind.

"Why are you here," I ask instead. His eyes flick around the room, looking from one spot to another. He scratches at his hand harder, short little flicks of his finger.

"I was worried about you," he says," everyone is ostracizing you and I don't want you to be alone while he is out there."

"who is out there," I try to catch him in a lie.

He stutters, opening his mouth before closing it. The accusation sits heavy in my chest. It can't be Wes, but it really could be. If it's true then I'm in complete danger being alone in here with him. I look to the door. How long will it take to reach the door before he can run up and grab me? Could I make it while he is stuttering over his words?

As I think, he touches my knee. I jump, snapping to him with wide startled eyes. His previous anxiety seems to have melted away to a calm composure, almost sympathetic and compassionate composure.

"B, I just want you to know that I will keep you safe from whoever is out there," he says seriously," you all will catch them and everyone will think of this as a bad dream. Just keep your head up and don't go anywhere alone."

"o-ok," I stand from my chair," I'm going to head back to my room now." I walk across the room before he can answer, trying to keep some self-control until I reach my bed.

"Wait," he calls out," let me walk you back." I stop, back tense, and shoulders near my ears. His footsteps lead up to me, stopping just beside me.

We walk out the cafeteria towards my room, the silence deafening the empty hall. Each step is taken with anxious effort. I wait for a pen to drop so I can dart away from him. I know he is tense too, keeping a bit of a distance from me. I can't tell if he is waiting for an opening or he truly meant what he said. Either way, I cannot tame my racing heart.

I spot my door and relief nearly makes me sigh. As we step closer I hear voices down the hall. Around the corner, two figures walk towards us. As they near I can make out two familiar faces, Rebel and Casey. Casey is giggling at whatever Rebel said to her. Rebel's face is cocky, arrogant even. As they pass Rebel throws an arm over Casey and winks to us.

I can't pay them any mind as I quickly try to open my door and head inside. Looking over my shoulder I watch Wes sneer down the hall, nibbling on his lip when he looks to the floor.

"Uh, thanks," I nod," night."

He jerks his head towards me," Night."

And the night ends there. Sighs of relief and suspicions.

Slowly but surely people start dropping like flies. Solo kills all around the ship makes our numbers dwindle till we are nearing single digits. People start accusing me more till they start following me around and realize I have nothing to do with it. The previously split crew has become a closer unit, the commander getting everyone left to sleep in the cafeteria. It's hard to kill someone with so many eyes watching.

I look to the room hardly filled with people. The commander sits with three others, talking amongst themselves. Wes and Rebel sit in a group of two others. A few stranglers stress out around the edge, like me. We all wait patiently, none of us wanting to lose someone again.

My eyes grow heavy as I sit leaning against the wall. I look at the group, watching them all sleep or lay in their little cots. If there was ever a time to act it would be now. To sneak around and slit the throat of a dreaming crewmate. I can't fall asleep, someone will die. I keep reminding myself that until my eyes burn.

As my lids nearly close an alarm rings around the room. Playing for just a few seconds before we are all collapsed into darkness. People scream and shuffle, everyone awake. I shoot up from my spot, not being able to see in the utter darkness. Only a few stars visible from the giant window offer guidance. I quickly get out my tablet, turning it on for light and information. I click wildly, finding that light fuses have been tripped.

I try to open my mouth to scream to the crew what the problem is but they are all still shouting and screaming. I grind my teeth, not liking what I have to do now. Without thinking it for too long I hug the edge of the room and head towards electrical.

The tablet only lights a few feet in front of me, and only in front of me. I listen to the fading yells of the cafeteria and try to focus on if anyone is following me. My heart is ready to burst from my chest as I round the corner and spot the doors to my destination. I don't wanna be here, by the heavens I don't wanna be here. Swiftly I rush to the door, opening it forcefully as I slip inside. I'm nearly hyperventilating as I shine my light on the switches before me.

"Just turn them off then on, simple," I mumble to myself. I flick the switches with stumbling fingers, hands shaking with the mountain of stress. I stiffen as I hear a high screech noise from beyond the room. Waiting, I listen on. My finger hovers on the last switch but if it’s the killer perhaps I can use the cover of darkness to flee. Listening closely I hear nothing. Quickly I flick the final switch.

I sigh in minimal relief, knowing I still have the trek back to the cafeteria before me. With a courage-building breath, I turn around. Red fills my vision until I look up at a horridly stretched out face. I faintly notice the familiar stubble and bushy eyebrows of a strongly disliked crewmate. His cheeks are ripped, his right cut leading up over his eye. Writhing tentacles stretch out the large gash.

"Hello morsel," he says in a guttural vicious voice. I jump, falling back against the fuse box. His lower body splits, a larger tentacles slithering out to lash at my person. Thinking quickly I jump to the side, not looking back as I craw further into the room. I realize my mistake as I scramble towards a corner. He notices as well, chuckling in a nonhuman laugh.

I clamber towards a wall of wire and panels, turning so my back presses firmly against it. I look to Rebel, panicking as I try to figure something-anything- out. I look around the room, trying to find any weapon as this monstrous creature prowls closer.

