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gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes · 9 months ago

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The Shield Bearer - Rated E, WWII Stucky, Canon era, Hurt/Comfort

It wasn’t that Bucky was staring at Steve’s ass, per se. It was the item in the man’s back pocket that held his gaze; the paperback Steve read whenever they stopped to rest, eyes gone distant as he pondered its contents. Bucky couldn’t help but see his Steve Rogers in that dreamy face.

The book was there now even as Steve graciously and generously doled out handshakes and cheek kisses. Bucky observed that his hand went to it exactly twenty-two times to reassure himself it was still there. He also noticed that Steve seemed completely sober.

He’d always been a lightweight, literally, back home. One good swig of a beer would damn near make him tip over. Two cans in, and he’d have been falling down on his face. Bucky had lost track of the times he’d picked Steve up by the scruff of his neck and marched him home before he picked a fight he couldn’t win.

“Whatcha doin,’ Buck?” he’d complain, tripping over his feet to keep up. “I’m fine, I tell ya!’ Fine!”

Bucky would shake his head and guide Steve out of traffic and back onto the sidewalk. “Sure ya’ are, pal.”

It wasn’t like that now. Bucky had witnessed with his own eyes as the man downed six cans in a matter of minutes to quench his thirst. And then a glass of something that smelled stronger than gasoline was pushed into his hand. Then another. And another. And still Steve looked out of the clearest blue-green eyes as he checked for Bucky’s location.

It was unnatural.

It was also infuriating. Why did Steve have to keep looking at him like that? He had everything he wanted; fame, money, admiration. Everyone thought him a hero; he could practically take on the whole of the Axis countries himself. What was so important about a loser he once knew back in New York?

Bucky moved further away, stationing himself by the exit behind a chattering, guffawing group of soldiers. They were leaning against each other and laughing, racing along in their own tongue and ignoring Bucky.

But Steve found him once again, with that large hand on his hip, checking that the book sat snug in the tightness of his stupid uniform. He’d repositioned between two men who had begun to sing at raucous decibels, trying to connect with Bucky’s soul.

And Bucky felt it then, the twist in his chest that had nothing to do with hunger. He’d skipped the alcohol and figs and bread, knowing full well that others needed it more than he. No, this was something to do with matters of the heart.

Bucky was proud of Steve. The bastard.

The woman who grabbed Steve’s arm next was gorgeous. In fact, every woman they’d met since arriving in Greece was. Her hair was a sleek brown and her eyes warm and she gazed up at Steve like he was —

Bucky had to get out of there. Fast.

It was cooler outside between the two-story buildings. The alley was narrow and open to the stars. Bucky hurried to the end, turning onto the dusty street, hoping Steve had been too preoccupied to see him go.

He walked fast. It was dark now. The city was under the protection of the rebels, so he needn’t worry about running into the enemy. The problem was the enemy was also himself.

Maybe he could lose himself for a while. Find an unoccupied corner for a few hours, a patch of ground that was his alone. Maybe he could unscramble these feelings he had. Get a grip on something he didn’t understand at all.

A few streets away, he encountered a woman with sun-wrinkled skin, her gray hair covered in a shawl, carrying a lamp and a full bag swung over her shoulder. She took one look at Bucky and froze. Her hand covered her mouth and she began backing away. But not before she gave him a lashing at the top of her voice.

Bucky held up his hands to signal he wasn’t a threat, but it was too late. She’d already determined he was untrustworthy. Around them, people began gathering. Apparently, she’d sounded the alarm, and they’d come to her rescue.

Two stern-looking gentlemen approached without fear while the woman continued to shout. It was clear they intended to confront him. Bucky struggled for the words that Gabe had attempted to teach him.

“Friend!” he tried in what he knew to be a horrible accent. “America! Soldier!”

The men recognized the last word, for their intent to protect solidified on their concerned faces. If Bucky didn’t identify himself soon, if he wasn’t successful in convincing them he meant no harm —

Too late, he was caught. Strong hands held him back as the crowd approached. It didn’t look good at all.

And then?

A voice. Impossibly deep, a rumble of thunder that parted the throng and commanded their attention.

Eyes swiveled, heads turned as the newcomer pushed his way through. He was speaking their language, and they were listening. And when the man slapped a gigantic hand to Bucky’s shoulder and smiled like the fucking sun, the two men released their hold and stood as if dumbfounded.

Bucky didn’t dare move for fear of breaking the spell. This was Steve, but it wasn’t. He’d been approached by an imposter, a body double, an unknown.

The old woman, shorter than most of the others, pushed her way through to the middle. There, she glared up at Steve, challenging him in her loud, gravelly voice. Rogers listened, nodding his head, and then spoke again. He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. The street went quiet.

The woman’s face quite suddenly shifted into disbelief, whipping her head around to study Bucky. She looked into his eyes first with fright, then with pity, and, finally, with kinship.

She shoved her pack into Steve’s arms. He nearly dropped it from the shock. She turned to Bucky and snatched at the pack strap, tugging so hard he nearly lost his balance. There were more words with Steve, and then more pulling. It appeared she was taking Bucky with her.

A glance over his shoulder showed Steve smiling and nodding, mouthing, “It’s OK.” He fell into step after the woman. Bucky didn’t know what to think.

She let go of the strap yet continued to walk, waving her hands and bubbling over like a boiled pot. Every few steps, she would turn and shake her finger at Bucky, lowering her voice and frowning deeply.

Then she resumed her quick march up the street.

Steve fell into step beside him, and Bucky opened his mouth to ask. But the Captain shushed him and lifted his chin, indicating they should follow without question.

Eventually, the woman stopped in front of a building that was probably quite handsome at one point. She spoke to Steve for a few moments, tone scolding as he nodded enthusiastically. It looked in need of a paint job and a few window panes were cracked.

When she turned to Bucky and grabbed his chin with a dry, gnarled hand, her eyes were kind. She whispered something, patted his cheek, then motioned for him to follow her inside.

Steve bumped shoulders with him. Well, Bucky’s shoulder to his bicep, anyway. “Come on. She’s invited us to dinner.”

They entered the building to more sounds of shouting. The woman was bellowing as if she intended to wake the dead. From the innards of the house came four people; two men, a woman, and a pre-teen boy. They met Bucky and Steve with the same expressions; fear, sorrow, then eagerness.

The older man took the bag from Steve, and the younger one followed him into an open space with a large, worn wooden table. There, the two began to unload the packages; cans, ration packets, bandages, and the like. Meanwhile, the older woman chattered at Steve, who responded in turn, and then she pushed the boy out the front door with some sort of order.

The younger woman had a similar face to the older one; Bucky deduced it was her daughter. Mother and daughter shared an animated exchange, and then they, too, disappeared into the kitchen.

Bucky took a moment to catch his breath as Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What the hell was that?”

Steve smiled crookedly, watching the activity in the other room instead of facing Bucky’s questioning gaze.

“Easy. I saved your ass. They thought you were some kind of militant, and they were about to lock you up in a barn somewhere without any food and water, and then ransom you off to the highest bidder.”

Bucky gaped at him. “They what?”

Steve nodded, still smirking, as if he were enjoying this. “Yep. Turns out, these people belong to a community of local Jews. They were tipped off by a German businessman about the Balkans being taken away by train. They’re working with the Rabbi in Volos to save their compatriots in Greece. I convinced them you were my brother, and that we’re from the Jewish part of New York. They insist we stay to eat and share news from home.”

Bucky blinked as he watched the family set about stashing the rations and getting to work with pots and pans. “So you just convinced them that Captain America is Jewish?”

Steve laughed and slapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder, shaking him vigorously. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He uncrossed his beastly thighs and pushed away from the wall, preparing to join their hosts.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “How did you do that?”

Steve turned slightly but not enough to see his whole face. “Do what?”

Bucky so wanted to punch him just then. “Speak to them!”

There was the briefest hint of eye contact before Steve put his hand on his back pocket. He retrieved the book and slapped it hard against Bucky’s stomach.

And then he walked away.

After recovering from a good solid hit to the bread basket, Bucky looked inside the tattered cover of the book.

Greek words and phrases for beginners.

“Oh.”

The chaos that ensued left Bucky feeling like an outsider. Three different conversations happened over the preparation of food, none of which he could understand. He pulled up a chair next to Steve and watched with growing interest as his friend tried to help wash vegetables.

Bucky caught the man’s pants pocket and reeled him back in. This he knew about.

“Hey,” he hissed into Rogers’ ear. “What happens at my house when you try to help?”

The confused expression on Steve’s face fell into recognition. He was used to living with Sarah, single mom for a long time, before the fend-for-yourself that happened in their apartment. “Your Ma’ would box my ears.”

“Uh-huh. Now sit your ass down and be polite. These people are starving, yet they’re willing to feed us like honored guests.”

Sheepish, Steve obeyed with hunched shoulders and bowed head. Bucky thought he saw a glimpse of his small friend inside.

Just as the food was about to be served, more people arrived. The boy who’d been sent away returned, carrying Steve and Bucky’s heavy packs, no less. He’d also brought with him three other boys, all of which had been needed to haul the supplies from the celebration hall. They beamed at Steve, who flashed a radiant smile and pulled something out of his shirt pocket for each of them.

The patch all of the Howlie’s wore: the shield with its wing.

Before Bucky could ask, Steve explained. “Stark gave them to me. I’ve been handing them out to kids for months. They’re spread out all over Europe at this point.”

Something twanged inside Bucky’s chest. There was so much good in him.

It was a fabulous meal (a bone broth with various vegetables to make up for the lack of meat), punctuated by the guilt Bucky felt for taking it. But Steve promised he’d fill their stash with more staples in the morning.

They’d also been offered a room for the night. “They want to give us a quiet night’s rest. They’ve offered to sit up in shifts to make sure nothing happens.”

Bucky’s heart clenched with appreciation for these strangers.

The conversation switched from shouting and hand waving after the meal to quiet, intent faces as Steve spoke to them about their missions. Bucky watched emotion play out on the family’s faces as he told his stories. It appeared they wanted the bad news with the good. They asked questions and nodded with serious frowns.

They were frightened.

Bucky showed them the small pictures of his mom and dad. The old woman, whose name was Nina, patted his cheek fondly and pointed at his mother. Bucky didn’t need to know the language to understand.

They had a son, twenty, who joined the local defenders and hadn’t been home in weeks. Steve took a picture and promised to pass it around. Maybe someone would know something.

It was late by the time Bucky and Steve were shown to the guest bedroom, a ten-by-ten space with one metal bed. Steve thanked them repeatedly and before the door was closed, Bucky got a hug from Nina.

The two men stood facing each other but avoided the others’ gaze. Steve spoke first.

“I suppose we’re going to fight over who gets the bed, too.”

It was a good, honest right hook.

Bucky sighed heavily and swiped a hand over his face. “I don’t want to fight, Steve. It’s just —“

He looked into that face, the same eyes and nose and lips and —

“I’m just angry at everything.”

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t nod or shrug or anything. “The guys mentioned it. A few times.”

Bucky groaned. “Of course they did.”

The piteous look Rogers threw him was harsh. “They care about you, Buck.”

Bucky knew this. But the way it was said made it sound as if Steve was the worried one.

He studied the bed and remembered how they shared one for years in the apartment. It was a comfort thing. It was a heat thing. It was a — a Steve thing.

“We can share,” Bucky said, resolving himself to accept this monster of a man as his friend. The heart of him had swelled along with his body, and Bucky found he couldn’t justify staying angry with him.

They undressed without speaking, removing boots and socks, belts and trousers. Steve unbuttoned his shirt with fat, clumsy fingers, and Bucky was struck with the idea that Rogers wasn’t used to his body yet, either.

Stripped to their bvds and undershirts, they moved side by side near the bed. The quilt had been pulled down and the pillows propped against the head stand. They sat together as they stood. Steve’s knee bumped Bucky’s, their elbows connected. And the bed?

Creeaaaaaakk!

Steve and Bucky burst into laughter at the sound.

“I ain’t sleeping a wink on this thing,” Bucky said.

Steve’s laugh sounded so, so good. “Me neither. How about we camp on the floor?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.”

They unpacked their bedrolls and stole the pillows and quilt from the bed. Bucky turned out the light as Steve sank onto his side, turning his back to Bucky’s roll.

They lay side by side for a long time, Bucky on his back and Steve on his side, facing away. Neither slept, neither moved or made any attempt to. For Bucky’s part, his mind was racing with the events of that night.

Finally, Steve spoke. “What’s eating you, Buck?”

In the dark, Bucky could have easily believed it was his Steve, home after a long day, with Bucky lost in thought. Steve constantly worried about him. Whether he was happy or sad, angry or fired up. The night always seemed to make his anxiety worse.

Bucky’s mouth was dry. He traced over the knuckles on his own hand, lying over his heart, trying to put it into words.

He settled on, “I miss you.”

Steve’s inhale was sharp and rang like an echo in the small room. “But I’m right here.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not you who’s missing. It’s me.”

The bedroll beside him rustled as Steve shifted onto his back, too. Before he dove into deeper worry, Bucky continued.

“I lost part of myself in that Hydra Facility. I’m not the same person now.”

Steve grunted as he rolled again. Bucky could feel warm breath on his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

So that was it. Rogers was trying to atone for something entirely out of his control.

Typical.

“You don’t have to keep protecting me,” Bucky said, feeling the crushing pressure in his chest now. “Just like I need to stop looking after you.”

Something moved in the dark, and a large, warm hand found his. Bucky froze.

“That’s not what this is about. This is about friends watching out for each other, not because we’re supposed to. Because we want to.”

And, oh, did that hurt?

More silence followed. Steve’s hand was hot and heavy over Bucky’s, just lying there, unmoving.

“I saved your Brooklyn butt twice today,” Steve finally said, voice lighter, trying to soften the mood.

The old sense of competitiveness raised its head, and Bucky snorted in reply. “If we’re going to keep track, I think we have to go all the way back to the beginning.”

They did, go back. Silently. Each following a path inside their own heads, remembering what they had been through. Childhood friends. Teen rivals. Confused young men who sometimes weren’t that great to each other.

And now?

Steve’s hand moved, sliding over Bucky’s chest to the opposite side. He moved closer, shifting sideways until he was so close that absolutely no one in the world would see them as brothers.

“Shut up now and get some sleep.”

Bucky’s heart thundered in his chest and he feared that Steve would feel it. He turned away, but Steve followed. His heavy arm draped over Bucky’s ribcage, chest pressed against Bucky’s back, sturdy chin bumping the top of Bucky’s head.

Steve chuckled, and Bucky’s stomach did a flip.

“What?”

More chuckling, low and deep. “There was a time when my head fit under your chin.”

Finish reading on AO3

#stucky #wwii stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #howlies

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dont-touch-my-soup · 1 year ago

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Be brave

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CW: agoraphobia (?) and anxiety

Jinn’s heart raced as he hurried around the corner. His steps were echoing from the walls so loudly he feared Oryn would hear it.

One of us has to make it out alive.

Now one of them was dead.

Streams of people welled up from the inside of the theatre on their way home as Jinn desperately tried to find the blue loge. He had waited for too long. But he had to try. If not for himself than at least for Kell.

Frantically he tried to move through the crowd. A woman bumped into him and suddenly he felt like drowning. Somehow he managed to get to the edge of the crowd just as someone stepped into his way. He abruptly came to a halt.

A tall guard was looking him up and down and Jinn started to tremble.

He got caught. His knees were about to give in.

“You are late,” the guard said without acknowledging the red stains on Jinn’s clothes.

He wasn’t a guard. It was just a disguise. A very good disguise.

“I- ... There was a … he is …”

The guard shook his head. “Let’s just get you out of here.” He snatched Jinn by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and hauled him into one of the loges and sure enough the curtains, the seats and everything else were blue. The blue loge.

He threw a few clothes against Jinn’s chest. “Get changed. Quick.”

Jinn’s hands were shaking but he was just glad to follow someone’s orders. Someone was in charge. Someone who knew more than him.

***

Most people had already left but there were still some standing around in circles and talking. It was so normal, it almost felt unreal until Jinn picked up scratches of their conversations.

“... really don’t understand. A song in that language? That’s not art.”

“... my daughter learned a bit Tharlian in the military. She said the whole song was full of profanities …”

Jinn kept his gaze on the ground. He had to stay calm. Even though his hands were shaking. Even though tears were welling in his eyes. He had to stay calm.

He tried to keep up with the guard. But now he wasn’t wearing his guard uniform anymore and Jinn had to remind himself that he wasn’t a guard. It had just been a disguise. And now he had changed his disguise. Or maybe these were his real clothes. The clothes of a Varsennan noble.

They both wore Varsennan clothes now and Jinn had never worn something so restricting. The top part was blue and looked like a mixture of a tunic and a jacket. It had too many buttons and Jinn was sure everyone could see that he didn't belong in them. The impulse to run grew with every step. But the Varsennan had one hand around Jinn’s shoulders, as if they were good friends.

He could feel his voice in his ear. “Stop staring holes into the ground. I promise, nobody is going to recognise you.”

Jinn swallowed and lifted his head a little.

The water in the fountain shimmered black in the darkness. Jinn had heard about the fountains, but he'd never seen them himself. In another life he'd have watched the spray of water in awe.

He turned his head down again. It had rained last night, and the ground was still wet. His thin cloth shoes were already soaked through, and he felt every pebble piercing into his soles. He wished the Varsennan had given him other shoes as well.

Walking outside felt wrong and his skin was itching in anticipation of getting caught.

The wet gravel scrunched under his feet as they finally walked past the fountain basin. The darkness around him seemed to follow him and he felt it clinging to him with icy fingertips.

When they had passed the first fountain Jinn saw the gate that divided the theatre area from the city. The sight alone raced his heart.

The black iron was curved into a pattern of flowers but somehow the rose vines looked like snakes coiling around each other.

He could hear a shout somewhere behind him and needles pinched his skin. He pressed himself closer to the guard.

Please. He was so close.

The shouts were getting louder. Closer.

Jinn’s heart was racing in his chest.

Maybe it was better to turn around. Before it was too late.

It was already too late.

It was too late.

He had to follow through with it.

He had to be brave.

He balled his hands into fists.

A hand curled around his left arm and Jinn wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or if the guard just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t run off. Then they passed through the gate.

***

Jinn couldn’t believe he'd left the theatre just like that. Through the main entrance like a normal visitor. It had been so easy.

More people were standing outside. In fact, there were more than he had seen in a very long time. It was chaos. There were so many voices. Laughter. Yelling. And everyone was walking in a different direction.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to tell them that his friend had just died.

His hands hung loosely at his sides, and he felt so small.

The guard impatiently clucked his tongue. “Of course, they've already left,” he mumbled. “I guess we have to walk then.”

He sighed. “Come now,” he said and took Jinn’s arm to hurry him down the street.

They rushed through the alleys and Jinn expected alarms blaring any second; Oryn running behind them and forcing him back. But nothing happened. And with every step he felt more uncertain. Could he really trust the Varsennan? He hadn’t even told him his name.

“There we are,” he said in front of a narrow building. It was pressed between two other houses. The entrance didn’t look very welcoming as he knocked with a force that rattled the door. It didn’t take long until the door opened.

Jinn stumbled inside, the Varsennan's hands still on his shoulders.

The small tavern was almost empty as the Varsennan pushed him to a group of chairs and Jinn felt like he was shrinking with every step.

What were they doing here?

“You got him?” the bartender asked glancing at Jinn with narrow eyes as he placed two glasses in front of them. Jinn didn’t like the way he looked at him.

The Varsennan nodded. “Go and send the message to his family,” he said.

“My family?” Jinn asked quietly.

The Varsennan took his time to almost empty his glass before he answered. “Your family paid us to get you out of there.”

Jinn’s heart throbbed against his chest. He wondered how much it cost to rescue someone from there. His family hadn’t even had enough money to get them new shoes every year. And by now the baby must have been born and Jinn knew how expensive babies were. He'd heard his parents' whispered conversations at night when they thought he was asleep. Jinn swallowed against the lump in his throat. “My family. They are still alive? My parents, my …sisters?”

He placed every word carefully, hoping the Varsennan would step into his trap.

But he just sighed. “I don’t know. She never mentioned that. She just sent us a letter with a lot of money to get you out of there.”

The only ‘she’ in Jinn’s family was his mother. Maybe she had made it to a safer city. Maybe she had saved every coin to get Jinn back. But she would have never sent the money to some Varsennan people just like that without any guarantee they’d actually help her.

“Where is she?” Jinn asked, his voice trembling.

“Don’t worry. She’ll come here to get you,” the Varsennan said, and he actually sounded comforting. “The best thing you can do is eat something until she arrives.”