"No way out," he teases," nowhere to go." his stomach appendage slithers on the ground towards me, wrapping around my ankle. He tugs softly, allowing me to fight effortlessly. I cry out, jerking my leg towards myself. He laughs, pulling harder so I may fall onto my back. I claw at the ground, my nails bending backward as I try to find purchase.

"Please," I whimper, not knowing if I'm talking to him or a higher power. He steps between my feet, laughing as he leans down. I clench my eyes closed, bracing myself.

"No one is going to-," he doesn't finish. My leg jerks a bit but I remain still. A loud thud follows shortly after and a shout. I open my eyes slowly, looking ahead into the room with unease. Standing before me is a man, seething with fist clenched at their side. Beyond them is Rebel propped on his elbow, having been forced to the floor.

"What the hell," Rebel shouts. The man in the white shirt says nothing, merely glaring down at the …thing. Rebel gets up from the floor, his face forming once more into a hateful sneer. His stomach tentacle writhes in the air, threatening without action. The man takes a step back, looking over his shoulder briefly before keeping eyes on his opponent.

"Wes," I whisper to myself," what are you doing here! You have to run!" I try to warn him, clambering to stand as he faces the monster down. Wes remains still, waiting on Rebel.

"You wish to do this," Rebel asks. As Wes doesn't answer Rebel shrugs," Suit yourself." before anyone can react Rebel's tentacle shoots out and wraps around Wes's arm. Wes leans back, fighting against the grip. It's in vain as the limb pops and rips at the shoulder. I can see the light shine between the sinew trying to hold on but to no avail. It snaps, detaching completely into Rebel's grip. I don't have time to gasp before the arm wriggles and writhes, lashing out farther than I thought possible. The fingers spin into a single appendage, wrapping around Rebel's arm.

"What," I gasp, looking to Wes' body. Where his arm was previously is a mass of wriggling tentacles.

I can't process anything. Watching blankly as the two fight. The scene is straight out of a monster flick, reminding me of a movie that takes place in the arctic. The bodies morph and slash, normal proportions of a human being stretches and rips. Its something I know I'll never forget till the day I die, which I hope won't be soon.

The writhing mass I believe to be Wes grabs at two points on Rebel, lifting him up and pulling. The stomach gash rips loudly, some of the tentacles caught at the two points tear as well, popping as the tension relieves. Soon Rebel is torn in two, writhing and screaming. Wes keeps tearing, splitting the half into smaller halves. It's when the mess stops moving does Wes stop, standing above the destruction.

Everything is silent, only the sound of my panicked breathing is heard. I watch Wes, not knowing what is going to happen next. Is he going to turn to me next? Surely no one kills a murderer just to turn and kill the victim.

"Wes," I ask gently, stepping towards him cautiously. He twitches, his body snapping into place with shocking speed. I gasp, startling back. He looks over his shoulder, a bit of blood on his cheek catching the light.

"you ok," he asks.

"I gue- yea," I answer," a-are you?" he nods, turning fully to me. His shirt is covered in blood and rips, though no injuries of his own. As I curiously look for any bruises, cut, gashes, he walks over. He crowds me to the wall of wires, grabbing my arm and looking me over.

"He didn't do anything? When you were out of the room I quickly got in the vents and headed here. God, I was so worried when I didn't see him in the cafeteria," he sighs, dropping my arm and leaning his head to my shoulder. The concern is confusing. I awkwardly raise my hand to his hair, petting him.

"well, I'm fine now," I mumble, more worried about the alien resting against my body.

"Good," he nuzzles towards my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me close. My heart beats hard, my breath is shaky. I want to push him away, fight him off. Raising my arm I touch his shoulder, prepared to force him back.

"Wes," I start, a shakiness to my words.

"I won't hurt you," he mumbles," you are safe with me, B." he presses a kiss to my neck, tender and sweet. I stiffen, worried for a new reason. I wait for a reaction, wait for some more 'affections' that tell me his true intention. Instead, he just holds me. I fall for the charm, exhausted above all else. Falling lax in his hold, I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my face against his neck.

The crew search around the ship and soon come to Wes and me. They first see the bloody body, a true mess upon the floor, then us cuddling in the corner. Questions are thrown around before we are even taken back to the cafeteria. We answer, me doing most of the talking, telling them all about what happened. I leave a few details out, looking to Wes with concern. This crew has been on edge all week and will not take kindly to another alien aboard their ship.

With everything sorted out and the body launched into space things settle back to normal. We make way to heading back to base to finally put this behind us. It’s a lot quieter now as we all take the time to grieve and collect our thoughts.

I lay in bed next to Wes, laying shoulder to shoulder as we look to the ceiling. It's nice to finally have a moment alone with him, to ask the questions plaguing my mind since the fight. Yet, sitting here is all I can manage. We get some much-needed rest, seeking comforting in the other's company. Now, we lay here in silence.

"Wes," I barely whisper. He hums," you’re an alien?" it was a dumb question but I need to hear him say it.

He turns to me," Compared to you, yes." I nod, still staring at the ceiling.

"Why did you save me," I ask. He sighs, turning onto his side to look at my better.

"I like you," he shrugs," I didn't want you to be killed like the others, it felt like a greater loss than the gain of your death." I squint, snapping to him.

"What gain," I ask.

"Capture the ship," he answers," we stowed away when you all first departed. The supplies here would benefit my people but it's more along the lines of greed than necessity. It felt like an easy task."

"Wes," I nearly scoot away from him," did you kill my crewmates?" we stare into each other's eyes with great determination. Seeming to be a battle of wills, who will bow first to such an important question. He caves first, sighing as he twists back onto his back.

"yes," he answers simply.

"who."

"Not sure, I don't remember most of your names," he says," Rebel killed more people than me though, I got around five. I didn't have as much enjoyment as he did in the job. He was a true psycho, I was just a murderer."

His confession sits unwell in my chest. I want to run out of the room, not lay next to someone who killed my friends. Yet, I feel too exhausted. He saved my life, but that won't excuse him. It just numb. I feel him turn to me once more, I can't bring myself to look back.

"Say something," he requests. I sigh, closing my eyes.

"It hurts," I mumble. My heart feels like is being squeezed, like the weight of their death is sitting on my chest. Is it wrong to sit so companionly next to their killer? A change of heart cannot excuse the sins of the past. Either way, I can't ignore him or walk away. The trauma feels shared although it's not. He was there in the end, that should count for something.

"I'm sorry," he sighs," if I could take it back I would."

"I know," I say. We sit there, quiet once more. He watches me, I can feel his eyes on my face. I'm not sure what he is doing, checking my reactions, or finding joy in just looking to me. The chance of manipulation is there, though I can hardly believe he would do that. Just leave me to Rebel's abuse and there would be no need for trust-building. I don't know what to do.

"B," he breaks the quiet.

"yes?"

"can I touch you," he asks. My eyes suddenly open. I turn to look at him, confused at the request, and confused at the timid way he asked. He looks shy, worried at the potential of my response. It melts my heart, easing the grip the deaths have caused. I turn to my side, inches away from his face.

"Ok." Wes eagerly reaches out and touches my face. His fingers dance over my cheek, nose, mouth. He watches his hands with great interest.

"Soft," he mumbles. His fingers trail to my hair, grabbing a strand between his fingers.

As his curiosity is soothed he wraps an arm over my waist and pulls me close. I cuddle against his chest, resting a hand on his pec. As I sit there I notice he doesn't have a heartbeat. I hear nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.

"Wes," I start," what do you really look like?"

He shrugs," not like anything describable. I just mimic things, I don't really have a body."

"just a blob of tentacles," I jokingly ask. He snorts, squeezing me closer.

"Not too far off," he smiles," but I have more flesh than just a pile of worms. But for now, I look like this, this is my body." I pet his chest, trailing down under his shirt to touch at his stomach. He jumps, the muscles of his body flexing. The tips of my fingers gently glide over him, feeling the strangely rough skin. I slowly make my way up to his chest once more, laying my palm flat against him.

"This is you," I nod," alright." I fall lax once more to the bed, keeping my hand against him. It's quiet for now. The words rest in his head, seemingly accepted and approved of. It almost feels like the conversation is over.

"Do you hate me," he asks suddenly, saying it like he wasn't intending to ask. It's a question I've been asking myself. Could I hate someone who saved my life, tearing apart their partner in crime to protect me? I think the answer depends on what he is to do from now on. Would he leave to attack another ship or…

"Will you leave? Will you go to another ship and repeat what happened here," I ask guarded.

"No," he answers quickly," I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?"

He bumps his head to mine," will not." I look to his eyes, feeling the sincerity in them. It's odd seeing such feeling on someone previously so blank.

"Are you going to stay and work?"

"Is that what you want? For me to stay and work with you," his fingers twitch on my waist, his nerves shining through.

"With me or without me, I'd like you to work," I answer. He grips me a bit tighter, his lip twitching near disgust.

"I rather work with you than anyone else," he says. I pet at his chest, soothing the ire he seems to try to hide.

"Ok," I nod," if that's what you want then you can work with me."

Reaching that agreement I lull back into the security he gives. I feel like falling asleep, relishing in the warmth of his hug. I allow myself to stop thinking, ignoring any ideas and doubts that try to pop up. My eyes slowly fall until I'm nearly asleep.

"Do you hate me," he asks again, his low rumble forcing me back awake. I keep my eyes shut, snuggling closer to him.

"No," I say firmly," I don't hate you." he hums, cradling me with a kiss to my forehead. I bite back a smile, not ready to give him the satisfaction.

"Thank you."

We fall asleep once more, ignoring the lingering issues and just feeling some sort of peace.

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Yep, I wrote this. It is 100% for me and I stand by this garbage fire, it will keep me warm in the winter. It was so fun writing this trash heap that i may write another with a far more aggressive Imp who has a soft spot for his crewmate.

Won’t count to my weekend post cause this was thrown together at 2am.

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#among us #comfort #red is sus #exophilia #Monster #tentacle monster #The thing reference #monster boyfriend #two imps #Enigma-IM

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