Jinn nodded, then paused for a moment. Be brave, Kell had told him.

But being brave was hard. Being brave meant taking a risk sometimes. Being brave meant you didn’t know the outcome. But sometimes being brave was the only option you had.

“Actually, I am really exhausted. Would it be alright if I lay down over there for a bit?” He pointed to a few benches in the corner of the taproom.

“Of course,” the Varsennan said, but he was not even looking at Jinn, as he started to eat.

Jinn vanished backwards into the shadows without letting his eyes off the Varsennan until he reached the door. His heart was thumping against his chest. What if they had locked the door? Only one way to find out. He took a deep breath and pushed his whole weight against the door. The Varsennan looked up at the sound and for a second, they locked eyes. Then Jinn bolted through the open door.

_________________

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

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#unsung heroes #whump writing #Jinn will fly #look it's fine #nothing to worry about #posting this a bit late #because my laptop LITERALLY broke in half #:(

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read-weep-repeat · 2 years ago

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NO NO THE BABYSPACE HYBRID THING WAS ONTO SOMETHING

like wolfjoon could just be resting, watching whatever show is on for her and like a wolf pops up or something and she points at it and babbles but he understands exactly what she wants to say ❤️

bearjin could be cooking for the boys, with her in a baby chair until she starts calling out for him through growling, and trying to be a bear herself, until he finally picks her up and snuggles her

YOONCAT WOULD DEFO TRY TO SCRUFF HER THO LIKE THERES NO WAY. he’d be overrun by his natural instincts and constantly try to bite the back of her neck, but instantly stop because every time he did, his baby would start crying :(( he would meow at her and lick her tears until she was happily giggling and saying 'kitty!'

j-dog and being a literal guarddog for her, like u said. also him putting on a red suit while shifted so he can be clifford the big red dog and watch his babys eyes light up when they see him <33

ok im gonna be honest, idk what hybrid jimin is. but i'd picture him to be like a penguin maybe. so he naturally wants to hold mc close and underneath him, so whenever he can hes holding the baby. its even worse when he's shifted, he refuses to let her go for even a second. and when any of the others try to argue about it, he says that she's happy with it and wants to snuggle with her favourite daddy ❤️

foxhyung and going beyond just stealing her attention from the others, to just straight up stealing her. like jin could be asleep with her, but wakes up babyless because taehyung woke her up mid nap saying that they're gonna play a game where they hide from everyone else, and she giggles and allows him to carry her to wherever he chooses to hide her from the other 6.

and finally, rabbitkoo, who somehow steals her attention more than tae or jimin combined. he ALWAYS tries to keep her attention on her. oh namjoon is reading to her? well jungkook is hopping across the floor while shifted, knowing she'll instantly reach for him. yoongi is trying to scent her? koo makes sure his ears are extra floppy. because he should be the main point of her attention 24/7.

then the others getting sick of koo so they ban him from seeing the baby for a day. she eventually realises she hadnt seen him all day and starts uncontrollably crying, making grabby hands and calling out 'bunny' over and over, until they lift the ban bc they cant bear to see their princess upset about anything <3

AWWW joons tail wagging when she points at him and slurrs out “puppy!” In her baby speech because yes. Yes he is her puppy. even though he could crush a man’s windpipe with his front teeth.

PLSSS THEM ALL GETTING SO HAPPY WHEN SHE ACTS LIKE THEM!! Whether on purpose or not, her trying to act like her daddies just makes them so giddy. Her making the growling noises with Jin :( purring at yoongi and Jimin :( yipping with Taehyung when she’s happy :(( shaking her head when her hair is wet like hobi does in dog form :((

He would never think of it or willingly decide to do it, but would lose his fight when all of the others are shoving his shifted version in the red suit 😭 but he’d forget about it and lick her face happily when she giggles and runs up to “clifford”

Yoongi not getting to scruff his kitten :(( he’d be so sad :( he knows he can’t do it because of how much his teeth would hurt her, but it makes him so sad that he can’t carry her up to the felines room when he wants a moment with his kitten. (I’m convinced shifted yoongi always thinks of mc as a kitten, whether she’s in little space or not) he would mimic scruffing her with his hands though, pressing down just the right amount to get her lax in the palm of his hand, satisfying his need to gather up his baby by the back of her neck.

So I’m planning for Jimin to be a tabby housecat, but a penguin is SO CUTE. Imagine him getting confused because she doesn’t fit under him like an egg or baby penguin would 🥲 He waddles up on her tummy expecting to warm her and keep her safe between his feet but he can still see her!! Wrong!! He’d be so panicked as to why his baby isn’t safe and sound between his feet :( human version would be so cute too, constantly wanting to be on top of her when she’s sleeping, casually placing her between his feet when she’s playing on the floor, slipping a pebble into her pockets before he gathers the confidence to confess to her, and seeing her holding the pebble (even if she doesn’t know what it means) satiating his need for the time being.

Koo the greedy rabbit, using his fluffy fur to steal the baby 😌 his fluffy ears would be his beacon that draws mc towards him, even at the beginning of the relationship when they’ve just moved in.

OMG IMAGINE!! imagine mc slipping into little space before the boys know about it and are developing feelings for her 🥺 they can tell somethings off with her, but can’t smell weed or alch so they’re so confused as to why she’s off balance, slurring her words together, and being so affectionate

she’s cuddling up to them on the couch, laughing extra loud at their jokes, and they swear they hear her call Jungkook bunny in her quick, fluttering speech. Jungkook rolls with it, a blush creeping across his cheeks as he tells her facts and watches her eyes dart between his twitching ears.

He goes “do you… do you want to touch them?” And leans his head down. His nose twitches as she hurried runs her fingers along his ears, and his foot thumps into the hardwood of the living room and she giggles at the fuzzy feeling.

She ends up in his lap as she gently caresses his ears, bubbly and chatty with them all (except for the uncommonly quiet Jungkook) her actions are explained away by any explanation they can think of… edibles, an all-nighter, anything that could explain it. Though, they don’t really care about any explanation when she falls asleep in Jungkooks lap, her hands curling around his and a small whisper of “bunny” on her lips.

#rich mc

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jamie-leah · 4 years ago

Text

Traitor

Bucky x Reader

Oneshot

Summary: Everyone thinks you're a traitor but Bucky isn't convinced.

Word: 2592

Warnings: Swearing, action stuff, hints at abuse and violence at the end.

A/N: I had a half formed daydream that turned into this. Starts strong, ends weak, enjoy!

Oneshot Masterlist Series Masterlist

Steve throws your file on the desk in front of Bucky. Bucky just stares at your face on the front of the folder, pinned by a silver paper clip.

Silver was your favourite type of jewellery. Bucky remembered storing the information away for when he bought you a silver necklace for your birthday not long ago.

“I’m sorry, Buck, but we had an operative confirm everything I just told you. Y/N is a contract killer, an assassin and she was sent here to infiltrate and kill. Namely, all of us.”

Bucky hears the words coming from Steve’s mouth, but he can’t understand them. Images of you flash in his mind. You laughing at one of his lame jokes, you crying in his arms from a nightmare, you underneath him moaning his name as he kisses a trail down your neck.

Bucky shakes his head, “I don’t believe that Steve, I can’t. Who’s the source? How do you know they’re legit?”

Steve picks up a remote and points it at a screen in the room. It blinks to life on a still image of you in a restaurant, kissing the cheek of one of the most prominent mob bosses in the city and known Hydra agent.

Bucky stands so fast his chair cracks on the floor as he tears out of the office at full speed. He skips passed the elevator and takes the stairs, missing steps in his rush.

He keeps going and going until he hits the lowest level underneath the tower and storms passed all the guards. None of them challenge him, too afraid of the former Winter Soldier to get in his way.

As Bucky gets to the cells, he grabs an agent by the scruff and grinds out, “which cell?”

They all knew who he was talking about. Everyone would be talking about this for a while to come. The agent points into the open space of cells and stutters, “its, c-cell 203”.

Bucky drops the agent and stalks through the cells until he finally comes to 203. He steps into view with clenched fists and doesn’t pause before he asks, “why?”

You sit on the edge of the cot, elbows on knees, staring at the grey wall opposite. It takes you a moment to build up the courage to look at him. You never intended for this to happen. You never wanted to get feelings involved, but as you look at Bucky, you know it’s far too late for that now. Now you have a mess on your hands.

You debate how to play this. Do you keep up the contract killer façade or do you confess, tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell another human being before?

“Barnes, I should have known you would pay me a visit sooner rather than later.”

Bucky felt like you had struck him in the face with the way you addressed him, but he holds firm, “why?”

“Why what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific”, you reply coolly as you stand to face him.

Bucky changes his question, “is it true? Are you a contract killer?”

It takes you a few moments to keep the mask in place, “yes”.

You watch the pain flash across his features for the briefest of moments before he locks it away to be felt in private. It breaks your heart, but you’re so used to the feeling it never shows on your face.

Bucky goes to turn from you, wanting to get away, the sight of you too much to bear. You throw a question out into the void between you before he can retreat, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky never turns back to look at you, but he whispers, “was any of it ever real?”

Despite knowing this was the question, despite hearing it from a few people across your lifetime, it was the first time it ever hit you in the gut with such force you had to take a silent gulp of air before choking out, “no”.

He leaves without another word.

You wait a few days. Working out the routine of the place before you wait for your next move.

You wait with your back to a small portion of the concrete wall next to the cell door. A blind spot. And when the guard brings your food and slides it under the metal bars, he looks up to find you missing.

Just as he steps closer to look, you strike. You shoot your arms between the bars and pull so hard his head bangs into the metal and he crumples, out cold.

You drag is body parallel to the door and you sweep his body for keys. You start to lose hope when your hand flits over cool metal and a little jingle rings out.

You wait fifteen minutes until lights out and the use the keys. You drag the guard into the cell, swapping your uniforms before closing the door and locking him in. You check all your hair is tucked until the cap before heading for the locked door between freedom and your prison.

You rap on the metal with your heart beating furiously against your ribcage. But the door opens without a problem and you have to stop yourself from sprinting down the hall and up the stairwell.

Once you make it up one flight of stairs with no alarms raised you start to sprint. Before you leave, you have to make it back to your room for your go bag. You can’t leave it when it has all the information you need for what started this all off.

You run and run and run. You run until your lungs burn with a fire that’s been flowing in your veins since you were born. You run until your legs scream at you to stop and just when you don’t think you can take any more flights of stairs, you make it to the top.

You stop. Your hand on the handle, taking a moment to get your breathing under control. You push the handle down slowly and open the door a crack to find the hallway in darkness.

You slip through and creep on the tiles without a sound as you make it to the first spare room in the hall.

You get into the room no problem and let out a breath when you realise no one knows you used this room to stash your information.

You waste no time in grabbing your go back from the closet, checking everything you need is in there before heading for the door again. Three steps from the exit and alarms scream out, waking everyone from their slumber. The alarm is followed by a female robotic voice, “alert, alert, prisoner escape. Alert, alert, prisoner escape.”

You swear under your breath as you rush out the door to see Bucky, Natasha and Sam at the end of the hall, near the stairway. Your only exit.

They spot you seconds after you spot them, and you take off running in the opposite direction. You can’t afford a hand to hand with all three of them. As confident as you are in your abilities they have just as much, and you don’t want to hurt them.

They shout in your direction, but you ignore them as you unzip your bag and rummage around for a miracle. You get to the living space when you finally feel it and a flimsy plan comes to mind.

You turn, gun in both hands as you drop the go bag. Bucky, Natasha and Sam all creep into the room, guns pointed in your direction as yours is in theirs.

“There’s nowhere else to go now, Y/N,” Sam says in his calm way.

You hold firm, the sofas keeping the four of you apart. You look in Bucky’s direction as you talk, “things are more complicated than they seem. And I’m sorry you were caught up in it. I’m not a good person and I’ll get what I deserve, but I have something I need to do first.”

“And what’s that? Kills us?”, Nat asks.

You shake your head, still looking at Bucky, “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it three times over. You’re not my mission.”

“Then give yourself up and explain.” Sam tries to reason.

You lower your gun slowly, “it would take too long, and you may never believe me. I can’t afford that, and I’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Bucky remains silent throughout the whole exchange, but you study each other the entire time. You try to convey that you lied earlier before reaching up your arm with lightning speed.

Two shots and the chandelier that Stark insisted on installing for the living room crashes in front of the three as you turn and shoot the glass window. As the glass spiderwebs, you drop the gun and run at full speed. You have a moment to acknowledge that throwing yourself from the top of the tower is the dumbest move you’ve ever made as the air rushes to greet you.

You twist with a hand in your pocket and throw upwards, watching and praying for your miracle to work as the rope and hook catches and you plummet.

You fall down the building on the rope watching the ground and unclip at the last second, rolling with the momentum as the impact jars through your bones.

Bucky couldn’t believe you threw yourself out the window. He was the first to recover, leaping over the lights and the sofa to dive head first after you. He digs his metal hand into the concrete and slides down after you.

He sees you roll and run immediately like the pro that you are and wastes no time pursuing you.

You dart between traffic and glance behind to see him behind you. You growl in frustration at the stubborn solider, having to change your plans once again as you head for the roads.

You instinctively feel Bucky gaining on you with the serum pumping through his veins so when you spot a cargo truck coming on the road below. You don’t hesitate to jump off the road you’re on and slam into the truck underneath.

Your lungs scream for the third time that night as all the air leaves them, but you pay no attention as you look up to find Bucky staring after you.

You walk in the quiet of the night, looking down at the folded piece of paper. You check you have the right address when the empty warehouse finally comes into view. You slip in without any problems and head over to the machine where you stashed more stuff.

Just as you go to reach for the bag you hear the click of a gun. You freeze. You turn slowly, with your hands visible and find yourself staring into the face of Bucky and the barrel of his gun.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and sigh, “how did you find me?”

“Please, do you really think I don’t know you after all this time? After our talk in the cells, I checked all the spare rooms. Found your go bag and the addresses. This was the closest one to the tower”, Bucky replies with an easy shrug.

You nod your head, “but if you found them, why did you leave them there? Why didn’t you tell anyone else?”.

“Tell me what’s going on, Y/N”, Bucky dodges the question.

You knew there was no other way out of this now. You had to tell him if you ever had a hope of getting this done tonight.

“Look, can you put the gun down-“

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I can’t trust you.”

You pretend like his words don’t hurt, though they’re warranted, “okay, okay. Look, most of it is true. I am a contract killer. Long story short, I was born into a mob family. Mum died giving birth to me and left me and my older sister with my piece of shit father, the “use you as an ashtray type father”. At least he did with my sister. She took the brunt of his shit…anyway, when I turned 13 and had my first period, he sold me to a man. That man? Was the mob boss I know you saw me with, Joe Selene. I’ll skip passed all the torture and right to the part where he trained me as a contract killer for him and bided my time. My father had gone underground and with my limited access to resources I couldn’t find him.”

Bucky lowers the gun as you go through your story, his features softening at your tale of tragedy.

“I swore to my sister that I would come for her but I needed to gain the trust of Selene so I could get the resources to find my father. That was when he got involved with Hydra and they asked him to take you out. I agreed, knowing that you would have all the resources I needed to find my father and my sister.”

Bucky shakes his head, “why didn’t you tell me, us, any of this? We could have helped you.”

You look away from him, “because about a week after I got to the tower, I read my sisters name in the obituary. All the people I had killed to get to my sister was for nothing. She died alone, waiting for a rescue that never came and I knew…I knew that I was going to kill that bastard for everything that happened. I also knew that none of you would let me. You would reason about justice and doing things the right way. But I know what’s right and that’s that bastard six feet under and in hell.”

You look back up at Bucky to find him already watching you. You square your shoulders and jut your chin as you say, “so, you’re either with me or against me and so help me God, if you try to stop me from leaving this building and killing that piece of shit, I will not hesitate to put you down. I told you that you’re not my mission, but I will damn make sure nothing gets in the way.”

Bucky nods, “I’m in.”

You turn back to your bag and pull out the knives to strap around your body. You hand a few to Bucky and he takes them without a word.

As he turns to head back out of the warehouse you throw the question out again, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky turns to look at you this time. He captures your eyes with his as he stares into your soul and whispers, “was any of it real?”

You reply without hesitation, “yes. Every single word.”

Bucky takes a few long strides before grabbing your face with his hands and crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You return with the same ferocity, gripping his shirt in your fists to try and bring his body closer to yours.

When you can no longer breathe, you break the kiss. You both pant as Bucky brings his forehead down to meet yours. He whispers, “after we go drop a few bodies, what do you say we go take a trip. Just you and me?”

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raggaraddy · 4 years ago

Text

I'd Die Fighting

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Thank you for your request! I really like the concept, and kind of got carried away with the stories and now they're too long. So I'll release them as individuals as I finish them. I hope you like them! ^-^

If anyone else wants to request you can here.

Mafia Bangtan Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Taehyung

Jungkook

Summary: Pinned down by the cops, you know you're the only one who can stop Jimin from getting himself killed.

Trigger Warnings: Police shooting, gun usage, blood, violence, death, ambiguous ending.

Jimin

Mafia! Jimin

You were in the middle of a scheduled pick up, collecting the gang's share of the profits for the month. There had already been 3 today and all had gone as routine as the times before. You're in a residential building site, parked in one of the driveways, and on a Sunday too, so it's nice and quiet and empty. There was no reason to think that this stop would be any different than the last.

That was until the lights and sounds of police sirens filled the street.

You could only watch on in dread as 4 cop cars sped into the driveway trapping you and the two men into a box. With a 10-foot foundation wall behind you and building walls on either side, you were now realizing that this location wasn't so much secure, as it was an obvious dead end.

Looking back in the side-view mirror, you can see Jimin with the dealer. The guy panics instantly, pulling out his gun without a chance to even aim it before he is blown away. There are dozens of deafening shots all at once and the guy, no older than you, drops down dead.

Barely able to contain your terror, you are not able to do anything but to watch helplessly as Jimin dives behind the rear of the car to avoid the stray bullets.

Slowly, the officers start down the concrete path, closing in tighter, all of them with their guns drawn, all of them looking alarmed and ready to fire. With this many cops, you know neither of you stands a chance. There is no escape here, not without a miracle. But you know Jimin. You know he isn't going to just give in. He's said it before, he's said it often. He might die, but he'll die fighting before he dies in a cage.

The officer coming closest to the car bangs on the hood to draw your attention making you jump. "Stay in the car," He mouths the words.

You can't abide. If you don't do something Jimin is going to get himself killed. He may be willing to die, but you're not willing to lose him. You shake your head hard, swinging the car door open, stepping out tensely with your hands upright. Your arms and legs are shaking with pure adrenaline, relying on nothing but a prayer that they don't shoot you right now.

"Get back in the car." "Stay in the car." "Miss, get back in the car." A sea of loud, demanding voices shout at you all at once. While your survival instinct is telling you to obey the angry people with guns, you ignore them all. Your instinct-your love for Jimin is greater than your fear.

Walking paced steps backwards, you're watchfully eyeing them. They're still pressing forwards, but they have slowed substantially. Half of the group aiming more aggressively, and the other half pointing their guns at you more hesitantly. Calls of stay in the car turn into orders to get on the ground. But you can't, you won't.

Coming in line with the back of the car, Jimin is knelt behind it his gun in hand. "Y/n! What the fuck are doing?!" he snaps, eyes full of worry.

He may bluster to everyone else, but you know the full expression. In private he'd whisper the ending to you and only you. 'I'd die fighting before I ever die in a cage. And I'll spend my life locked up before I ever see you hurt.'

"Get back in the car!" He growls.

"No," you whisper.

"Get back in the car!"

"No."

"Oh for fucks sake, will you just listen to me for once!" He growls, running his hand back through his hair, about to lose any composer he has remaining.

"No!" You shout, your eyes darting from the cops to Jimin and back.

He roars, grabbing your shirt, yanking you down the ground beside him. The commands of the police heighten and start coming more frequently as they steadily begin to entrap the two of you again.

"I'm gonna beat the hell outta you after this." He shouts, reaching over the top of the car to fire a slew of shots, not aiming to hit anyone but just trying to keep the cops away.

"Fine. Do it. But just let there be an after." You plead, eyes filling with tears. "Put the gun down. Please!"

"What?! No!"

"Come out with your hands up or we open fire." A far off voice, coming through a speaker, gives a sickening order.

Jimin's harsh defiant look turns to one of pure fright and frenzy. He knows if they're shooting at him, they're shooting at you.

His hand scrunches in the scruff of your shirt, dragging you flat to the ground further out of harms-way, using the same momentum to launch himself into the open, weapon ready. He gets only 2 shot off before they retaliate with more than half a dozen. Not all connect, one catching his leg, another his shoulder. The hits double him over, making him drop the gun.

It all happens before you are able to even turn back over. The sight of him struck has you screaming, acting rashly and impulsively. You wail his name clambering to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck. Lifting him upright, you're covering him with your body as much as you possibly can. You don't pause think what might happen right now if the officers began to fire again. You only know you need to save him from them. Save him from himself. Pushing him with your chest, you force him back more and more until his body hits the foundation wall. You turn yourself around towards the encroaching men and women, shoving your weight roughly against him. To shield him, and trying your best to keep him pinned to the bricks so he is unable to act suddenly or foolishly.

Thankfully the cops still seem hesitant to shoot at you. Although you don't trust it for it to last much longer.

Your stomach drops, feeling a warm wetness dripping over the exposed skin on your upper back. Jimin's shoulder is bleeding heavily down you.

This is so fucking bad.

"Stop, please stop, Baby!" You whisper to Jimin, nearly unable to form the words due to the shake in your voice. It's just the two of you opposing 7 armed police officer. You know he hates the thought of defeat, he may even hate you for this, but neither of you has any way of winning this standoff.

His forehead presses to the back of your head, his hot breath fanning down your neck. In the smallest motions, you feel him nod against you.

Raising them in surrender, his arms come out from behind you. There's a sharp pain in your side with a sudden booming sound. It knocks your breath away. You whine, your hand squeezing tighter against his legs, into the fabric of his jeans.

"Y/n?" Jimin knows what's happening before you do.

One of the officers mistook Jimins actions as hostile and got twitchy with his gun.

You gasp slumping back into him, your legs weakening. He catches you, lowering with you as you fall to the floor. "Baby!"

Jimin looks up to the cop who fired. He's memorizing every detail of their face. Already having resigned to hunt them down and make them suffer.

Finally able to inhale, you cry out a low scream, pain spreading from your stomach up. "Jimin," you cry clawing his arm, fingers wrapped in his sleeve.

The swarm of police starts to move more frantically. A knee flies at Jimin sending him into the wall, separating him from you. Without him, you fall flat into the dirt. To your right one of the men is forcing Jimin to the ground with a knee trying to flatten him. But he isn't giving in, fighting and struggling against the weight, desperately trying to get back to you.

Even as there are three of them versus only Jimin, he is still putting up enough resistance that they are unable to fully hold him.

"Y/n!" He yells, as one of his arms is pinned behind his back, driving him heavily into the dirt. "Get the fuck off!" he snarls.

Your throat feels full. You're starting to choke, spluttering blood out and down your cheeks. Your hands clutching your stomach are wet and slippery from blood. The heavy amounts of it pouring from you making you weaker with each passing second.

"Alright!" There's a heavy thump as Jimin stops resisting and is plunged aggressively into the floor. "Just help her! Help her!" With all of the pain and fear you're feeling, it's the pure panic in Jimin's voice that finally brings you to tears.

Rolling your head towards him, his chin is dug into the concrete floor, his skin and clothes red with blood, his face pale and flush, his eyes red and teary with emotion. With him no longer fighting they are able to cuff his hands. They haul him to his feet, carrying his weight. He yells in pain, his cries turning into pleas for you, calling again and again for someone, anyone to help you.

One of the officers comes to your side pressing firmly on your wound making you shriek, spitting out even more blood. They speak into their walkie-talkie describing your state and injuries calling for an ambulance. Explaining that a male will be coming to the hospital by a police cruiser.

In front of you, the others are dragging a limping Jimin away. Being pulled from you he begins his fight again, battling to not leave you. But he's too injured and restricted to combat them much more. Only able to call out to you over and over.

Even as the car doors close on him, you can still hear him shouting your name. Even as you lose consciousness you can still hear the echo of his voice.

#bts #bts fanfic #bangtan #jimin #park jimin #yandere jimin #bts jimin #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #mafia jimin #bts requests #bts reactions #bts mafia imagine

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maple-writes · 3 years ago

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WHG 18: The Reaping

whg tag list: @concealeddarkness13, @ratracechronicler, @pen-of-roses, @drabbleitout, @onmywaytobe

Multiple times the peacekeepers had given him the option to turn back on his own, tried to convince him it would be the smart thing to do. That it would be less embarrassing when he was on stage. Part of him wondered if they were supposed to have revealed that he was going to be ending up on stage. But it didn’t matter. Fuck them. He crouched in a too-small cat carrier and hissed in response to anything they said to him and swatted at the door if they tried to get too close.

Somewhere outside the anthem began to play, distant and muffled through however many walls they had separating him from the outside. The peacekeepers groaned and picked up the carrier. It swung by the handle and Antonio huddled down against the bottom. The fur along his tail and back puffed up as the noise got louder and it started to dawn on him that something bad might be about to happen. They stopped just off the entrance to the stage and his stomach dropped. No. There was no way that anything less that horrible would come of this.

On stage the escort spoke, echoed backwards from the crowd and into the stage wings. “I am truly sorry to disappoint all you hopefuls, but your next tribute will not be drawn from those of you standing here before me.”

Oh no. Antonio shrunk back in the carrier, stomach twisting. He could tell where this was going.

“Last chance to turn back on your own.” The peacekeeper jeered.

The escort keep going. “A sorcerer who abandoned his position in the face of criticism, the Capitol is giving him the chance to clear his name and make up for what he has done.” She gestured out to the wing they waited in. “Antonio Verna!”

The peacekeeper shoved his hand into the carrier and dragged him out by the scruff of his neck. He curled his tail over his belly and hung frozen as he dangled above the stage blinded by bright lights. His ears flattened under the stares of everyone in the district. Confused glances and whispers spread through the crowd.

The escort turned to him, fake pity on her face. “Aww, don’t be shy. You should be grateful we found you!”

The peacekeeper gave him a little shake and he winced, the pull on the back of his neck quickly growing painful. But he didn’t want to. Not when that was what they wanted of him. How dare they decide this was helping him. His tail puffed out like a bottle brush he stared out at the crowd with huge eyes and a tense face. Was it someone here who blew his cover?

“Aw, well maybe by the time you get to the Capitol you’ll open up a little.” She clapped her hands to send him off and the peacekeeper took him away.

He shoved him back into the carrier and slammed the door. “You’re going to regret doing that.” He grabbed the cage and yanked it up, swinging it like he didn’t care what it hit.

They didn’t bring him to the meeting room, instead dragging him out in a small unused office space. He threw him onto the table and faced him with crossed arms. “You messed up. You should have listened to me.”

Antonio arched his back and hissed, ears pinned. How dare he. He wasn’t the one grabbed mid-nap and thrown into a cage when he didn’t want to be found.

The door opened and the peacekeeper bowed his head and stepped aside. Antonio looked up and froze. An elite sorcerer stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. She stood before him, looking down with all-grey eyes. Dark ink stained her hands up to her elbows where marks and threads emanating magic wrapped up and down her skin.

She held out a hand, magic seeping through her to him and forcing his body to change. In an instant he sat on the desk, human once more. He sat hunched, orange hair tied in a thin ponytail down his back and shoulders sharper than they once were.

He clenched his jaw and glared up at her. “You bitch, how dare you!”

The peacekeeper reached for his baton but the elite sorcerer raised her hand to stop him. “For your information my name is Malcolm.” She lowered her hand. “We have been looking for you for quite some time now. Hiding as well as you have is an impressive feat but it is time to stop this.”

“Go fuck yourself!” He spat. “What the hell was that all about, dragging me on stage and claiming they’re doing me a favour?”

“Do not speak to her that way.” The Peacekeeper barked. “Show some respect.”

“Quiet, please.” Malcolm nodded to the peacekeeper and he took his place back at the wall. “I understand this is a shock to you but then, you must also realize that abandoning you position the way you did comes with consequences. There is also the issue of the Construct.”

So they knew. How? He set his jaw and glared, not risking saying a word.

She continued. “You may know that we have been attempting to recapture her, and we know that you have been frequently in contact with both her and the doppelganger she is traveling with.” She paused, waiting in case he wanted to speak but kept going when he refused. “We want to see if she comes for you.”

She wouldn’t. Or at least, she shouldn’t. Luka on the other hand... “So I’m bait?”

“How you choose to perceive this is none of my concern.” She dipped her head and took a step back towards the door. “I will be in touch throughout this ordeal. It is not my intention for harm to come to you but I am required to recover the Construct. I hope you understand.”

Understand what, that he was just a pawn in all this? He growled. “You’re nothing but a heartless bitch who thinks you’re better than anyone else. That you can just throw people around like animals.”

She paused by the door, turning back. “If you are referring to what happened to your apprentice, we both know you could have stopped that. Do not accuse me of bloodlust.”

His jaw clenched and his stomach turned. The creature, her screaming then nothing. Silence that dragged on broken only by snapping bones and ripping flesh. All while they held him back, useless. It should have been him. Irena didn’t have anything to do with it.

“I caution you too, Antonio, about speaking to me this way where others can hear. It will do you no favors.” She dipped her head again. “Goodbye for now.”

#whg 18 #antonio #this is the reason I entered him. to have him up as a cat #thought it would be funny

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gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes · 6 months ago

Text

The Shield Bearer (E, Canon divergence, Howlies era)

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Chapter 3:

Bucky could practically feel it happening. The softening of his sanctimonious anger. He couldn’t put his finger on when exactly it began, but it was there and growing weaker by the hour.

The room was jam-packed with drunk people. Some rebels, some military, most locals. They celebrated with what seemed like every bottle of spirits they owned over the returned goods. It didn’t require a knowledge of Greek or the many similar dialects to understand. Whooping and hollering joyfully was the same in any language.

Men slapped his back, old women touched his hands. The younger ones squeezed his biceps and the children ran off with the shield. Everyone had shown up to lay eyes and fingers and lips on the fabled Captain America, come to deliver them from oppression.

“Whatcha doin,’ Buck?” he’d complain, tripping over his feet to keep up. “I’m fine, I tell ya!’ Fine!”

Bucky would shake his head and guide Steve out of traffic and back onto the sidewalk. “Sure ya’ are, pal.”

It was unnatural.

Bucky was proud of Steve.

The bastard.

Bucky had to get out of there. Fast.

He walked swiftly. It was dark now. The city was under the protection of the rebels, so he needn’t worry about running into the enemy. The problem was the enemy was also himself.

Two stern-looking gentlemen approached without fear while the woman continued to shout. It was clear they intended to confront him. Bucky struggled for the words that Gabe had attempted to teach him.

“Friend!” he tried in what he knew to be a horrible accent. “America! Soldier!”

Too late, he was caught. Strong hands held him back as the crowd approached. It didn’t look good at all.

And then?

A voice. Impossibly deep, a rumble of thunder that parted the throng and commanded their attention.

Bucky didn’t dare move for fear of breaking the spell. This was Steve, but it wasn’t. He’d been approached by an imposter, a body double, an unknown.

The woman’s face quite suddenly shifted into disbelief, whipping her head around to study Bucky. She looked into his eyes first with fright, then with pity, and, finally, with kinship.

She shoved her pack into Steve’s arms. He nearly dropped it from shock. She turned to Bucky and snatched at his sleeve, tugging so hard he nearly lost his balance. There were more words with Steve, and then more pulling. It appeared she was taking Bucky with her.

A glance over his shoulder showed Steve smiling and nodding, mouthing, “It’s OK.” He marched after the woman. Bucky didn’t know what to think.

She let go of Bucky yet continued to walk, waving her hands and bubbling over like a boiled pot. Every few steps, she would turn and shake her finger at him, lowering her voice and frowning deeply.

Then she resumed her quick march up the street.

Steve fell into step beside him, and Bucky opened his mouth to ask. But the Captain shushed him and lifted his chin, indicating they should follow without question.

Eventually, the woman stopped in front of a building that was probably quite handsome at one point. It looked in need of a paint job and a few window panes were cracked.

She spoke to Steve for a few moments, tone scolding as he nodded enthusiastically. When she turned to Bucky and grabbed his chin with a dry, gnarled hand, her eyes were kind. She whispered something, patted his cheek, then motioned for him to follow her inside.

Steve bumped shoulders with him. Well, Bucky’s shoulder to his bicep, anyway. “Come on. She’s invited us to dinner.”

The younger woman had a similar face to the older one; Bucky deduced it was her daughter. Mother and daughter shared an animated exchange, and then they, too, disappeared into the kitchen.

Bucky took a moment to catch his breath as Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What the hell was that?”

Steve smiled crookedly, watching the activity in the other room instead of facing Bucky’s questioning gaze.

Bucky gaped at him. “They what?”

Bucky blinked as he watched the family set about stashing the rations and getting to work with pots and pans. “So you just convinced them that Captain America is Jewish?”

Steve laughed and slapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder, shaking him vigorously. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He uncrossed his powerful thighs and pushed away from the wall, preparing to join their hosts.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “How did you do that?”

Steve turned slightly but not enough to see his whole face. “Do what?”

Bucky so wanted to punch him just then. “Speak to them!”

There was the briefest hint of eye contact before Steve put his hand on his back pocket. He retrieved the book and slapped it hard against Bucky’s stomach.

And then he walked away.

After recovering from a good solid hit to the bread basket, Bucky looked inside the tattered cover of the book.

Greek words and phrases for beginners.

“Oh.”

And then, Steve tried to help wash vegetables.

Bucky caught the man’s back pants pocket and reeled him back in. This he knew about.

“Hey,” he hissed into Rogers’ ear. “What happens at my house when you try to help?”

The confused expression on Steve’s face fell into recognition. He was used to living with Sarah, single mom for a long time, before the fend-for-yourself that happened in their shared apartment. “Your Ma’ would box my ears.”

“Uh-huh. Now sit your ass down and be polite. These people are starving, yet they’re willing to feed us like honored guests.”

Sheepish, Steve obeyed with hunched shoulders and bowed head. Bucky thought he saw a glimpse of his small friend inside, all the fight punched out of him.

The patch all of the Howlies wore: the shield with its wing.

Before Bucky could ask, Steve explained. “Stark gave them to me. I’ve been handing them out to kids for months. They’re spread out all over Europe at this point.”

Something twanged inside Bucky’s chest. There was so much good in Steve.

They’d also been offered a room for the night. “They want to give us a quiet night’s rest. They’ve offered to sit up in shifts to make sure nothing happens.”

Bucky’s heart clenched with appreciation for these strangers.

They were frightened.

Bucky showed them the small pictures of his mom and dad. The old woman, whose name was Nina, patted his cheek fondly and pointed at his mother. Bucky didn’t need to know the language to understand.

They had a son, twenty, who joined the local defenders and hadn’t been home in weeks. Steve took a picture and promised to pass it around. Maybe someone would know something.

The two men stood facing each other but avoided the others’ gaze. Steve spoke first.

“I suppose we’re going to fight over who gets the bed, too.”

It was a good, honest right hook.

Bucky sighed heavily and swiped a hand over his face. “I don’t want to fight, Steve. It’s just —“

He looked into that face, the same eyes and nose and lips and —

“I’m just angry at everything.”

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t nod or shrug or anything. “The guys mentioned it. A few times.”

Bucky groaned. “Of course they did.”

The piteous look Rogers threw him was harsh. “They care about you, Buck.”

Bucky knew this. But the way it was said made it sound as if Steve was the worried one.

He studied the bed and remembered how they shared one for years in the apartment. It was a comfort thing. It was a heat thing. It was a — a Stevething.

They undressed without speaking, removing boots and socks, belts and trousers. Steve unbuttoned his shirt with fat, clumsy fingers, and Bucky was struck that Rogers wasn’t used to his body yet, either.

Stripped to their BVDs and undershirts, they moved side by side near the bed. The quilt had been pulled down and the pillows propped against the head stand. They sat together just as they had stood. Steve’s knee bumped Bucky’s, their elbows connected. And the bed?

Creeaaaaaakk!

Steve and Bucky burst into laughter at the sound.

“I ain’t sleeping a wink on this thing,” Bucky said.

Steve’s laugh sounded so, so good. “Me neither. How about we camp on the floor?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.”

They unpacked their bedrolls and stole the pillows and quilt from the bed. Bucky turned out the light as Steve sank onto his side, turning his back to Bucky’s roll.

Finally, Steve spoke. “What’s eating you, Buck?”

Bucky’s mouth was dry. He traced over the knuckles on his own hand, lying over his heart, trying to put it into words.

He settled on, “I miss you.”

Steve’s inhale was sharp and rang like an echo in the small room. “But I’m right here.”

Bucky shook his head. It’s not what he meant to say. “It’s not you who’s missing. It’s me.”

The bedroll beside him rustled as Steve shifted onto his back, too. Before he dove into deeper worry, Bucky continued.

“I lost part of myself in that Hydra Facility. I’m not the same person now.”

Steve grunted as he rolled again. Bucky could feel warm breath on his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

So that was it. Rogers was trying to atone for something entirely out of his control.

Typical.

“You don’t have to keep protecting me,” Bucky said, feeling the crushing pressure in his chest now. “Just like I need to stop looking after you.”

Something moved in the dark, and a large, warm hand found his. Bucky froze.

“That’s not what this is about. This is about friends watching out for each other, not because we have to. Because we want to.”

And, oh, did that hurt?

More silence followed. Steve’s hand was hot and heavy over Bucky’s, just lying there, unmoving.

“I saved your Brooklyn butt twice today,” Steve finally said, voice lighter, trying to soften the mood.

The old sense of competitiveness raised its head, and Bucky snorted in reply. “If we’re going to keep track, I think we have to go all the way back to the beginning.”

And now?

Steve’s hand moved, sliding over Bucky’s chest to the opposite side. He moved closer, shifting sideways until he was so close that absolutely no one in the world would see them as brothers.

“Shut up now and get some sleep.”

Steve chuckled, and Bucky’s stomach did a flip.

“What?”

More chuckling, low and deep. “There was a time when my head fit under your chin.”

Bucky didn’t know how much more he could take. He was surrounded by memories, by familiar smells and sounds and that stubborn asshole’s lame jokes.

But the arm over his chest was new, muscled and covered in coarse hair. The hand that used to fit inside his own was the same size as his now. The chest massive and bulging and –

Oh, Bucky was glad he was facing away.

Distracted, disarmed and disgusted with himself, he hooked his own arm under and over Steve’s, pulling the man’s limb to his chest and holding it there. Pinning him as he used to do so many years ago.

Steve was breathing into his hair, and Bucky thought he could imagine they were back in Brooklyn. Only he was the little spoon and Steve was –

“No more jokes, you,” Bucky scolded. He had wanted this - this closeness - for so long. “Go to sleep. And no ditching, ya’ hear? If I have to rest, so do you.”

It was almost possible to hear Steve smile. He settled closer, nose buried in Bucky’s hair, leaning against him as if Steve were the one who needed strength.

“Aye, Aye, Sarge.”

#stucky #wwii era #howlies era #chapter 3

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 4

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Things just seem to keep getting tense around here... Will Reader ever catch a break? Will Yondu ever solve the mystery?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: This chapter is a LONG BOI. I considered splitting it, but then one chapter would have been 2k+ words and the other would have been 5k+, and for some reason I thought people wouldn't like the inconsistency lol (Feel free to weigh in. I know a few of you have said you liked longer chapters, and I haven't gotten any nay-sayers, but still thought I might as well ask lol)

And thank you to the anons and @condy-wants-a-cookie for your bad roommate suggestions! I wasn't able to add them all in, but they were all appreciated nonetheless!

Word Count: 7,321

This morning you did sleep in, but that didn't make your day much better.

You were slightly hungover, to start, and you spent most of the day in a funk trying to avoid everyone.

This wasn't completely possible, seeing as you now lived with eight other people, but the others seemed to mostly get the hint that you wanted to be left alone.

The first real interaction you had was around noon as you poured yourself some cereal and Yondu and Peter came in the backdoor to tell you they just heard gunshots from the forest.

You barely glanced at them. "Hunters." you said. "Probably hunting pigeons, but more likely they're poaching deer or fox. Happens every year."

They seemed almost surprised by your blasé attitude at hearing there were gunshots, but did seem to relax a bit that you seemed so confident. You had said you grew up here, after all.

Peter was still a little nervous however. "Do they ever come this way?"

You look up to him, knowing what he was getting at. He wanted to make sure they wouldn't happen upon your house while anyone obviously not human was outside and put them all at risk. "No. I'm pretty sure it's just a man and his boys who live a couple miles away. I've never heard the shots come closer than a mile outside the property. You're fine."

Seemingly convinced they finally left you, but you did notice no one seemed to go out until well after the last of the shots were heard, and you assumed Peter must have warned the others to stay inside just in case.

After you ate you went upstairs to grab your music, fancying a walk. However, once you got there you caught Groot sticking his tendrils in the lock of the attic door.

"What you doing there?" you say, firm enough to get his attention, but gentle enough to hopefully not to scare him.

He turned to you, pulling back his vines, looking sorry. "I am Groot."

You shook your head. "Sorry buddy, I have no idea what you're saying, let's find someone who can translate." You beckoned him to come, holding out your hand.

Groot looked sheepish, like he wasn't sure he wanted to come, but eventually he did, toddling over to you and allowing himself to be picked up.

You carried him downstairs and into the sitting room, finding everyone but Mantis, Kraglin, and Rocket sitting at the table. You walked over and asked if anyone there could translate, sitting Groot on the table.

"Sure," Peter offered, "What's up?"

"Well, I found him growing his vines into the lock of the attic door and I just want to know what he was doing." Actually, you thought you knew what he was doing. It looked like he was trying to pick the lock, what you really wanted to know was why.

Gamora looked at the tree child with both confusion and intrigue. "Groot, why did you do that?"

"I am Groot."

"No buddy, she's not going to do that. She just wants to know what you were doing to her door." Peter answered.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I forgot we have to repeat the question for him. He doesn't know what you're saying. He was worried that you were going to be mad at him like you were to Rocket last night."

You were taken aback by this. "He can't unde-? But the first night you all got here-? I asked him a question and Drax translated his answer for me?"

Drax shrugged. "It was easier to make something up than explain he won't be able to understand you because neither of you have translators. What he had really told you was that he had no idea what you said."

Yondu and Peter looked at Drax like he was stupid. It wouldn't have taken much more effort to explain. He literally just did it.

You also look at Drax. "So this whole time he hasn't been able to understand a word I've said to him?" A realization hit you. "But wait- I'm pretty sure we-" you pointed a finger back and forth between you and them, "are speaking the same language??" You were wondering if they were trying to prank you.

Gamora looked at you apologetically. She would have corrected Drax when he made up an answer for Groot that first night, but she was too exhausted to deal with it, and afterwards it just never came up again. You had spent more and more time avoiding everyone anyway. "We're actually not speaking the same language. We all have translator chips, it's how we can all understand each other. It's standard where we're from. They work both ways. It's how you can understand us and how we can understand you. However, because neither you or Groot has one, he can't understand you." She didn't go into the fact that their translators didn't actually translate Groot, or how their understanding of him only came from time spent with him and Rocket's translations. She doubted they'd be there much longer for it to make a difference anyway.

"I see," you said. You frown. "I guess that explains why he never seemed to listen."

Peter lightly chuckled at that, as did Yondu.

"Anyway," Peter said, trying to bring the conversation back to what you came for. "What were you doing to her door?"

"I am Groot."

"He said he was trying to unlock it."

"Alright, kinda figured that, but why?"

Peter repeated the question to Groot and came back with the answer, "He said he was looking for a hiding spot?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"I am Groot."

"Oh that's right, you were playing hide and seek."

"Hmm. Well that's all fine, but the attic is off limits. It's locked for a reason." you say.

"She says you can't go in there, buddy. There are monsters in there."

You give him a strange look, but he gives his head a quick shake as if to tell you not to question it. You figured he probably thought the kid would be more likely to listen if he thought there were monsters and let it go.

Groots eyes went wide and he turned to you. "I am Groot?"

Yondu answered, fighting back a grin. "Yeah, really. Now run along before we feed you to them."

Peter smacked him in the arm as little Groot hopped off the table, and Yondu laughed and held up his hands in a "What?" gesture.

Almost on cue you then heard Kraglin call out, "Ready or not, here I come!" before walking into the sitting room and encountering Groot as he ran towards the door. He looked at Groot and laughed, "I don't think you know how this game works, buddy," before turning and leaving the room himself.

You also started to leave when Drax asked, "Why is the attic off-limits?"

Gamora shot him a look for being nosy but you answered anyway. "It's.. unsafe," you lie. "Old house, you know. Don't want anyone falling through the floor."

You leave them then, saying you're going out for a walk.

Your walk wasn't too long, just along the road a ways before turning back. When you got back to the house you decided to practice your archery some more. You may or may not have pretended that a certain someone's face was the target.

When you finally did come back inside you arrived to a commotion in the hall.

You didn't know what the fight was about. You didn't ask either. All you saw was Kraglin and Rocket standing in the hall arguing about some nonsense. Drax was also there, but he was sitting down on the bench tying his boots and seemed uninterested in the argument.

Then you saw Rocket go to bite Kraglin, miss, and then settle for lunging on him and Kraglin struggling to get him off. Drax didn't really do anything other than scold Rocket, and you suspected this must be so normal for him to witness that it just didn't register anymore.

Your nostrils flared and your eyes narrowed at the scene.

Rocket attacking and Kraglin flailing.

Peter came out of the sitting room, presumably to tell them to knock it off, then he saw the murderous look in your eyes and his sentence caught in his throat as he watched you storm over.

You grabbed Rocket by the scruff of the neck and roughly pulled him off, both to his and Kraglin's surprise. Rocket actually made a noise akin to a squeak.

The others watched as you wordlessly marched the fecker to the front door, earning many angry protests from the Raccoon on the way for you to let him go as he kicked and squirmed.

Hearing the sudden change in the commotion, this prompted Gamora and Yondu to join Peter in the doorway. Yondu, out of curiosity, and Gamora out of concern.

You jerked the door open, and told Rocket to take a walk before tossing him out like a rag doll, mercifully onto the grass. He landed and stared back in a mix of shock and anger, too stunned to think of running back towards you. "You can come back in when you stop wanting to being such a damn asshole." you told him, promptly shutting the door and spinning the deadbolt.

You didn't look at the others as you turned on your heels and made your way up the stairs to your room.

They stared at each other in the hallway, wondering if they had really just witnessed what they saw, and if they should do anything about it.

On one hand, you just literally threw their friend outside.

On the other, maybe it would cool him down to go for a walk?

In the end they decided not to intervene, see how it played out. Way they saw it there were two possible outcomes. One outcome, Rocket takes his time out and actually comes back calmer and ready to be civil. The other outcome, he spends his time out getting more pissed and then rips your face off when you finally let him back in.

The real outcome, however, was less conclusive.

You decided rather than waste the pasta one of the others bothered to save from the previous night, you'd re-make the sauce and heat the spaghetti and serve it for dinner that night.

You called the others to the kitchen and told them to serve themselves before leaving the kitchen. Fortunately there were no accusations of poison this time, but that could have been because Yondu saw which door of the kitchen you exited from and figured you were going to call Rocket back inside.

He was right.

You open the front door and call out into the open, "Hey, Rocket! If you've decided you want to play nice then come inside and eat!" You resisted the urge to call him 'shit-head' instead of his name. More flies with honey and all that.

You waited a bit and then saw Rocket turning the corner of the house to approach the front door. He didn't say anything, just grouchily shuffled inside and you followed in behind him. You didn't say anything either, trying not to antagonize too much.

When you saw everyone else was served you made a plate and took your dinner in your room. No one questioned. At the urging of Gamora they were still trying to give you your space.

They only hoped things would be less tense tomorrow.

***

The next time you were seen wasn't until a little before midnight, when Yondu happened to glance out the window as he was tucking into bed and saw your shadowy figure walking towards the forest in the moonlight.

He frowned. Once was odd. Twice only made him that much more curious. What was nearly the tipping point of his curiosity was the fact that he realized he would never hear you leaving the old house, which to him implied you were sneaking out. Sneaking out of your own house. The hell?

What the hell was out there that you kept disappearing to at night? Where you disappeared to when Rocket ruined dinner?

Next time he was going to stay up and catch you before you left.

***

Starting out things were indeed NOT less tense the next day.

Your day started out with Kraglin accidentally walking in on you when you had just gotten out of the shower. Fortunately for both of you you had literally just wrapped the towel around yourself before he opened the door, but that didn't make anything less awkward, or either of your startled screams less shrill.

He tried to apologize later, but you'd only responded with "Let's just never speak of it again."

Then you went to grab some breakfast, you thought toast would be nice. Only when you got into the kitchen the toaster was nowhere to be found. Maybe you put it in a cupboard? You opened the press where you might have put it, only to find your cooking pans instead.

That wasn't the particular cupboard where you kept your pans, however, and you began to have a sinking feeling as to what might have happened.

You opened another cupboard and finally found the toaster alongside the blender- again, not where they were supposed to be. You then went to find a knife, and wouldn't you know it, all your silverware was gone and replaced with towels.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do you like it?"

You turned to see Mantis and Drax beaming like they did a good deed. "What?"

"We re-arranged the kitchen." Drax said. "Rocket said it was a Terran custom and you'd be very happy."

You rub a hand down your face. Fecker pulled another prank. "And you believed Rocket why, exactly?"

Drax and Mantis shared a look, as if they just realized it wasn't a smart idea to believe Rocket. They only grimaced apologetically back at you with an "Um..."

After a moment Mantis asked if you were mad.

You look at them for a bit before saying, "No. I'm not mad. I'm not happy about it, but I'm not mad. But, you two are going to help me put everything back."

They nodded quietly and got to work. It took an hour to get it straight again.

After you finally got to eat you decided to tend your garden again. It didn't need much weeding, so you decided to work slow to avoid going back inside for a bit. Mantis had also come outside with you and went over to play on the swing. She had seemingly become quite fond of it in her short time here.

After perhaps ten minutes you heard a snap and a startled cry and turned to find Mantis now on the ground. The old rope had finally snapped.

Mantis looked up at you and sheepishly said, "Sorry, I broke your swing."

You look at her in exhaustion. "It's fine. Not your fault, it was old. You ok?"

Mantis nodded and headed back inside as she rubbed her smarted behind.

You turn back to your garden. Today might be another archery day.

Instead of archery you thought of another idea. Rocket had complained about sleeping in the crib at least five times since he got here, probably more when you weren't around to hear it. Maybe you could build him a little bed as a peace-offering. Maybe he'd be less insufferable if you fixed the problem he was always complaining about.

You already knew you had enough wood in the shed to do it, and you already knew the crib fit a 120 X 60 cm mattress, so you'd just build the bed to the same dimensions as the crib so the mattress would still fit- you weren't going to go to that much trouble for the shithead. And as a bonus, this was also another way to keep busy.

You sketched out a quick plan on an old notepad you kept in the work shed and got to work cutting the pieces.

It was a simple design, but one that still required the bed legs and headboard to be joined and clamped together, same as the footboard. This meant you wouldn't be finished by tonight, especially not if you decided to stain it, which was fine by you. You weren't exactly in a rush.

You did what you were able to of the bed frame before heading back inside, maybe a little more than an hour later to grab something quick for lunch. Rocket was already in the kitchen eating something out of a little packet that looked unfamiliar to you. More alien food, you thought.

He looked up at you as you walked in with a raised eyebrow. "What you been up to?"

You looked down to where his gaze met and saw you still had a bit of sawdust on your jeans. You brushed it away and said, "Nothing."

He eyed you before his expression changed to a grin. He thought he'd have a little fun with you, slight revenge for the previous day when you threw him outside. Nothing much, just something to take "Miss Cranky-Ass" down a peg. He looked at you innocently. "Hey, you want to try one of these? They're good."

You eye him suspiciously. Every instinct you had told you not to trust him.

Rocket could tell you weren't biting. "Look, I know things have been tense between is, but consider it a peace offering." He held out the bag and kept grinning.

Not a chance.

Peter walked into the kitchen at that moment, just the person you needed to see. You got his attention, "Hey, Peter, what's this little fecker trying to do to me?"

Peter looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"He's offering me whatever those purple things are, and I think you could forgive me for not trusting it right away."

Rocket made a show of looking offended, "I'd never-"

Then Peter got a look at the bag and shot Rocket an annoyed look. "Yeah, do not eat that." he warned. He looked at Rocket. "You know Terrans can't eat xanti-berries." He looked back at you, "Seriously, don't eat them. You'll be shitting yourself the rest of tonight and tomorrow."

Your eyes widened and you looked at Rocket bitterly. Your instincts had been right. Can't trust the little shit. And to think you were making him a bed so he didn't need to sleep in the crib.

Rocket was now snickering, saying to Peter, "Come on- I mean we know that's what happens to you-" More snickering. "But maybe it's just a you thing-" Snickering now turns to laughing. "Maybe- Maybe she'd be fine. AHAHA!"

The little beast was now fully laughing at his own joke.

"Yeah, no thanks," you say, turning to grab a granola bar instead.

Peter shooed still laughing Rocket out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry about him, he's-"

"An asshole?" you finish for him.

Peter rubbed the back of his head, "Yeah..." he said with an apologetic look. He could tell you were past tired of his friend's bullshit, which was bad because they hadn't even been there a full week yet.

You shook your head and went to eat in your room, maybe you'd scroll some tumblr.

***

Not much later after you had gotten bored refreshing the page, you thought you'd look for a book to read in the sitting room, and walked in on Rocket and Peter arguing over what to watch. This eventually lead to the remote being flung across the room and just narrowly missing the TV.

You rub your temples and sigh. "You know, if you break that, I'm not replacing it."

"Oh yeah, you think we're gonna replace it?" Rocket snarked.

You looked at them. "That's not what I said, is it? I said I'm not replacing it. Meaning if you break it, there just won't be one. I'm not going to reward bad behavior by replacing it if you break it."

You heard Rocket mutter, "Whatever," and not long after you started hearing the noises of them bickering and smacking at each other again.

"Enough!" you say in a loud, firm voice that honestly startled Peter a bit and caught the attention of Kraglin from the table where he was doing a puzzle he found on a shelf. Your desire to find a book forgotten you left the sitting room, saying, "God, you act like children!"

You passed Gamora on your way out and said, "How do you deal with them?!" You continued on without waiting for an answer and Gamora shot a disapproving look at the pair on the couch, clearly unhappy that they were still finding ways to piss you off.

You went back into the kitchen, retrieved a glass from the cupboard, the whiskey bottle from the other night from the fridge, and sat at the table.

Yondu walked in about ten minutes later. "Starting a little early, I see." He wasn't actually sure if it'd be early to start drinking by Terran customs or not, but he knew from when he still had his crew and the Eclector, his crew typically weren't allowed to start in until all their day's duties were done, which, not always, but usually wasn't until after dinner. Outward appearance would have suggested otherwise, but he kept a tighter ship than one might think. Couldn't have someone piss drunk on the job and fucking everything up, now could he? That's not to say the crew always listened... but they were well aware of the consequences of getting caught drunk on the job.

You only answered back with a, "There are glasses in the cupboard if you want some."

Yondu chuckled and went for a glass, not one to refuse a drink.

As soon as he sat down you stood up. "I'll be back." you announce.

Yondu poured himself a glass and you shortly returned with another bottle of whiskey from the cellar. "Bottle was almost gone," you explain, setting the new bottle on the table and re-taking your seat.

Yondu looked at you, amused, but also mildly wondering where you had retrieved a second bottle from. He had never been bothered to explore the cellar. If he had he would have known you kept most of your unopened alcohol down there, where it could stay cool without needing a refrigerator.

Yondu took a sip, and almost recoiled, having not expected this Terran stuff to be quite so strong. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, mind you, but he had honestly just assumed Terran whiskey would be weak. From experience with Peter, the boy always got piss drunk after only barely a couple shots of Xandarian liquor, which wasn't very strong, so he just assumed Terrans had a naturally lower tolerance. Now he just supposed Quill was a lightweight.

"Anything on your mind?" Yondu asked. If you were sitting here drinking alone surely there must be.

You glance up. "Nope," you say, as you down the rest of your glass. You pour another.

"Uh huh... right. That's why you look like a grump-ass sitting here drinking all by yourself then."

You give him a look, gesturing to him with your glass. "You're sitting right there aren't you? Looks like I ain't alone."

Yondu chuckled and shook his head. Cheeky shit. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

Yondu grinned and pointed at you knowingly. "Gotcha."

"What?" you say, confused by his tone.

"Ya said ya don't wanna talk about it. Means there's somethin' on yer mind."

You look at him through narrow eyes and take another sip.

"What is it? Tired of Rocket's shit? Don't blame ya. Rat can be a real asshole."

You sigh.

"So it is the rat, then?"

"Quit," you say, taking another drink and looking at him sternly.

Yondu held up his hands and backed off. "Alright. I won't push it."

"Push what?" came Peter's voice from the doorway as he and Kraglin walked into the kitchen. Peter grabbed a snack from the pantry and tossed one to Kraglin.

"Cool, didn't realize we were starting a party" Kraglin joked, referring to the two whiskey bottles on the table and you and Yondu sitting there with your glasses.

Figuring you might as well offer them some you motioned to the cupboard again. "Glasses up there. Might as well join us."

You didn't have to ask them twice. Peter got down a couple glasses and Kraglin poured them some drink.

Peter nodded to the two bottles and joked asking if you were trying to see who could outdrink the other.

You shrugged. "Nah. If we were to do that, he'd need to catch up."

Yondu laughed. "You don't wanna go there, missy. I'll drink ya under the table before you knew what hit you." He chuckled and elbowed Kraglin in the arm, who snickered, knowing full well Yondu could drink like a tank.

You rolled your eyes. "Like I said, you'd need to catch up to me first. I'm about four ahead of you.

Yondu's head snapped back to you glancing from your drink to you. "Four?" You must be joking. You weren't even tipsy yet that he could tell.

You were unable to hold back a laugh. "Nah, I'm only messing with you." You downed your glass. "I'm two ahead after that one." You poured yourself another glass. You grinned slightly. "Again, do I need to wait for you to catch up?"

Yondu grinned at you, his eyes almost inquisitive. "Ya really sure ya wanna do that?" He was confident you didn't stand a chance.

Peter laughed. "What, you scared she'll outdrink you?"

Yondu rolled his eyes and downed his glass. "No. Jus' concerned she'll hurt herself tryin'," he laughed.

Now you rolled your eyes. "Fine. Don't. I'll accept your admission of defeat." you say with a shrug as you take another sip. This was almost definitely the buzz talking. You weren't a lightweight, but you still weren't exactly the heaviest drinker.

Peter and Kraglin hid giggles behind their glasses as Yondu gave you a hard look and poured himself another glass and downed it.

"There, I'm caught up." he said, pouring himself another glass to match you. "I'll give you one more chance to back out, sweetheart."

You down your glass. "I ain't your sweetheart, grandpa."

Yondu narrowed his eyes and downed his as well. "Then it's on, pipsqueak."

"Ooh-hoho. You're gonna regret that." you say, unable to hold back a grin as you poured another round for the two of you.

Peter and Kraglin were now openly laughing at the show as they sipped their drinks.

Yondu tipped his glass to you and took a sip. "We'll see." He wasn't really concerned with the drinking game. He was fairly certain he'd win. He did, however, think the whiskey might loosen your tongue, get you to talk to him. Maybe he'd eventually get around to asking why you lived in such a big place by yourself or what was in the forest that you kept walking into.

You followed his lead, sipping your current glass rather than downing it right away. Maybe it was the buzz starting to talk, but you suddenly were curious about something. "I don't think you guys ever told me why you needed to go into hiding in the first place."

"Fury didn't tell you?" Peter asked.

"Nope. He was too busy moving you guys in and changing up my house and getting into my shit to mention it." you say, taking another sip.

Yondu also sipped. Tongue loosening: Check.

"Well it's kinda a long story," Peter began, "but short version, we were hired to do a job for these people, and we did it, but then Rocket insulted them, and stole their shit, and now they've vowed vengeance."

"And they ain't the forgivin' type." Kraglin added.

"No. Definitely not," said Yondu mournfully, taking another sip. Bad enough his crew mutinied and he blasted his ship to hell, now he had to go into hiding. Yondu Udonta doesn't hide... unless forced to by the Nova Corps because he joined his boy's little team of galaxy savers, apparently... He supposed it was better than jail. He should really thank Peter for pulling those strings sometime.

"Anyway, so when the Nova Corps heard about it they insisted we go into hiding until they could try and smooth it over."

"Hmm." You say, finishing your glass. "So they're trying to beg for your lives, is that it?"

Peter shrugged awkwardly. "More or less."

"They must really like you." you laughed, looking down as Yondu poured everyone another round.

"They should," Yondu said. "He saved the galaxy twice."

Peter looked at him and he tried to hide how his heart swelled. Receiving praise from the blue man for things other than thievery was still new to him, but he didn't exactly hate it.

Yondu ignored his gaze. He wasn't about to get caught up in sentiment. He changed the subject. "Why don't ya tell us a little about yerself?"

You pretended to think a bit before taking a drink and saying, "Hmm... Nope."

Yondu held back a sigh. Tongue loosening: Un-Check. He tipped back his glass and nodded to you, as if to challenge.

You tipped your glass back in turn and as you poured another Yondu taunted, "I think that was five now, sure ya don't wanna slow down?"

You give him a patronizing look. "Is that your way of saying you give up?" You started to giggle behind your hand when Yondu's expression read 'Oh please.' and he finished his glass to keep the pour even between you.

Kraglin grinned wide and nudged Peter, "Eh, Pete, tell her about that time you got stabbed for flirting with that A'askvarii chick."

Peter's eyes widened and he looked at Kraglin, "Not cool, dude!"

Yondu chuckled and you just looked at Peter inquisitively, having no idea what an 'A'askvarii' was. Before you could ask Yondu spoke up.

"If I remember correctly he didn't get stabbed for that one. Kree girl tried to rip out his thorax. He got stabbed for trying to pull a runner on a Rajack girl." Yondu said, grinning before taking another drink.

Peter glared at him. "New topic." He looked at you. "What got you into archery?"

You sighed through your nose. You supposed it was an innocent enough question. "Dad taught me. How'd you'd come about living in space?"

Peter made a face and downed his drink. "Uh, long story, another time..." How would he explain that the reason he was in space was because his Celestial father sent the man sitting next to you to abduct him... and make it not sound awful? Better think of something lighter. "Uh... Got any family around or is it just you?"

You eyes narrowed. Your former giddiness visibly left you.

'Oh no.' Peter thought. That apparently wasn't lighter... You must not get along with your family. He tried to fix it. "Ok, touchy subject- I mean... Oh look, your glass is empty!" He quickly poured you and him another round.

You actually almost laughed at that, and a slight grin cracked your face.

Yondu saw how your expression changed and incorrectly assumed that it meant you weren't actually that irritated by Peter's question. He then took that incorrect assumption to pose his own question. "So, you didn't quite answer the other night, and I'm still curious. How come it's just you in this big old house?"

This prompted Kraglin to add his own question. "Yeah, and I've been wondering too, how's come you don't keep any photos?"

Your glare returned. You sat your glass down and stood up saying in a slightly slurred speech, "I have to pee." and excused yourself from the table, stumbling a bit as the alcohol hit you. You righted yourself, earning a chuckle from Peter and Kraglin, who knew too well that it's always easy to believe you aren't as drunk as you are until you stand up and the room spins.

Yondu also laughed, but internally cursed himself. He wasn't gonna get any answers like this. He hoped that maybe there was still a chance to save it when you got back. He saw a hint of pain in your eyes just before you left, and it made him want to know why. He felt he was so close to putting the pieces together.

***

You head to the bathroom irritated at being asked the personal questions. Leave it up to your new house mates to ruin your buzz.

You only got more irritated upon entering the bathroom, however.

Someone had left their wet towels on the floor. Rolling your eyes in annoyance you kicked them aside to make your way to the toilet. Mercifully you didn't find any unpleasant surprises waiting inside it like you had been. Peter must have gotten the "Flush the damn toilet!" message through to Drax. However, once you had done your business you found that someone couldn't have been bothered to replace the toilet roll properly, just having sat it on the roll holder.

You sigh irritably and replace it properly yourself. Yes, it could have been worse. They could have not replaced it at all and forced you to do a mini walk of shame to the sink cupboard to retrieve it, but you were too cranky to look at the bright side.

Then you went to wash your hands, only to see someone had smeared toothpaste all over the sink, a big pet peeve of yours. Your nostrils flared and you muttered to yourself as you washed that you weren't going to clean it. Screw that.

You went to dry your hands, and find there was no towel to dry them. You gritted your teeth and ripped a towel from the small closet, hanging it on the hook when you were finished.

Before leaving the bathroom you tried to gather yourself, taking a deep breath and telling yourself to calm down. It would be ok. You were just a little drunk. It wasn't that big of a deal. You were going to go back out and try to have some fun drinking that blue bastard under the table. (This, of course, was the alcohol talking. False confidence. You really did never stand a chance of outdrinking the Ravager captain.)

You start to open the door, and that's when you reach your breaking point.

***

After you left, Kraglin nudged Peter again, whispering the words, "A'askvarii girl," to him and giggling like a child.

Peter smacked him in the arm, "Quit it! That was one time! And I was only trying to get information! Tell him Yondu!" He tried to look angry, but the whiskey was having its usual effect on him, making him a giggly little bitch.

Yondu only grinned and shook his head. "I dunno boy, you were a little too convincing if ya ask me... Nobody asked you to sleep with her."

Kraglin bust out laughing at Peter's face, which was an odd mix of horror, drunken mirth, and "Dammit, you got me." He playfully shoved Peter and Peter shoved back with a "You suck!" which prompted Kraglin to squeeze his side, which of course made Peter jolt with a laugh and smack him away.

Kraglin only did it again and Peter laughed out a "Quit it!" while smacking him again.

Yondu just rolled his eyes and chuckled, sipping his whiskey as he watched his boys mess around like they did when they were younger on the Eclector.

After a pinch to the knee Peter bolted off his chair, only to have Kraglin follow, laughing, "Come back 'ere, ya coward!" He got Peter in a headlock and started to give him a noogie.

Peter laughed and managed to worm away, taking off into the hallway.

Yondu watched in amusement as Kraglin followed Peter out of the kitchen, and listened as the sounds of their shenanigans took them from the front door down the hall. That's when he heard the sound of a door slamming and a loud cry of "OW! Mother---FUCKer!" that sounded suspiciously like you.

'Oh shit,' he thought, standing from the table to go inspect the damage.

***

It had all happened fairly quickly.

You had opened the bathroom door maybe a foot before it slammed back in your face. Literally in your face. You recoiled and swore loudly, the flash of pain made your eyes water and you saw red before you even realized you were bleeding.

Kraglin and Peter jerked away from the door in startled shock after hearing you cry out. They had only been horsing around when their antics caused Peter to fall back into the door just as you opened it. They jumped when the door slammed back open with an incredible BANG against the wall, and their eyes went wide when they saw you standing there, murderous rage in your eyes and blood running from your nose down your chin.

Maybe it was because he was the nearest person, or maybe it was because he instinctually held up his hands and said "Sorry! Sorry! It was an accident!" but Peter was the one you lunged at.

You grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall, nearly a week's worth of frustration and rage channeled through you as his body connected with the plaster.

Peter, not just going to stand there and let himself get beaten up, tried to grab your wrists and get you off him, but you evaded his attempts and punched him in the stomach.

This slightly knocked the wind from him, but he managed to grab your wrist and push off from the wall. He spun you around and tried to restrain you in a bear hug, saying, "Take it easy!" but you only dropped to your knees and lurched forward, flipping him over your back towards the front door.

Kraglin looked to Yondu, who watched from outside the kitchen door near the end of the hall. His gaze asked what to do, but Yondu only shrugged and didn't try to intervene. He knew Peter could handle himself and he was sure you needed to let off some steam, so he just enjoyed the show.

The commotion brought the others in though. Gamora and Mantis flew down the stairs, while Rocket, Drax, and Groot stepped out of the sitting room to witness the fight with wide eyes. They didn't know what had happened, but you looked ready for the kill, and to the few who could see it from their vantage, you looked almost terrifying with your bared teeth full of blood.

You now straddling Peter, attempting to throw a punch when he blocked it and flipped the two of you over. He breathlessly told you to settle down as you struggled, but you wouldn't hear it. If anything it seemed to make you more pissed off, and Gamora's cries for the two of you to stop fell on deaf ears.

You kneed Peter in the stomach and flipped the two of you back over. You weren't sure what next possessed you, but you threw your head down and sank your teeth into his shoulder.

Peter threw his head back and cried out in pain, mixing in a few curses as well.

Yondu cocked his head, seeming unsure on whether he wanted to be impressed or not to see you, Miss SHIELD Agent, fight dirty. Kraglin finally spoke up to say, "Hey, hey, now! No bitin'!" as if he were refereeing a wrestling match.

Right about then you felt large strong hands grip you about the waist, surprising you into releasing your bite on Peter as they pulled you off of him. The arms moved from your waist to secure your wrists and before you knew it you were being restrained in half a bear-hug by one very strong arm as you were turned away from Peter and pulled towards the front door.

Drax paused to open the door and, turning you to face him, flatly said. "You need to take a walk."

"Drax!" Gamora hissed, appalled that he was throwing their host out of her own house, despite the circumstances.

Rocket, of course, laughed and asked how you liked it, like an asshole. It was only then he saw the blood around your nose and mouth and his expression changed slightly to reflect his shock, now wondering if you had actually taken a chunk out of Peter when you bit him. Were you some kind of maniac?

You spat blood at him, only for it to land on the floor at his feet as he was standing too far away, and then slammed the door behind you on your way out.

Gamora came the rest of the way down the stairs to inspect Peter's shoulder, seeing the blood on his shirt.

"It's fine," he assured, "It's hers, not mine. See, she didn't break skin." He pulled back his shirt to prove it. "I think I accidentally broke her nose though. That's what started it."

Gamora looked at him in confusion. "You broke her nose?! What the hell, Peter!"

"It was an accident!" he said again.

Gamora took a step back. "Ok. Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."

"Well, we were all drinking-"

Gamora threw up her hands. "Oh, well that explains everything!" she interrupted bitterly. Dumb stuff almost always seemed to happen when those guys and alcohol mixed.

Rocket spoke up. "You were drinking and didn't invite us? Rude."

Gamora threw him an unamused look. "Not the point, Rocket."

Peter tried again. He explained he and Kraglin joined you and Yondu drinking, you got up to use the bathroom, he and Kraglin started horsing around, and one thing lead to another until he fell back against the door as you were coming out of the bathroom and it must have hit you and pissed you off.

Gamora looked at him. So it really had just been a big drunken accident. She also then realized Drax had not only just threw their host out of their own house, but threw you out while you were also drunk, broken and bleeding.

They were sooo getting kicked out.

"We should call her back in." said Gamora. "You shouldn't have thrown her out, Drax. This is her home. We're only guests."

Drax looked confused. "Why? It worked with Rocket. I thought I was helping?"

"Don't bother trying," said Yondu nonchalantly. "Bet she's already well into the forest by now."

They looked at him. "How would you know that?" Gamora asked.

He shrugged. "It's where she went the other night she got mad. Saw her heading there out the window when Rat there destroyed the kitchen and ruined diner." He left out the bit that he'd also seen you head there in the middle of the night too. He was saving that bit of mystery for himself to solve.

Rocket just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms at being called out for his past grievances. It got cleaned, didn't it?

"I'm sure she'll come back when she's ready," Yondu added. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to go look for you, if for no other reason than to see where you kept going to out there, but he had a feeling that if you didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find you. He might have some experience tracking, but he couldn't also forget what you did for a living. While he might not know much about what your job entailed, he got the feeling you weren't just some desk-jocky.

Besides, if you found your way back, drunk, the other night, he was sure you could do it again.

Begrudgingly Gamora agreed to wait.

And wait they did.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #Groot #Drax #rocket raccoon #mantis #gamora #star lord #drinking #fighting #mystery #room mates

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

Text

The Scar

Requested by the awesome @gothicsprinkles who wanted funny and soft and only got... embarrassment instead xD Forgive me!

It’s really warm so Corin doesn’t bother wearing his shirt to bed. He knows he will have a human Mandalorian heater attaching himself to Corin the second they settle for the night and if he’s going to get any sleep with Din doing that in this kind of temperature, Corin has to wear as few layers as possible.

After a quick check on the little bean, sound asleep in his crib, Corin crawls into bed and settles next to where Din is propped up by pillows and is waiting to attack.

He’s not wearing his armor, only his helmet and the layers of regular clothing, feeling secure in the bosom of the Covert, and it’s nice to see him somewhat relaxed for a change. It would be even nicer to see him entirely relaxed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants like Corin usually wears to bed, but Corin knows not to press his good luck. This is good. It’s more than enough.

To Corin’s surprise, Din doesn’t just attach himself to him like a shady rumor, but lies on his side, removes his right glove and reaches out to draw light fingertips over the scar left by a blaster shot that should have claimed Corin’s life but ended up saving it in countless ways instead.

Corin sucks in his stomach a little, despite knowing he’s never been in better shape in his life. He just can’t help it.

“You were a Trooper for so many years,” Din mumbles, his touch light on the scar and soon trailing over his abs, “how is it that you have so few scars?”

Looking down at his own torso, Corin knows the answer but he’s not proud of it. “At first, I had good luck and… friends on my side. That kept me safe most of the time.” He holds out his arm and shows a barely visible scar, a really faint line across his upper arm. “I did take a shot to the arm once, though.” Corin lowers his arm and places his hand on Din’s back instead. “After they… After that, I just made sure not to be at the front wherever we were sent. There were plenty of young idiots like me looking to make a name for themselves and play the hero, I just let them. They were the ones who got the scars. Or got killed. I just focused on getting my ass transferred to the Blizzard Force.”

Din’s helmet nods thoughtfully.

“What’s the scar on your back from?” Corin asks, having seen and noticed it earlier when they… well, he’d noticed it.

“Oh, that.” Din gives a quiet, amused laugh. “Well, it was my third bounty job and-”

His life as a Mandalorian has left Din with a whole bunch of scars and one crazy story after another to go with them. Corin goes from smothering laughter behind a hand to staring with horrified wonder at how this man is still alive.

“What about that one?” Corin eventually asks, reaching out and pulling Din’s sleeve up a little to reveal a thin, modest scar on his underarm.

“That? That’s nothing. Nothing at all. Ignore that one.” Din tugs his sleeve down and covers it back up. He turns to trail fingertips over Corin’s scar in silence.

At first, Corin’s gut instinct is to apologize, thinking he’d overstepped and accidentally uncovered some painful memory, but then his brain points out how there had been no hurt or defensiveness to Din’s voice. No, it has sounded more like… embarrassment?

Corin’s curiosity sits up and pays attention.

“Din…” Corin drawls, sliding his hand up from Din’s back to gently squeeze the man’s neck and has him arching into the touch with a faint sound of approval. “Din, tell me about the scar on your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” Din mumbles. Definitely embarrassed!

“Come on…” Corin whines playfully, shaking Din a little by the scruff. “Tell meeeeeee…”

Din answers by manhandling Corin over on his side so Din can curl up behind him and hold him tight, too tight to squirm away. “I told you, it was nothing. Sleep now. You’re tired.”

“I’m not tired. Tell me about the scar on your arm, Din Djarin.”

“Shhhhh.” Din shushes him and when Corin lifts his head to glare back at him, Din shoves it back down against the pillow. “Shhhhhh.”

Fine. Din wins the battle, but he has not won the war.

Paz has picked his laser cannon apart and is cleaning each piece with as much affection as he shows Raga. He glances up with mild surprise when Corin sits down next to him in the common area. “What do you want?”

Corin glances over and sees Din is busy talking to aforementioned Raga by the door and decides to go for it. “Din has a scar on his right arm. His underarm. Do you know how he got it?”

Several things happen at once. Paz sits up straight, Din makes a startled sound and bolts towards them, and Raga trips Din.

Corin hears Din’s impact with the ground, his furious shout when Raga holds him down with a painful knee to his lower back and the frankly scary strength of her arms, but his focus is on Paz who draws a long and deep breath like a man about to tell a story worth hearing.

“He hasn’t told you about that, has he?” Paz says, reaching out and placing an oil-covered and heavy hand on Corin’s shoulder. “Allow me.”

“Paz, I will shoot you in the face!” Din shouts.

“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” Raga tuts and shoves his helmet down, visor first, to smack against the floor.

“I was fifteen when I got my first jetpack and my father started training me.” Paz sounds nostalgic, before giving a faint shake of his helmet and sighing as he gestures towards Din. “Back then, Din was a little twig who had yet to take the Creed and he was ‘not’ happy about that.”

Din tries to buck Raga off but can only bite back a pained, but mostly angry, sound when she digs her knee in deeper and wrings one of his arms.

“So, one night,” Paz continues, sliding his arm around Corin’s shoulders and maneuvering him over to sit next to him so they both can look at Din, “the little womp rat decided he was going to grab my jetpack and show everyone how he was a natural talent at flying. That he was as good as the older children.”

Corin struggles against a smile. “Is that so?”

Even Raga cackles as she has to grab Din’s other arm as well to keep him pinned down when he struggles even harder to free himself.

“Indeed.” Paz says. “The brat wormed his way into my room, grabbed my jetpack, went into the hallway and put it on. That pack was designed for me, not his baby-ass, which meant that when he activated it at full throttle, it went as well as you can probably imagine.”

Corin is losing the fight against not laughing.

“I woke up to his scream growing fainter as he zoomed down the hallway.” Paz says. “I ran out and saw jetfire and his tiny feet as they blew around a corner and I ‘knew’ what had just happened. I chased after him. If he had been keeping a steady course, I would never have been able to catch up, but lucky for both of us; Din managed to bump into every door, both walls and occasionally the ceiling as he raced down the hallway. Screaming his head off. Eventually I caught up with him in one of the training rooms that had been left open and he decided to end his journey by flying smack up into the corner of the room and get stuck in one of the climbing ropes up there.”

“By now the grown ups are gearing up and preparing for battle because they think we’re under attack.” Raga supplies with glee.

Din gives up fighting and just drops his helmet, visor first yet again, to the floor with a thump.

“Din was bawling, the adults were freaking out, so it was up to me to save the day.” Paz’ voice is brimming with obnoxious delight. “I climbed up there, managed to untangle the little idiot and got him ‘and’ my jetpack down. Luckily his thick head hadn’t suffered too much during his rodeo, but he had busted up his arm pretty good. He was wailing so loud it took about two minutes before Davarax found us and he wasn’t happy.” A fond laughter. “He had to explain to the rest of the Tribe it had only been an illegal jetpack joyride, not an actual invasion by outsiders, while I had to bring the troublemaker to the bone-setter and wipe snot and tears off that face of his.”

Din is thumping his helmet regularly against the floor before he suddenly lifts his t-visor to glare at Paz. “I hate you.”

Paz stares at Din for a heartbeat and a half, then turns his t-visor to Corin. “Has he told you about his first dancing lesson?”

“PAZ!” Din’s bellow echoes through the entire building.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Poor Din #Curious Corin #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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devil-in-those-eyes · 4 years ago

Text

Joke Part 2- Mat Barzal

Okay, I really didn’t think there would many people who wanted a part two, but if it’s wanted, there might be a part three. I hope you guys enjoy.

Warnings: None? Maybe swearing? I wrote the first half months ago, so my memory if foggy.

“You’re leaving… already?” Jesse and Tito exclaimed together, not missing a beat as you slid you chair back from the brunch table and finishing the last bit of your coffee.

“Not all of us can laze around on Sunday’s.” You answered with a smile, pulling your coat on and grabbing your purse.

Everyone let out grunts and groans that sounded close to displease, but you shook your head and rolled your eyes. You waved goodbye to your friends and smiled at Jesse as he tilted his head back to grin at you as you passed but what, or who, caught your eye was sitting to his left.

Mat sat with his back leaned into the chair, looking the most relaxed out of everyone with one hand in his lap and the other around the black mug of coffee. Dressed in a dark grey sleeve and black jeans, he looked delicious with his hair getting more unruly as the days went on, leaving his scruff and giving you butterflies the whole time.

Mat looked up from his mug and at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You mumbled a goodbye, fighting to your cheeks from turning red and keeping a neutral smile on your face. You made your way out of the restaurant, ready to start running errands before you started your work week. New York was somewhat quiet, a small amount of people buzzing around and leisurely enjoying their Sunday.

“Y/N, wait up,” You heard behind you after you got a few steps away from the restaurant.

You turned in your boots to see Mat had just walked out the doors and walking towards you. Your heart clenched and pushed your hands into the pocket of your jacket, “what’s up?”

“I, uh, what are you doing Tuesday night?”

Your eyebrows pulled together, confused by his question as your head suddenly started whirling because was he asking you out? And if he was asking you out, what changed his mind?

“You should come to the game,” he cleared his throat, his hands fisting inside the front pocket of his black jeans. “I know Jesse has an extra ticket, figured it might as well go to you.”

Might as well. Almost like an afterthought, to keep the ticket from going to waste. Normally, you wouldn’t have picked up on his words like that but because you already felt inadequate compared to him and his women he chose to interact with, it was all you could focus on.

“Oh,” you breathed, struggling hard to shake off the disappointment you felt because for a split second you thought he wanted to hangout. “Um.”

“I just thought his ticket would go to waste,” Mat shrugged, playing it off sweet and innocent, as if he didn’t realize he was digging himself a deeper hole. “Jesse always talks about how much you like hockey.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and took a step back, watching his eyes go a little confused as he watched your feet step back. “Maybe,” you answered, giving a tight smile. “Have a good day, Barz.”

Have a good day, Barz?

How did Mat go from Maty, your knight and shinning armor one night, to being Barzy in a matter of less than twelve hours? Mat wasn’t entirely sure where he went wrong and for the next few days he kept going over Sunday morning, while trying to subtly stalk your Instagram. That Sunday morning was beautiful, he woke up with dusty cobwebs on his brain but the second he watched you walk into the restaurant in jeans and a comfy, oversized sweater, he was wide awake. You were quiet in your seat, chugging down coffee like a champ and keeping up with the twenty different conversations while catching Mat’s eyes every few minutes.

Mat thought maybe things changed between the two of you Saturday night, he could still feel your body pressed against his, your warm hands against his chest. The second your hand cupped his jaw, your eyes pleading to walk away, he felt his anger melt away. You were warm against his hot blooded body, calming him down before he realized just how angry that dude made him.

He really wanted you at the game Tuesday night, he wanted to see your face light up the second him and the boys hit the ice. How much Mat knew about you was because of Jesse, because his two best friends were in love with you and just rattled off facts. Mat knew about your job, who your top three hockey teams were (while taking deep pride that the Isles were your number one). He knew what music you liked and what you liked to do for fun. Mat paid more attention to you than you realized, but he had gone wrong somewhere, and he thought asking you to the game was his way of righting it. Except he faltered when you gave him a confused look and he fumbled over his words, feeling like a thirteen year old boy asking out his cooler and totally out of his league crush.

“Have you ever considered just… I don’t know, maybe asking Y/N out?” Tito asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm as he and Mat sat in the locker room after the game.

“You dick, I tried.” Mat answered, groaning. “It’s like she doesn’t even wanna give me the time of day.”

“Huh, wonder why.” Tito mumbled, but Mat definitely heard him and clenched his jaw. “Listen,” Tito lifted his head and cleared his throat, “Jess and I wanna get drinks, why don’t you just… steal her away?”

Mat stared at Tito, wondering if that would really work. He had no doubt that Jesse would be more than happy for Mat to take Y/N off his hands, considering Jesse mentioned them getting together every chance he got, but would Y/N really go off with him? She seemed distracted and distant two days ago. Mat wanted to reach out, something was drawing him to her and he just wanted to keep talking to her, but he didn’t have her number and didn’t want to deal with the way Jesse would look like a Cheshire cat when Mat asked for it. So, he settled for hoping that you’d show up to the game.

And to his shock, you did. It wasn’t like you haven’t been to games, because you’ve been to plenty to support Tito and the boys, but now Mat was one of the boys you were supporting and it made his heart flutter knowing that.

Tito and Mat walked out of the locker room, just after Matt and Sydney bid their goodbyes to Jesse and you. You looked cute, already bundled up for the early November snow in your tan pea coat already done up, your hands holding the New York Islanders knit pom hat that Jesse got for you not that long ago. Your smile was bright, but as you turned away from Matt and Sydney and locked eyes with Mat, it faltered and he noticed your hands start twisting the hat in a nervous habit.

“Great game, boys,” You breathed, smiling at them and welcoming Tito’s warm hug, patting his back and letting your hand fall on his tight stomach as he stood with his arm around your shoulders.

“You see that goal Barzy scored for you?” Tito asked, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking at you. Your heart stopped and your cheeks went pale instead of pink as he said, “Pretty hot, eh?”

Mat ran his fingers through his hair and you could have sworn his cheeks had gone pink, “Shut up, Tito.”

As Mat turned his eyes onto you, you quickly looked away just in time to see Jesse nod at Tito, “You ready to head to the bar?”

“Yes!” Tito exclaimed but you pushed against Tito’s side and his arm dropped from your shoulders.

“I made your asses food,” you looked away from Tito and at Jesse. “You told me they wanted to come over, asshole.”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck but smirked before motioning to Mat, “Well, Barz doesn’t wanna come out, you two head back and enjoy the food.”

Your eyes shot to Mat and noticed how he looked like he wanted the world to swallow him up, he was avoiding your eyes and glaring at his two friends. Disappointment settled inside your chest because it was clear to you that he didn’t want to go anywhere with you, so as soon as the boys were out of ear shot, you’d let him off the hook.

You rolled your eyes and grumbled about how much you hated Jesse, turning on your heel and leaving the three boys. You had taken this way many times, so you knew the way to the car park where Jesse and the boys had parked and even though you were still annoyed at Jesse, you couldn’t help but join the conversation about the game.

Tito and Mat seemed to be on a high about the game and you were proud of them, as the three boys relived their goals and assists you couldn’t stop the smile on your face but that smile soon left when you reached the doors and stood outside by Jesse and Mat’s cars.

You sighed after you said your goodbyes to Jesse and Tito and grabbed out your phone, about to order and Uber, and when Tito and Jesse got into Jesse’s car you went to go speak to tell Mat he didn’t have to do anything with you but he beat you to it.

“So, what’d you make us for dinner?” Mat asked, still resting against the side of his car, his hands in the front pockets of his jacket.

“Uh, what?” You asked, lifting your head from your phone and looking at him. He was smirking, his hazel eyes looking dark under the night sky and it made your heart flutter because he still hadn’t gotten rid of the scruff and it grew. “Oh, no, Mat. You don’t have to come over.”

“I don’t?” He asked, tilting his head but still smirking.

“No, I mean, why would you?” You asked, huffing out a smile. “I’m gonna get an Uber, you can catch up to the boys and ride out on your high.”

Mat watched you for a hot second, licking hit bottom lip. “Nah, you’re not taking an Uber and I’m not going out tonight, I’m gonna hangout with you.”

“Mat,” you groaned as he unlocked his car and pulled the passenger side door open and he motioned for you to get in. You grimaced, “Mat, you don’t want to hangout with me. I know you don’t.”

Mat didn’t bother arguing with you. He just lowered his eyes, still smirking and pushed off of his car while unlocking it, “Get in the car, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupted deep inside you at the low grumble falling past his lips. You made your way to the passenger side of the car and got in his car, rubbing your hands together as he started his car and let it run for a few minutes.

The ride to your apartment was quiet other than music softly playing between the both of you, it was like the butterflies had paralyzed you and you forgot what it was like to act around a human being. You could barely remember the last time you felt this nervous around a guy and what was more annoying was how relaxed Mat looked as he sat in the drivers seat.

He had one hand on the steering wheel while propping his elbow up on the window sill, the other lightly resting on the gear shift. Every once in a while he rolled his head from side to side, keeping his eyes on the road, but a few times he had taken small glances at you.

How come Mat got to look so perfect while you felt like you were twisted in knots. It was like he was totally fine with spending his evening with you, like he wasn’t actually wishing he didn’t get stuck with you.

Which again, was a joke because there’s no way Mat was fine with Jesse and Tito finally shoving you onto him.

You fiddled with your keys once you reached your door and as you popped it open, you decided to give Mat one last chance to walk away. You turned in the middle of your doorway and sighed.

“Whaaat?” Mat asked, dragging the word out and almost making you smile with that boyish gleam in his eyes.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, but seriously, you don’t have to hangout with me,” You answered, taking off the hat and pushing your hair off of your neck. “I know you’d rather be with your friends.”

“Y/N,” he said your name slowly and lifted his hand to the wall beside your door. As he leaned in closer, you could smell the cologne that had been teasing you the whole way home. “I’m getting the feeling that it’s you who doesn’t want to hangout with me.”

“What?” You asked, shaking your head. “It’s just,”

“Just, what?” He asked, cutting you off. He saw something in your face that he didn’t like because his eyes softened and he lost the joking smile on his mouth, “I actually want to be here with you, Y/N, but if you don’t want me to stay, then I won’t.”

You took a second to let his words sink in as you nibbled on your lower lip. Realizing that Mat might actually rather spend the high of his win with you, you found yourself murmuring, “So, you didn’t ask me to the game as an after thought?”

In that moment, Mat realized where he had gone wrong Sunday morning. Understanding filled his eyes and he tilted his head to the side. He slowly stepped towards you, dropping his hand from the wall and resting his shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Definitely not,” He murmured, his voice matching yours.

Your cheeks heated up and you lowered your eyes, trying to hide the way your cheeks filled with pink but Mat had seen it and found himself smiling softly.

“Chicken pasta sound good?” You asked.

“I’m starving,” Mat grinned and you backed away, letting him into your apartment.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl islanders #nhl imagine

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plazmafields · 4 years ago

Text

“You asked to see me?”

Cullen lifted his head from his work to lock eyes with the mage in his doorway. He sighed as he gestured for Dorian to sit.

“Yes. I have a…problem, of my own creation, that I could use some advice on.”

Dorian lowered slowly into the seat across the desk from Cullen, curiously raising an eyebrow. “I’ll see how I can help.”

“Thank you,” Cullen smiled softly before clearing his throat to continue, “There’s…a person who I continue to find catching my eye, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’d really like them to know how I feel, but I don’t think I have the confidence to tell them with words.”

Dorian blinked several times, a bit taken aback that Cullen was so upfront with his ask for romantic help.

“Well,” he began, shifting forward in his seat, crossing one leg over the other, “I am certainly no expert in women—"

“I never said they were a woman.”

Dorian’s mouth still hung open from his comment. He shut it quickly and nodded, silently asking Cullen to continue.

The Commander sighed, running a hand through his groomed curls. “I’ll be honest: I’ve never really…courted anyone before, so we’re essentially starting from scratch here.”

Dorian gave a comforting smile, “That’s perfectly alright. Perhaps a blank slate is best.”

The mage pulled his chair up, resting his elbows on the desk. “Now, you don’t want to come off too strong too soon. So let’s start very basic: what is something almost anyone would like to receive?”

Cullen looked down at his hands, clasped and nervously twiddling. After a moment of thinking he replied tentatively, “Praise?”

Dorian chuckled, “Yes, that’s true, but let’s think most simply. Something superficial, to start. Something physical…?” he guided.

Cullen’s eyes bounced around Dorian’s features for clues. “Gifts?”

Dorian nodded encouragingly, making a rolling motion with his hand to encourage something specific.

“Such as…flowers?” Cullen said it like a question.

“Perfect!” Dorian Tossed his hands up. “Now the next step is easy, what flowers do they like?”

Cullen sighed, rubbing at his scruff, “No idea. And I’m not sure I have the nerve to ask them.”

“Well you wouldn’t want to do that anyway, you want to bring it up casually. Otherwise, they might catch on to what you’re planning.”

Cullen was still looking away, distracted with his own anxiety. Dorian offered a gentle smile and a friendly suggestion. “Why not get a bouquet? A little mix of everything? That way there’s bound to be something they like in there. After all, it’s the thought, not the gift, that matters here.”

Cullen nodded continuously, deep in thought of what to get for his muse. “Yes…a little of everything. That’s…that’s an excellent idea! I’ll go to Orlais, to a florist, pick out the most exotic things they have, the most colorful, most pungent. It’s perfect!”

Dorian couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his lips at Cullen’s excitement.

“Thank you, Dorian. You’ve no idea how much this helps me.”

“Glad to be of service, my friend.” Dorian rose from his seat, gave a friendly bow, and left Cullen to his plans.

__________

As Dorian sat in his little alcove, reading over a new study, the sound of quick and precise footsteps drew closer. Soon, the Inquisitor, ever nimble on her feet, ran into his nook, a massive smile on her face.

“Have you been out today?”

Dorian glanced over the edge of his book. “Not yet, no.”

She bounced on her toes, “So you haven’t seen the garden?”

The mage raised a brow, closing his book with one hand. “Should I?”

The rouge practically squealed as she gestured for Dorian to follow her.

They were in the main hall in no time, Vivienne calling down from her balcony, “It's simply exquisite, darling! Who knew our Commander had such taste?” Varric shrugging as if to say Not me.

Once outside, Dorian had to push through a wall of onlookers, all gawking at the sight before them. The Inquisitor slipped through almost effortlessly, turning to check for Dorian every few seconds.

Finally, they broke through the crowd and Dorian’s jaw nearly dropped. There were flowers everywhere; no patch of dirt in sight. Flowering ivy spiraled up and around the pillars and railings, columns tangled in vines. Each plain tree had been replaced with a flowering fruit tree; one apple, one cherry, one pear, and one orange.

The Inquisitor squeezed his hand to bring him back, saying in a sigh, “Isn’t it beautiful? Like a magic forest!”

Before he could turn to acknowledge her, the red head was already frolicking like a school girl, skipping and bounding through the garden, hoping to find every flower she could. Dorian watched her with a smile, shaking his head at how adorable she could be.

A sudden realization washed over him as he watched the young woman stand on her toes to reach an apple: she must be Cullen’s secret muse. Watching her enjoy every last bit of the garden, even the new insects that had been attracted by the plants, cemented this truth in his mind. Cullen was head over heels for Lyann Trevelyan.

After spending time with his friend amongst the flowers, admiring every scent, Dorian slipped away to consult Cullen on his next move. As he poked his head into the Commander's office, he saw Cullen excitedly pacing, grinning to himself.

“Do you know what a bouquet is, my friend? Perhaps something was lost in translation last we spoke.” Dorian teased, grabbing Cullen’s attention.

Cullen’s head shot up and he smiled widely, rushing over to Dorian to get his reaction. “Well? What do you think?”

Dorian chuckled at Cullen’ childlike glee. “I think you did an excellent job. Maybe a bit over the top, but I can certainly say it made an impression.”

Cullen nearly melted, “Oh, Dorian, I am so glad to hear it. Your advice was invaluable!”

Dorian grinned as he said lowly, “The Inquisitor especially liked it, might I add.”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he blushed, straightening his back, “O-oh! Well, I suppose I should have run it past her first, but it’s a bit embarrassing to tell her my intentions. Josephine was good about keeping it confidential.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing to the floor.

Dorian gave a hardy chuckle, “Oh I understand. Now, what did you have planned for the next step?”

Cullen froze. “Next…step? How many steps are there?”

Shaking his head, Dorian grabbed the blond by the shoulders and lead him to his desk.

“May I?” Dorian snatched a quill and paper.

“Step one: a sweet but generic gift to show your interest. Something to casually say ‘I might like you'. You already did that one. Following?”

Cullen nodded, leaning his elbows on the desk as he watched Dorian write.

“Alright. Step two: a more personal gift. Something you know they like. This shows them not only are you interested in them, but you’re interested in their interests as well.”

“Right…” Cullen chewed his lip.

“What is it?” Dorian sighed.

“I don’t know much about their likes. They aren’t very…direct. Ever.”

Well that doesn’t sound like Lyann… Dorian thought to himself.

Dorian had to restrain from rolling his eyes. “Well, in that case, an easy thing to get for someone indecisive is sweets. Candy, chocolate, biscuits, pastries. Things like that. Just get them sweets that remind you of them.”

Cullen looked utterly concerned. “Am I supposed to…guess what they…taste like?”

Dorian stared at him with a blank look, completely astounded. “No. What does that even—no, never mind, please don’t attempt to explain.”

After drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment, Dorian tried to be more clear—though he thought he had been plenty clear before. “Think of how they act, yes? Are they kind and sweet? Flowery and fun? Warm like spice?”

Cullen nodded along, seemly understanding this time.

Dorian smiled, placing a tender hand on the blonds arm. “I’ll leave you to it then."

__________

Several days later and not a word from Cullen, Dorian felt a bit anxious. Had he not been clear enough still? Did Cullen get too nervous to continue? Oh no, did he have a falling out with Lyann; she didn’t return his feelings?

Just as he began to lose himself in his nerves, despite having research to focus on, Dorian caught a subtle whiff of something delicious. It was warm and baked, but chocolatey and rich, and somehow tart all at once. Cullen must have asked the cooks to do their damnedest.

After a while the scent became too much, it was too intriguing, Dorian had to go to the kitchens and see for himself what was being baked. As he descended the stairs to Solas's area, the elf came from the main hall with a plate of goodies. Tarts and cookies and all sorts, laid out decoratively on a porcelain dish.

“My my,” Dorian quirked a brow, “Someone has a sweet tooth it seems.”

Solas didn’t look at him as he replied, “There is a spred out there. I would be a fool to turn down free food. Especially Orlaisian pastries.” He popped a fruit tart into his mouth.

Dorian exited to the main hall and was greeted by long dining tables over flowing with every dessert imaginable. Full cakes, cup cakes, full pies, hand pies, everything he loved and things he hadn’t tried before, but was more than eager to.

Everyone in Skyhold, and a few visiting nobles, huddled around the tables making sure to heap their plates, and at the front of the room, with a towering plate nearly spilling down her shirt, was the ever graceful Inquisitor, shoving candied dates into her gob.

“Well aren’t you looking marvelous today,” Dorian laughed as he approached.

“Hm? Oh, Dorun!” Lyann mumbled through half chewed food.

She took a second to chew and swallow before nearly shouting, “Isn’t this amazing?! Cullen and Josephine planned this in only a few days! I don’t know how they got it all here and kept it so fresh! It taste like it just came from the ovens, or maybe the Maker's own kitchen.” She swooned as she crammed another treat into her mouth.

Dorian chuckled, picking up a plate to load up himself. “Cullen planned this, did he? Any idea why?” He feigned curiosity.

“No idea,” Lyann shrugged, nearly dropping a pudding, “He usually doesn’t care about impressing nobles, so I don’t know who he’s trying to impress. Maybe he just felt like the troops deserved it!”

“Oh, I’d bet he’s trying to catch someone’s attention...” Dorian hinted, but the Inquisitor was already going in for seconds. Well, more like fourths.

Dorian shook his head with a smile as she walked off to her chambers with a mountain of sweets. Just as he began picking out his favorite treats, a soft voice spoke up behind him.

“Have you tried the jam biscuits yet? They’re heavenly. I might actually die if someone doesn’t stop me.”

Dorian turned around just in time to see Cullen with a jam cookie half way to his lips. Just as it was about to touch his tongue, Dorian snatched it away, downing it in one bite.

Cullen looked at him in shock, mouth still open to receive the sweet. They laughed together as Dorian tried to chew the mouthful.

“So? What do you think? Did I hit all the right flavors?”

Dorian chuckled, “If everything under the sun reminds you of them, then yes.”

Cullen sighed dreamily, “Everything…”

Dorian had only seen that look a handful of times, but by the Maker, it was his favorite expression on the blond. That look of complete adoration, losing himself to a daydream. It looked beautiful. He looked beautiful…

Dorian shook his head, reminding himself he was helping the man court someone else. The Inquisitor, of all people. But they seemed like a good match, both very…Ferelden.

When he looked back, Cullen was staring at him with bright eyes, an innocent smirk lopsided on his lips. Dorian smiled back.

“Is everything alright?” Cullen asked so gently.

Dorian swallowed hard before clearing his throat, “Yes, of course. Just thinking about your next step.”

“What’s that?”

Dorian led Cullen to a less crowded area of the hall. “Well, everything you’ve done so far has been very…grand. You may want to think about doing something one-on-one with them, personally.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck. “Right, one-on-one…If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been trying to take an indirect approach.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “But how are they ever supposed to know it’s you?”

“Well, I thought it would be rather obvious.” Cullen gave him a very confused stare.

“Listen,” Dorian sighed and shifted his weight, “they know it’s you, but you have to show that it’s for them.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up, “Oh! Oh, of course, I should have—I’m sorry Dorian I didn’t understand—”

“That’s alright, I just hope you’ve planned for something one-on-one, because I can’t help you with this next bit.”

“What?” Cullen’s eyes seems almost terrified, losing his only advisor.

Dorian wraps his fingers around the back of Cullen’s neck, pulling him closer so he could hear the whisper, “You must make this personal. I’m always willing to help, but I can’t tell you everything they like and how to fit it all together. That’s up to you, my friend.”

Cullen sighed and let his head fall forward, forehead almost leaning against Dorian’s. “Alright. I’ll try to do you proud.”

The mage smiled reassuringly, “You will, Cullen. Don’t worry.”

__________

After nearly a week without any word, Dorian received a surprise visit just as noon struck.

“Glad to see you haven’t given up. I was starting to wonder if you had gotten cold feet.” Dorian teased, slapping Cullen’s arm playfully.

Cullen grinned wide and chuckled, “Well, I’m not actually here for advice this time. I was wondering if you might come with me. I think I’ve found the perfect place for a date!”

“Oh?” Dorian was shocked by the confidence in the Commander’s voice. “What are we waiting for then? Need I pack a bag?”

“No, it’s not too far.” Cullen eyed him up and down, considering his outfit. “Though I might wear something more casual, were I you.”

Dorian looked down at his attire, about to ask why, when Cullen called back to him, already on his way, “I’ll meet you at the gates in an hour. Don’t be late.”

So he dressed down and packed a bottle of wine to sip at on the ride there. Where ever “there” was; Cullen was being awfully secretive about their destination, only repeating that it was the perfect spot for a date.

Just as the two had run out of things to banter about on the ride, Cullen stopped his horse by a gap in some trees.

“Through here. We’ll have to tie up the horses, I don’t think they’ll make it through the foliage.”

Dorian sighed an exasperate sigh, “Are we in for much of a hike? You know I get more exercise than I truly want while adventuring with the Inquisitor.”

Cullen chuckled and held some leaves out of the way for Dorian to duck under. After a short walk, Cullen looked back and smiled, “I think it’s beautiful out here. Tell me what you think.”

Dorian stepped forward through the last bit of trees to be greeted by the most sparkling, clearest, gentlest lake he’d ever laid eyes on. The water rippled steadily with the slight breeze, waves barely formed yet still enough to rock the lily pads and fallen leaves. The sun was just visible through the trees, but not enough to blind them, slowly lowering in the sky, ready shine orange and pink light across the water when dusk came.

“I…” Dorian couldn’t find his words, “Cullen, this is gorgeous…”

He looked back to Cullen who leaned confidently against a tree, pleased with the mage's reaction.

But as he turned back, Dorian remembered who all this was for, and it put a heaviness in his heart. His eyes dropped as he said “She’ll love this, Cullen. I know she will.”

Long moments went by with no response before Dorian felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

“Who?” Cullen asked softly, seeing Dorian was upset.

“Lyann, silly. She’ll find this all so lovely, I’m sure.” He had a hard time keeping eye contact with the Commander, curious eyes meaning no ill intent.

“Lyann?” Cullen pulled back slightly. “Why would I bring her—”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he muttered, “oh no…”

He stepped away to pace, continuing his “no”s under gus breath, thinking of something to say or do to make it right.

“Cullen? I don’t understand, what’s wrong?” Dorian followed his pacing, trying to grab his arm.

“I’ve screwed this up royally, that what’s wrong! Lyann?! You thought this was all for the Inquisitor?”

Dorian stopped in his tracks. “Yes? I saw how much she enjoyed everything you did, so I assumed…”

It struck him like a charging druffalo. “No.” He whispered. “For…for me?”

Cullen looked over his shoulder sheepishly, waiting for a better idea of Dorian’s reaction.

“All of it?” Dorian’s words were hardly voiced, sliding out along a whisper of disbelief.

Cullen turned around fully and began taking cautious steps toward Dorian, trying to gage if his surprise was good or bad.

As Dorian continued to stare forward, slack jawed, Cullen placed a warm hand on his neck, the other finding the mage’s chin and tilting his gaze up to lock eyes.

“Everything. Every flower, every tart, everything. I wanted to give you the world, but I didn’t know how to start. I wanted you to see I would do anything for you, Dorian. You want flower, I’ll plant you a garden. You want sweets, I’ll bring the world’s best bakers to you.”

Dorian’s eyes only showed more confusion. Cullen leaned forward, stopping just before their lips touched to whisper, “I love you.”

“You—” But the words were stolen from his lips as Cullen pulled him in, chest to chest, arms around his waist, surprisingly deft lips making him melt into the blond.

He lost track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes, maybe an hour, before they pulled away, each out of breath and shaking from a single shared shiver down their spines.

“That was…electrifying.” Cullen sighed, hugging the mage close.

Dorian could hardly think straight, just hugging Cullen back as he gathered his thoughts.

After a moment of silence, Dorian finally relaxed against Cullen and said, “I…didn’t think I could be so dense.”

They laughed together, Cullen pulling back to plant a gentle kiss to the mage’s nose.

“But in my defense,” Dorian began, returning to his regular self, “who asks the person they plan on courting for advice on how to court them?”

“Well, you liked everything, didn’t you?” Cullen teased back.

Dorian shook his head, still feeling like this couldn’t be real. But those eyes, those golden eyes…

“I…feel strongly about you, Cullen. I’d dare say I’m smitten.”

Cullen smiled even wider before placing a quick kiss to Dorian lips, stripping off his shoes and tunic with impressive speed, and jumping like a cannonball into the lake. Dorian put his hands up to shield his face from the splash, but his casual clothes soaked up the water on contact.

“Looks like you’ll have to let those clothes dry. What should we do in the meantime?” Cullen called over smugly.

“You little southern…” Dorian shook his head before stripping down and diving in himself, making sure to get Cullen in the face.

They laughed together as they splashed the other back and forth, stopping only to share a passionate kiss.

#da #dai #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #cullrian #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

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kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

The End

‘The final episode has aired. The movie has been filmed. They’re done. And Yakko has never been more terrified.

(Or, the author thinks about the implications of the word “reanimated”, the use of a grave in the new intro as a place for the Warners to pop out of, the fact that the Warners had 0 clue about the last 22 years, and the abrupt nature of the 1993 show’s finale)

@asilcorner the ending got me shook

Quick note, uh, I don’t usually put trigger warnings, but this a pretty distressing fic, I think moreso than my usual? So like....buckle up.

They’re running as the slideshow rolls, as the other characters disappear one by one. The studio isn’t expecting the side characters to come back, so they can go on with their lives, however boring they are without filming, but them? The Warners are, evidently, too chaotic and unpredictable to be allowed to stick around. And since keeping them locked up in the water tower didn’t really work, and the idea of a reboot or even a continuation seems slim to none, they’re being....

What did the executives say? Oh, right. Put down.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Yakko yells behind him. He has longer legs, so he can run faster, and his siblings are lagging. He can hear the guards coming closer-it’s been outsourced, it’s not Ralph or Dr.Scratchansniff or Hello Nurse, it’s large men in scary outfits and nets and tasers and batons-and so he slows down, grabs his siblings by the scruffs of their necks, and keeps running.

“They’re gonna kill us!” Dot all but shrieks, and he can feel her terror, and he’s just as scared. He doesn’t know how this whole suspended animation thing goes, but it sounds a lot like death and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Not on my watch,” he replies, hoping he sounds braver and more sure than he is.

Wakko tosses a few sticks of dynamite over his shoulder to slow their chasers down, and they weave through the studio towards the exit and out into the city. If they lay low for a few days, they can sneak back into their tower and hole up there for as long as they need. They’ve gotten used to it. It’s home. They can stay. It’ll be fine.

Wakko whimpers, quietly. He’s curled up as tight as he can, knees hidden in his sweater as Yakko holds him close. Dot is much the same. Her flower has lost its petals in the mad dash to escape, but she doesn’t bother to complain.

Yakko can hardly breathe, he’s been running so fast, but adrenaline keeps him going. He can’t let them get his siblings, he can’t let his siblings get taken, get hurt. He’s their big brother.

“It’s gonna be okay,” He gasps out between breaths, between strides. “We got ‘em beat. They’ve never messed with the Warners before, they can’t handle us,” The world can’t, that’s why they’re being thrown away, permanently.

“Uh, I don’t think the dynamite worked,” Wakko pipes up, and Yakko hazards a look behind him and nearly trips in terror. They’re so close!

“Try some more! I can’t reach into my hammerspace right now!” Wakko throws road tacks, the ones that stop cars, and he throws oil and a match, and grease, but the apparent task force hired just gets through obstacle after obstacle as if it were nothing.

Yakko gives them the what for, ducking around a corner at the last second to look like he was going towards another corner, and he doesn’t even allow himself to breathe, so quiet it’s chilling, but he hears a shuffle from the side away from the street they were running on.

“Gotcha,” He hears, and Dot screams, and they’re somehow in the alleyway, and he runs across the street with utter abandon, too scared to think, and suddenly they’re at a dead end.

“Shoot-uh-I-,” He can see the men running across the street after them, and so he jumps, aiming for the rooftop.

He gets yanked down by his tail, and lets out a cry of pain, kicking the hand off of him as all three of them tumble to the asphalt and he loses purchase of his sibs. He scrambles to his feet, pushing Wakko and Dot behind him and facing the monsters that have been hired to hurt his family with a growl. His tail aches.

Yakko isn’t a fighter, not by a mile. He isn’t that strong, isn’t that talented, in that regard. He has his words, but that isn’t useful right now.

He pulls out a mallet, the largest one he can muster, and holds it up high.

“Stay back,” he can feel Dot and Wakko trembling, they’re clinging to his legs. The men are wreathed in shadows so he can’t see their faces, and it adds to the mounting fear and helplessness. “Or-Or I’ll use this!”

They come closer. Yakko’s hands shake.

“I’m warning you!” He shouts, stronger than he feels. “Not one more step!”

They come closer. He swings.

An a cuff clicks around his wrist, and the mallet vanishes.

“What-,” and he’s yanked forward, held back as they close in on Wakko and Dot. “No! Let go!” He kicks and writhes, but he can’t get anything to appear. The cuff on his wrist hums a noxious green, and he stares at it for a second before continuing to struggle.

“Toon power cancelling cuffs,” The apparent leader says, from behind him. “We don’t use em too often because they don’t work for forever, since you can’t really stop a toon from being a toon for too long, but they’ll work long enough for this job.”

“NO!” Yakko screams. Wakko is swinging a bat around, pushing Dot behind him despite her protests. She pulls out a weapon too, her mace, and holds it in trembling hands.

“Don’t take them-just take me! I’ll go quiet, they can hide out in the water tower! They’ll be good, please, no one will know! You can say you lost them, you can-please-don’t!” He’s begging. He can’t let this happen to them. It doesn’t matter if it’s him, they’re what matters. He needs them to be safe.

“Yakko, shut up!” Dot shouts back, and she sounds furious. Her glare softens with fear as she glances between the many adults looming over them.

They’re outnumbered. Their eldest has been caught. Wakko keeps swinging.

The men trip grab the bat in one hand and yank Wakko forward, and he stumbles and falls. They pick him up by his ears and slap a cuff on him, and while Wakko continues to kick and squirm but not being able to access your toon powers is draining. Yakko is tired, but he refuses to quit now.

“Dot, run!” He shouts, but she looks like a deer in the headlights, frozen and surrounded. She swings the mace and lets go, jumping up as the men stumble back from it, but halfway up they hit her with something. A rubber bullet? For a moment, he thinks she was actually shot, but there’s no blood even when she screams and drops to the ground.

“Stop!” Yakko and Wakko shout, but they cuff her before she even has a chance to get up, and they throw her over their shoulder.

“We got them,” Someone says into a walkie talkie. Yakko kicks them where it hurts, and scrambles to grab his sibs again, biting and scratching. “Permission to terminate?”

Something in Yakko snaps, and suddenly he can’t think. The thoughts and world have gone into slow motion, images like flashes that he doesn’t have the time to decipher. He’s moving fast, but it feels so slow.

He doesn’t hear the answer. He’s running towards blue and red, and pink, and there’s a hand on his shoulder and he’s screaming their names and they’re all crying and there’s a pinch on his neck as something pierces through skin and then-

Nothing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up with a scream on his lips and is enveloped into a hug before he’s fully conscious.

“It’s okay, I’m so sorry, it’s okay,” He knows that voice. Clarity is slow coming, but Yakko can sparse that out.

“Spielberg?” he manages. His mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton balls, and his vision comes into focus on a much older Steven Spielberg.

“Yakko, I’m sorry,” he says. “I wanted them to keep you in the tower, but they were resolute. The best I could get was suspended animation,” He gestures to the room they’re in, and Yakko sees two toon sized tubes filled with some kind of liquid, with his siblings in them. They look different. Remodeled. He looks down at himself. The art style has changed. They’ve changed. How?

“What...?” He can’t find the words. Not yet. They’re coming back to him slowly.

“It’s death...but not quite. I was hoping for a reboot. You guys are getting your show back!” he smiles at Yakko, like he expects Yakko to be overjoyed, but Yakko just stares.

Suspended Animation. Death, but not quite.

He let his siblings get this.

“I’m telling you, because I figured these two would take it better from you than me,” Spielberg points a thumb at Wakko and Dot. “I’ll wake them up now for your reunion.”

And Yakko wants to cry. He wants to rage. He wants to tell Steven, the execs, everyone, to stick it where the sun don’t shine Like Hell is he doing their stupid reboot, he hates them.

He doesn’t hate often, but he’s certain here.

“Will they remember...?” Will they remember dying like I do, he doesn’t say. Spielberg shrugs.

“Don’t know.”

They will. Wakko is going to cry and Dot won’t be able to sleep for a week, and Yakko will hold them close and apologize a million times, and he’ll have to stop them from tearing the studio apart because he knows it’ll bring them right back here.

They’ll remember.

But he doesn’t know that yet, so instead he says.

“So, how’s the reboot working?” As Spielberg turns on the machine to let Wakko and Dot out, and he pretends to listen as the director replies.

#animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #dot warner #wakko warner #listen if I have to think it you have to know it #suffer #kitkat1003

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mashiraostail · 4 years ago

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Hi! Can I please get, Hizashi, Aizawa, Midnight and Toshinori comforting an S/O who had a really REALLY bad day? Maybe S/O comes home the door closes and they just start sobbing? How would our babes comfort them (Gender Neutral S/O please!!)

yeah!! I hope ur day wasn’t bad when u sent this omg hopefully this is helpful! ): under the cut!

Hizashi- You were just exhausted, it was one stupid mishap after another, and you were so miserable it made you physically sore. All you wanted to do was go home and go to sleep, you knew you should shower, clean up a little, you assumed like you looked as awful as you felt. But you couldn’t, it was so much all at once and all you could think about was letting it fester in bed alone in the dark where nothing could annoy or bother you for the foreseeable future. Though you forgot about one variable, and are reminded of it the moment you open your front door. Hizashi. He’s just lounging around the living room, it was probably a rather quiet Thursday night to everyone but you and he seemed to be enjoying the tranquility. He was sitting on the floor by the table, he had a little keyboard synth resting in his lap, and headphones haphazardly over his ears. He looked content and comfortable and so very in his element that you realized you’d been so upset all day that you’d forgotten about him. Now all you wanted to do was lay in the dark with him. Listen to his voice, let him comfort you, be close to him. If anyone could make you feel better it was him. Honestly, you don’t know why you start crying. But you feel the tears welling up the minute he looks up at you. “Hey hot-...stuff.” He’s standing up and bridging the space between you the second he realizes you’re crying. Of course he’d call you some stupid silly nickname, of course he’d just be normal Hizashi, of course he would. “Babe, what’s up?” He’s standing nervously in front of you, jittery to the point of hilarity, he clearly wanted to touch you but didn’t want to upset you more, you could tell in his face that he didn’t know if it was him you were upset with, or something else entirely. You rub at your eyes, trying and failing to ebb the flow of tears down your cheeks and when you finally look at him you actually feel sort of guilty at how upset he looks on your behalf, like his whole heart just broke. “Zashi, please, can I just have a hug?” The pride that had been dwindling at his uncertainty of the cause of your tears seemed to instantly swell back up again. “Yeah! Yes! Come on! Get in here babe!” He pulls you in tight, pressing your wet face into his neck. The way you hold onto him, the tightness, the hand in the back of his hair, all of it makes him wobble with affection. But for you, it just made the dam crack. You felt safe, and warm, and surrounded by him, and that comfort turned what was previously a few exhausted tears turned into full-body wracking sobs. “Jeeze baby did you miss me that much?” He’s squeezing you, tight, pressing scattered kisses to the side of your head, face, temple and ear, whatever he can reach, the arms around his neck, your hair, it didn’t matter as long as it was kissable and to him all of you was kissable. He can feel the big blobs of salty tears against his neck and shirt collar, he can feel them smear against him as you nod, wet exhausted laughter slipping out of you. “I did.” “You’ll blow up my ego babe.” He warns you as he presses his nose into your hair, “I hope you didn’t really miss me so much that it made you this upset...I’m always a phone call away babe.” He pulls you out of the crook of his neck and wipes off your face with his palm, “you looked like a kicked puppy.” His eyebrows twitch up desperately, “please babe you’re breaking my heart here. What’s wrong?” You shake your head, “I’ve just had the most...awful day. I was so miserable, and it was just one thing after another, I couldn’t catch a break, even on my break something went wrong somehow.” He’s nodding along with you, ever intent. “All I could think about all day was coming home and just going to bed. I’d been so worthless all day that I didn’t even think about how nice it would be to see you, and when I finally did and you were just sitting there and you looked so comfortable and I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be close to you and all at once it was like I went from wanting to lock myself up alone in bed to I just wanted to be near you.” You shake your head again, harder this time, “and then when you hugged me it was just so...I was so relieved. I’ve wanted to cry like this all day but I didn’t feel like I could and now-” “You’re gonna make me cry please-” He’s squeezing your face, “you’re so sweet. You look exhausted.” He’s pulling your face up to his peppering a few kisses to your lips. You just sigh, relieved, it felt good. “What do you want me to do?” He holds your arms, “more hugs? Kisses? We could watch a movie?” His hand goes back up to your face, wiping away the tears again, “you shouldn’t cry so much you’ll get sick, and your eyes will be all puffy and sore tomorrow.” He’s squeezing your face again, “you look cute when you cry though. Like a sweet little baby-” “Shut up.” You snort, shoving his chest. He looks so relieved to have just made you laugh a little. “Can you just go back to what you were doing?” You ask, hands landing on his chest. “It wasn’t anything very interesting.” He insists, “we can shower and call it an early night if you want-” “No it’s okay, I just wanna sit with you.” He looks like he’s gonna explode. “Of course..” He starts taking off your clothes though. “Zashi I-” “I know, I know.” He shushes you and keeps going until you’re standing in the middle of the living room in your underwear. “Was that fun for you?” You cross your arms to cover yourself up. Though it doesn’t last long since he shucks his own teeshirt off and pulls it over your head, “isn’t this better? Come on let's go sit down.” You spend about an hour sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his abdomen, cheek resting against his back as he tinkered with the synth before him. When you ask to go to bed he doesn’t protest, he just says of course, you go ahead he’ll be there in a minute.

Aizawa- Nothing else could go wrong, honestly, the last thing that could get fucked up would just be you dropping dead right there. You were supposed to be home hours ago and you were sure your trashed phone had more than a few missed calls and texts from Shouta who’d probably waited up for you. The thought of seeing him now felt like the best thing in the world. He’d listen to you talk about your shitty day for hours and just agree with you he’d just hum and nod when you said you felt like the only person walking around with a brain sometimes. What you didn’t expect though is to feel so thoroughly relieved the moment you stepped foot inside, and finally caught sight of the man. It was like a thousand pound weight just dropped off your shoulders, like for the first time all day your lungs could expand and take in a good full breath. There was a pile of papers beside Shouta, and he was looking over them with minimal interest, long hair pulled away from his neck, a pencil sticking out of it, holding the dark mass in place miraculously. Even the way he sat was inviting to you, like every time he shifted or moved it just an invitation for you to curl up and get close. “Hey, welcome back.” He pulls the back of the pen away from his lips as he looks up at you, “You’re really late today is everything-” When he gets a good look at you though he doesn’t feel the need to finish his question. “Yeah. I’m sorry I’m late.” You don’t know why you’re biting back tears, he wouldn’t care if you cried, he’s seen it before. “It’s okay.” He waves you over and moves the pile of papers out of the way. “You look like you were really busy.” He could see the tears welling up in your eyes, he knew the helpful thing right now would probably be to get the dam to break, you look like you really needed to cry. “You’ve got a twig in your hair.” He reaches over and pulls it out. “Thanks-” Your voice breaks and you take deep shaky breath. He can tell he’s just about there. He can practically see your foundation creaking. “You... don’t look like you feel very good.” He squeezes your shoulders, “talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.” Yeah, that does it. There you go. Crying like a baby. He’s kind of proud of himself and how quickly he gets you to let down that wall. You practically tackle him but he accepts it, he sees it coming a mile away. “Bad day?” His hand on the back of your head just makes you cry more. He honestly was expecting a little cry, the exhausted maybe a little petulant, ‘I just want today to be over’ sort of crying, but what he got instead was full-on bawling. He was sort of taken aback. “Bad day feels like an understatement.” He amends and you just nod ferociously into him, the harsh scruff on his jaw was a grounding comfort whenever it scratched your skin. “I just had a really...terrible day.” You shake your head, arms coming tighter around him, “a really really terrible day. Everything just kept going wrong and it feels like it’s all always my fault like I should have known-” “you shouldn’t blame yourself for the mistakes of other people.” He reminds you, a comforting hand between your shoulder blades, “mistakes are just mistakes anyways. There’s rarely a problem that can’t be fixed.” “I just want to be helpf-” “I know you do. And you are.” He promises, feeling your hand fist in the back of his shirt, “you don’t give yourself enough credit, I’m sure without you around today would have been a lot worse for your colleagues. You always pick up so much slack. You work so hard just to turn a blind eye to all your effort.” “I could have done more, I wasn’t even the last person to leave today I-” “I bet you were the first person there.” You’re silent to that. “I’m proud of you for working so hard, you’re going to accomplish some really great things, even if you don’t feel that way right now. But you need to give yourself more credit if you beat yourself up so much all the time you’ll stop feeling passionate about your work.” You knew he was right, he was always so level headed, he always made perfect sense, he always knew what needed to be said. “Either way though, it’s over now. The terrible day from hell can stay outside in the hall. It’s not allowed in here.” You laugh a little bit at that and the ebbing of tears is a bit of a reprieve to him. “What can I do to make you feel better?” “I already feel a little better Sho, really.” You pull away and wipe your face off, he’s looking down at you sympathetically. “You look miserable.” He leans down to your lips anyways, and it’s a nice kiss, relaxing, tender and soft, it’s the kind of kiss that makes you drowsy. “It’s pretty late already. To be honest I was worried when it started getting dark out and I still hadn’t heard from you. Why don’t we call it a night? I can grade this stuff later, it’s not like they’d be looking for it, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t notice if I never returned it.” You chuckle at that too, “I think you underestimate them sometimes.” He hums at that, “no not where it counts.” He takes your face in his hands, “how about a hot shower, some water, and a lot of sleep?” You nod at that, “that sounds good.” “You look exhausted. He picks a leaf out of your hair, “jeez, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into today?” “You don’t wanna know.” You groan and he replies to it with a breathy chuckle, “let’s just get you cleaned up, I bet just that alone will make you feel 100x better.” And he was right. It did, it felt like all the shitty things from today swirled down into the shower drain with the soap and all the dirt it’d washed away. It felt like you were getting a new start. He seems pretty proud of how quickly he’d gotten you to bounce back. He sends you off to bed and promises to be there as soon as he finishes cleaning up his stuff in the living room, but by the time he gets into bed you’re already fast asleep.

Nemuri- You had to be the only intelligent life on the planet. That’s what you were saying to yourself as you jammed your key into your front door. It was like no other being you’d crossed today even possess the capability for though and your workload practically quadrupled from it. You had no idea how you were meant to get all of this done and all you wanted to do was go home and never have to think about anyone you’d seen today again. Your inability to say no just preceded you and it felt like everyone had taken advantage like all people ever did was take advantage. It was equal parts infuriating and disheartening. You wanted to be good and helpful but people just took advantage, played dumb, and pawned all the work off to you. It was like no one on the whole planet even appreciated a single thing you did and- “Well there you are angel, I was starting to worry you got kidnapped or something.” Nemuri is grinning at you, “you’re never this late, honestly I was starting to miss you. Are you okay? It’s not normal for you to be so late-” Nemuri did, Nemuri appreciated everything you did and she always missed you when you were apart and she sent you all sorts of funny texts and voicemails when you couldn’t see each other and Nemuri would never treat you like that. The relief of that makes your heart feel ten times lighter in your chest and all you can do is cry about it. “You’re right..silly question.” She swings her legs off the couch and waves you over to her side, of course, you go wiping the tears as they stream down your face. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?” She frowns at you and you just shake your head and wave her off. “No not you... it’s..” You whine into your hands and she hums at you sympathetically, putting a hand on either of your arms. “You had a bad day then? Or something else?” “A really...really bad day.” You hiccup and let her pull you forward, she wraps her arms securely around you. “That makes me sad.” She rests her cheek in your hair, “is it salvageable?” She rubs your back, “can we fix it?” She wonders, “would talking about it help?” “it’s just so unfair, I want to be nice, I want to help but I always take on an unfair amount and everyone takes advantage of me. I’m terrible at saying no, but why can’t people be mindful of that? I’m so mindful of everyone else I don’t see why they can’t extend the courtesy to my weakness-” She hums along and nods every few words, you feel her shift against you. “You can’t help being a big softie can you?” She squeezes you, “you’re so cute. I just adore you.” That shouldn’t make you cry any harder but it does. You felt sort of stupid, childish even, you knew Nemuri didn’t see you like that, she’d had her fair share of bad days since meeting you and she’s acted similarly, but still. “Oh angel I think you just need to cry it out for a little don’t you?” You just nod into her shirt. “Okay then. I’ll stay right here while you do.” You feel her lips against your head and she leans back onto the cushions of the couch. “I could talk about something else?” She offers, “do you wanna hear about my day?” You nod again, “yeah..that might- help-” You’re hiccuping helplessly and normally she’d find it to be sort of cute, but in your current state, she found it a little distressing. Either way, she talked quietly into your hair about whatever came to mind from today, some of her students, the papers they’d handed in, one of her student’s continued inability to spell ‘democracy’. After a few minutes the tears prattled off, and all you were left with was a massive headache and a puffy red face. When you finally do pick yourself up Nemuri isn’t sure if she wants to scream, cry, kiss you, or do all three in an indiscriminate order. “You're so cute.” She takes your face in her hands, “do you feel a little better now?” Her thumbs are wiping over the wet skin, “look at you, you even look good when you’re crying. It’s like in a movie or something-” “I’m probably a ballon-” Your laugh is quiet and tired but it’s a laugh at least. “A very cute ballon.” Nemuri clicks her tongue at you. “It’s late isn’t it?” She reaches behind you and procures a bottle of water, though it seems like she’s taken a few sips from it and it’s not freshly cold. “You should drink some water, it’ll help your headache.” You do as she suggests because she was right, and now all you wanted was for the dull throbbing behind your eyes to stop. “Go get into bed.” Nemuri kisses you when you pull the bottle away from your lips and you hum into it appreciatively, “I’ll bring in some aspirin for you.” She pulls back and you nod, you didn’t have it in you to protest that it wasn’t actually that late, still hardly 11. “I’ll take extra good care of you tonight.” She assures you as she stands, she takes your wrists and pulls you up, “that way when you have to go back tomorrow you won’t feel so overwhelmed.” She squeezes your face in her hands, “there’s still a whole hour left of today, I bet I can salvage it for you.”

Toshinori- Exhausted was the understatement of the millennia. You could drop dead where you stood if you stopped thinking about staying alive, you were sure of it. You even slipped out early because you couldn’t tolerate staying any longer. You slump against the door as you close it, just being home alone was enough to make you feel a million times safer and you can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You were so focused on your shifting emotions you didn’t even notice Toshinori sitting on the couch until he spoke. “Hey.” He’s sitting up straighter at the sight of you, you’re sure you look as terrible as you feel and Toshinori was always good at picking up on your feelings. He’s standing up, crossing the room to get to you. “Toshi-” You’ve never been so happy to see someone, to have someone pull you into the chest, he encased you in his warmth, his presence wrapped around you just like his arms did. It takes a moment, the warmth and comfort of him accosted your icy emotions, but once the two touched you felt like you were melting away, It came out in your tears. “What’s wrong?” His voice is so quiet, and soft, physically soft, it hits you like a pillowcase full of feathers. “You look so upset.” The way you fist up the back of his teeshirt in your hands like you were desperate to just be closer, begging him to come as close as he could, to wrap you up and melt away all the ice, like warm spring sunshine hitting a frozen pond, you wanted him to surround you like sunlight did every time you stepped outside. And he could tell, he could feel it. “I’m right here, hey, I’m right here with you. I’m here now.” He’s holding the back of your hand with one large hand and cupping the small of your back with the other. “Whatever it is is over now. It can’t bother you anymore. I’m here. Please don’t be upset. Tell me how I can help.” “You’re perfect-” Your voice wobbles with your tears, “Toshi please-” You warble and can’t help rubbing your face into his shirt. “Please what?” His thumb rubs the base of your skull affectionately, “whatever you want. What do you need?” “Just stay-” You voice cracks and you feel him lean into you at that. “Of course I’ll stay with you...let’s sit down okay?” He pulls you away and takes your jaw in his hands, tilting your head up to see you better. “I know you’re upset, but try not to cry so hard okay? You’ll get sick..” He leans down enough to press a kiss to your forehead, “and seeing you cry so hard makes me really upset, that’s probably selfish of me to say but I can’t help it. I just wanna help you feel better.” He walks you to the couch and you’re more than happy to fall into his lap. “I just had a really bad day.” You scrub your face, “terrible, long, awful day.” One of your hands absently curls a few blonde strands around your finger and Toshinori hums at your explanation. “Well it’s over now.” He holds the base of your skull when he kisses your forehead, “it’s just me and you.” You were holding his free hands with yours and you nod. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers, murmuring it into your forehead. You shake your head, “it was just a bad day..” “Why don’t you get comfy here and go to sleep for a little?” He pulls you into closer still and you wrap your arms around him, maybe you will. Exhaustion was seeping into your vision and the kiss he leans down into doesn’t do anything to help. It makes your stomach and chest buzz warm, all you want is to get closer and then even closer, to kiss and kiss and kiss until you couldn’t open your eyes in between them and you dozed off into a comfortable sleep against him. He was happy to oblige you.

#hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #present mic #hizashi yamada #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraser head x reader #eraser head #nemuri kayama x reader #nemuri kayama #midnight x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #yagi toshinori #all might x reader #All Might #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha request #gender neutral reader

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forevercaroline · 4 years ago

Text

French court

I was going to have these characters be a side plot in the fic Forbes but as I was writing I decided to make a whole new story with these characters. Also I was talking with @iamcarito and she mentioned that Lexi would be like Megan Markle and the ideas just started flowing from there. I wrote this yesterday. I had mentioned to @austennerdita2533 and @karinanic that I was going to have a Lexi and prince romance. Also tagging @delenastvd.

Xxx

Henri peppers Lexi neck with kisses as her arms go around his neck and she rides him. The white sheet falling off her pooling on his thighs. He thrusts up one last time and her screams of ecstasy full the big bedroom, he soon follows. She slumps down on his bare chest and leaves a sweet peck on his neck.

“It’s moving day. My prince.”

“Did you ever think you would be here?”

Lexi snuggles her head into his neck and he wraps his arms around her slim waist. “Here meaning naked in bed with the prince of France no, moving into the French palace no, or being engaged to the sexy prince of France no.”

“Engaged to the sexy prince, did I only become sexy after we got engaged.” Lexi can feel him laugh laying on him.

“Sexy the moment I saw you.” She leans up and leaves a kiss on his lips he smiles into the kiss.

The double doors for their suite open and it’s Henri’ mother the queen mother Catherine de’ Medici who like her son has blonde hair that she usually pins up. “Oh good your up and decent this morning.”

The blonde lovebirds share a look this a frequent occurrence. A few times they have been in the middle of sex when she barges in. The doors do not have a lock but guards posted outside the door but the queen mother is allowed in any room and especially her children’s quarter’s being their mother. Doesn’t matter how old or if one son is the king she will barge into their quarters morning day or night.

“What do you want mother?” As Henri has one arm on Lexi hiding her nudity behind him and pulling the blankets up to cover them.

“Charles found out about your engagement and is not pleased. He demands to see you in the throne room.”

Lexi bites her lip she has never been in the throne room, There are a lot of rooms in this palace she has not been in. Mostly she just stays in Henri’s suite, she has walked through the great hall, the ball room, and seen Henri’s older sister Claude’s room but that was only because her and Claude were going out together and Claude did not like her outfit so she dragged Lexi to her room and throw a short black dress at her and told her to change while she looked for a pair of heels.

Before Catherine leaves she tells her blanket covered naked son. “Henri please do not irritate your brother.”

Henri cracks a little smile and glances down at equally naked Lexi. “I Promise mother.”

Xxx

Before they enter the throne room Henri holds out his hand and smiles down at Lexi assuringly she smiles up at him while she places her purple tipped nails in his outstretched hand his thumb runs over her princess cut engagement ring there are three rows on each side all diamonds the two outer rows are white diamond and the middle row is yellow diamonds. Leading up the big raised yellow diamond in the middle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They enter to find Charles having a meeting with his spies and generals. Out of the corner of his eye he spots them. “Everyone out I need to have a word with my brother. If you see Nicole send her in too.”

Charles is shorter then his brother Henri but not by much. Where as Henri is tall blonde and has scruff and looks sexy, Charles is shorter, shaggy brunette hair and is clean shaven. Henri has a more gentle looking face he is fun loving where as Charles has a little bit of an evil face meaning that if something goes wrong people look to see if Charles did it because his face does not look innocent, he is a good king it’s just his face makes Lexi uncomfortable. Although that might have been done by their one and only encounter a year ago. The big difference between Henri and Charles is the crown upon Charles head.

“I am told you proposed to this woman last night.” He gestures to Lexi who scoffs at him.

Henri squeezes her hand to give her strength and to silently tell her he has this.“Yes I proposed to Lexi last night and she accepted we are going to move her into my suite later today.”

He doesn’t even look up from the map on the table to tell them. “I did not approve a proposal there for you two are not engaged nor did I approve of her moving into the palace.”

Lexi mouth drops open she is speechless this is not happening.

“Charles, Lexi and I love each other and want to get married.”

“You want to marry a commoner?”

Henri rolls his eyes the promise he made to his mother running through his head. He takes a breath and Lexi squeezes his hand to give him the strength he gave her earlier in this conversation. “Yes. I do not care if Lexi’s parents own a boutique in Paris or she is a heiress. We’ve been together for a year and a half but we knew the moment we saw each other that we had been looking for each other and we finally found each other.”

Charles looks up at the blonde couple and a small smile spreads across his face and he sticks his hand out. “Nicole.”

“My love.” Nicole is Charles fiancé, she has long brunette hair and brown eyes in heels she is the same height as Charles.

Nicole looks at the blonde couple first at Henri with love in her eyes then at Lexi with daggers in her eyes. Charles looks back at the blonde couple. “Your dismissed.”

Both blondes are pissed they were engaged this morning and just because Charles the king didn’t give his approval they not only can not get engaged but she can not move in with Henri. They get to the doorway when Henri turns around a wicked smirk on his face. “Brother why not this afternoon we play a game of tennis.”

Charles looks at his brother even though there is space between them they are looking each other dead in the eye. “What game are you playing brother?”

“ You’ll just have to accept and see.”

The older of the two looks back at the table full of maps and papers then at his blonde taller brother. “I accept.”

Xxx

“I love you Henri and I want to marry you but I do not see this ending well.”

Henri lifts the passengers side of his black Bugatti eb 110 he leans in and tells her. “Trust me.” He leaves a kiss right below her ear.

Once he is in the drivers seat she looks over at him as he puts the luxury sports car into drive. “I trust you.”

With one hand on the steering wheel he entwines his other hand with one of hers and kisses the back of her hand. “We will be married even if we have to disobey the king of France.”

Lexi loves Henri not just with her whole heart but she feels it in her bones this is the man for her. The way his smile can not only make her smile but make her feel like everything is going to be ok. From their first meeting they have had this connection. Henri was walking down the streets in Paris and walked past her mothers boutique and saw Lexi in the window fixing a mannequin. He was totally enamored by her beauty he almost walked into a guy walking towards him. Henri came into the boutique to find out what her name was and that night they had their first date and they’ve have been together ever since.

They pull onto the street where her apartment is and Lexi looks around. “Charles said I couldn’t move in and all my stuff would not would not fit in this car.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building. As he shuts off the car he tells her with a smirk on his face. “Well what Charles doesn’t know won’t kill him. And if it does your looking at the new king who wants to live with you.”

Lexi comes around to his side of the car and leans up and pecks him on the lips. “How did I become so lucky to fall in love with such a sexy, clever, ambitious and lovely man.”

He shrugs as he smiles down at her. “I have no clue but I fell in love with someone who is insanely beautiful, just as ambitious and clever as I am.”

“Well don’t we make a good match.”

“I think so.”

Xxx

They put all her stuff in the moving van that Henri had ready outside. They return to the palace and Henri orders the guards to discreetly put her stuff in his suite.

When they go out to the tennis court in the back of the palace they see Charles, Nicole and Claude. Lexi kisses Henri for good luck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Lexi takes a seat next to Claude, Nicole is glaring daggers at her, Lexi is ignoring her. Both brothers pick up a racket before they start Claude stands up and goes over to the net. “Shake hands.”

Claude is older then both of them so they come to the net, Claude like her brother Charles has brunette hair that she usually wears up and curly. “Any wager between you two?”

“Now that you mention it sister yes. If I win I would love to marry Lexi but I know you will not grant that so If I win I want the king to accept that Lexi is going to move in with me.”

Charles glares at his brother and Claude looks at him. “Charles?”

“If I win Henri gives up this dream of marrying Lexi and gets serious.”

Henri and Claude share a look why is Charles so against this marriage he is getting married himself and his fiancé Nicole he met in a barn one of the times he ran away from court because it was to much pressure. Plus before he became king he was a party boy in Spain. He came back to France to be taught how to be a king by their older brother Francis before his death.

“Deal.” Both brothers shake and Claude goes back to her seat. “Go.”

She leans over and tells Lexi “Someone needs to keep the peace of this game might as well be me.”

“Aka Leith was busy and you were bored.”

Claude glances over at her and smirks “I hope Henri wins just so we could have a chance to be sisters. And I don’t say that to everyone.” She lowers her voice and leans in closer even covers the side of her mouth. “I didn’t tell Nicole we could be sisters and they are getting married.”

Lexi leans in to Claude. “Thank you for the compliment I hope we get the chance to be sisters too and that Henri wins. Also have you been clubbing behind my back with Nicole?”

Claude lets out a little laugh “Never your the only woman in this palace that enjoys sex and clubs as much as I do.”

They turn back to the tennis match and Henri scores a point Lexi cheers and Charles side eyes her she stops. Charles scores and Nicole smiles and claps her hands. After a couple more rounds the game is tied 5-5. Henri serves the ball and Charles almost misses it but hits it in the last second, Henri nearly missed the ball but hits it.

Claude is getting bored watching them play tennis. “Ok next point wins.”

“Don’t worry Henri you’ll find another woman you never had a problem finding one.”

“How does Nicole stand you at least my fiancé loves me.”

All everyone hears is Charles’ angry yell a racket hit the ground and him charging at his brother. All three ladies jump up from their seats and run over to the brothers who are now actually fighting each other well Charles is trying to strangle Henri who is trying to hold him back.

“Charles!” It takes Nicole and Claude to get Charles off Henri. Lexi checks him out and he picks up a tennis ball and weighs it in his hand. “Henri no don’t add injury to insult, he is still the king and your brother.”

“He will never let us marry more over he wants us to break up.”

Lexi swallows and pulls her hand away from his hand with the tennis ball. She turns around so she doesn’t have to see he throws the ball and it hits Charles straight in the nose he cries out because his nose is broken.

“Henri!” Claude looks back at Henri who says “Looks like I won brother.” She then looks back at Charles who is holding his bleeding nose and shooing Nicole’s hands away from his broken nose.

Claude notices Charles getting ready to pounce on Henri again. “Lexi get Henri out of here.”

“Come on Charles we need to get your nose looked at.”

As Charles passes Henri if looks could kill Henri would be dead ten times over.

Xxx

Lexi gets Henri back to their suite she closes the door and leans against it while he sits in on the chaise in front of the fire place there are boxes of her stuff all over the big bedroom. “Your mother said don’t irritate him you promised. And now you broke his nose. He is going to hate us.”

Henri puts out a hand and she walks over and places her hand in his he guides her to sit on his lap. “I know I promised but he called you a peasant and said that I’ll have no problem finding another woman.”

She lays her head on his shoulder and kisses his neck. “Dinner is going to be real fun.”

He nods as he moves his hand up her back.

Xxx

Just as Lexi predicted dinner was awkward Catherine sat at one end and Charles who had to get his nose reset so it can heal properly. Is sitting at the other end. Henri decides that the best place for him to sit is right next to Charles and across from Nicole with Lexi next to him and across from Claude and Leith.

“Henri don’t you have something you want to say to Charles.”

“Your right I do.” Lexi and Claude share a look they know this will not end well. “Charles I’m sorry, I’m sorry for breaking your nose. The soup we are eating tonight is supposed to help keep people strong. More importantly I am sorry people pity you and think your a weak king.”

Lexi rubs her forehead so close. Charles yells out in anger pins Henri on the table soup is spilt and he is choking his brother. Lexi, and Claude are trying to get Charles off Henri. Catherine stands up from her end of the table and looks at the mess her children have made. “Enough!”

#lexi branson #my writing #henri valois #Charles Valois #catherine de medici #claude valois #reign au #vampire diaries fanfiction #french court

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